"Stop, where do you think you're going?"
An Zhonghui's voice rose from behind; Zhou Qi turned to look at him.
"I'm going to argue with dad, how can there be such a thing? Why should all the good stuff be given to Jian Qing? That dead girl has never shown us the slightest bit of good grace from the start. Giving those things to her will only make her more smug and fearless."
An Zhonghui listened to her shrill voice with impatience, "Enough, how far do you plan to take this? Those things are dad's, and it's up to him how he wants to handle them, and who he wants to give them to. What's your hurry? Besides, if Azhe hears what you just said, are you planning to make him completely cut off the mother-son relationship with you?"
After that, he strode out, not wanting to stay there a moment longer.
"Zhonghui, you come back here, come back."
Zhou Qi clutched the handrail of the stairs, her body shaking violently with anger.
