Lu Lingche's voice was low, carrying a gentleness that even he hadn't noticed, "Haven't you already guessed that my mom is the one who orchestrated the car accident to have you hit? You hated her, so naturally, you hated me too, and you were angry and didn't want to see me."
Qiao Yin had indeed guessed early on, but she never thought that Lu Lingche would come right out and just say it like that.
She looked at him curiously, "Did the sun rise from the west? Why all of a sudden are you telling me all this? Are you planning on being a dutiful son even if it destroys your family?"
Lu Lingche was holding her, enveloped in her familiar faint scent, feeling somewhat content.
When they got married, he didn't feel anything extraordinary about holding her. At that time, holding her the most would be considered not resistant, without any eager feeling.
But now, he had discovered that she was extraordinary, holding her had become a desire and also a luxury.
