Tong Yunrou took her purse from the car and looked at Duan Xiuqi, slightly surprised, "Xiuqi, what's wrong with you?"
He answered indifferently, "Nothing."
Tong Yunrou was satisfied as she looked at the bruise on Duan Xiuqi's forehead, which had seemed to heal from a few days ago when he got hit.
As the two walked towards the direction of the banquet hall, they could faintly hear the furious roar of the old Mr. Duan coming from inside.
The old Mr. Duan was nearly driven mad by these people; veins protruded from the old man's neck, and his eyes were wide with raging anger.
The old Mr. Duan pointed at Xu Xingchen, his voice trembling as he spoke, "So, so you knew that your mother hired someone to kill my grandson, yet you pretended to be unaware?"
At this moment, Xu Xingchen truly became the center of attention, with sweat beads as large as soybeans rolling down like rain, quickly soaking his suit jacket.
