Ye Xingguang's wrist was being squeezed painfully. She frowned tightly, "Are you crazy? When have I ever wished for your early death?"
"You don't even admit it. If you're not wishing me dead, why are you burning paper money here for me?"
"Who said I'm burning paper for you? I've already said that I was doing it for a friend of mine. My friend's death anniversary is tomorrow. I originally planned to burn it tomorrow night, but you're supposed to be celebrating your birthday at home, aren't you? I didn't want to upset you, so I chose to finish it a little after midnight tonight. You're just imagining things! Let go of me!"
But no matter how hard Ye Xingguang tried to pull her hand away, she couldn't escape from his strong grip.
Upon hearing her explanation, Ye Junqing's expression didn't soften at all. Instead, he questioned her sharply, "Whose death anniversary is it?"
"Why do I have to tell you!"
