Mo Shiche sneered, his brows and eyes full of mocking coldness. Seeing this, Mo Qingshan grew angrier, and suppressing his rage, he said, "Why didn't you call me when grandma got sick? You've been living with grandma all these years, is this how you take care of her?"
"Call you?" Mo Shiche's lips curled up in a cold smirk, his laughter filled with derision, "To call a son who's always out keeping a mistress, never coming home, showing no filial piety, not caring about his wife and daughter? Grandma might get even more upset."
"You…," Mo Qingshan was so angry he couldn't speak, and he raised his hand to fiercely slap Mo Shiche!
"Slap—"
Mo Shiche's face turned to the side from the blow. He touched his face, then laughed without anger, squinting his eyes sarcastically at him, "Loser."
