Ye Wuwei's face turned pale, he stared at Gu Junzhu in shock, his eyes filled with disbelief: "You, what did you say?"
Gu Junzhu let go of his collar, took out a recorder, pressed the play button, threw it on the coffee table, and looked at him coldly, eyes full of scorn.
The recorder had Ye Xingbei's secret of birth, and Jiang Lin's monologue before his death.
The tangled resentment of the Ye Family, each incident, each case, with each narration, became clear and understandable.
The playback stopped, Ye Wuwei's face had turned completely pale.
Ye Zhitong supported his arm worriedly, anxiously asking, "Wuwei, how do you feel? Butler, quickly, call Dr. Lee!"
Ye Wuwei's chest heaved, a taste of metallic sweetness in his throat.
He struggled to move his eyes, turning to Ye Xinglan: "Beibei... is your uncle's daughter?"
How could Ye Xinglan deny it now?
His eyes reddened, and he nodded.
