"How can you talk like that!"
Xie Xiuxiu's face changed color, anger born from guilt tinted her worn, weather-beaten face: "Why stir things up unnecessarily? Death is final, like a snuffed-out lamp. What's the point of looking into all this now?"
"That was your own flesh and blood!" Song Zhaozhao could no longer suppress her emotions: "You cried your heart out at her funeral, even lashed out at me. I thought you cared about Zhao Yan!"
Xie Xiuxiu's eyes turned red at Song Zhaozhao's words. Of course, she grieved for her daughter. She had learned how her daughter died just the other day, and it pained her more than anyone could know.
But Zhao Yan was dead, and the living had to go on.
"I am Zhao Yan's mother! Of course, I grieve for her!" Xie Xiuxiu exclaimed angrily: "But she's dead now! The Liang family offered us ten million! How could I refuse!"
