He had always thought that Chi Huan was an inexperienced heiress who, even in the entertainment industry, sailed smoothly through life thanks to her father's connections, never needing to climb the ladder by herself.
He couldn't even imagine her knowing what true failure was.
Seeing Yang Hao merely staring blankly at her, motionless, Chi Huan realized that of course, actually—getting him to move from the sofa to the window was not an easy task.
She tossed her bag back onto the couch, stood up, and walked toward the coffee table. Her long, curly hair tumbled down around her waist, thick and dense. She looked down, her lips curled in a shallow smile, "Conscience? Why should it be uneasy? There are countless men who have been axed by their wives due to domestic violence, let alone a piece of trash like you, who doesn't want others to live in peace even in death?"
