Yingluo, then you can go to hell.
Murong Mian's voice was very clear. Her eyes were gentle and warm, just like the room that was maintained at a constant temperature all year round. However, her words were like cold blades that stabbed Murong Zhihong's heart, which was no longer healthy.
Murong Zhihong's mouth was wide open. His cloudy eyes were filled with shock. He stared at Murong Mian. His eyes were unfamiliar, as if he had never known her. There was panic, uneasiness, and most of all, confusion.
He was puzzled. Why had his wife and son changed so much?
Did they all want him to die?
"Who ... Who ... Who are you?" Murong Zhihong murmured. You're not ... Not ... Landy. "
Murong Mian smiled and spread her hands. She asked helplessly,"Father, who else do you think I am?"
"You're not, you're not ..."
Murong Zhihong kept repeating the word "no".
He did not understand where his obedient, sensible, and filial son had gone.
