"But," Qinghe suddenly spoke out, and everyone found this more fitting—this should be the girl's style indeed.
The woman glared at her; what was she stirring up now?
Qinghe's face remained gentle, her attitude casual, "Although I may not have the capability, it doesn't mean others don't. Don't say I lack familial affection and fail to warn Aunt. Aunt should be careful in the future. If Nasha loses even a strand of hair, Aunt's own head might be in danger. Now that Nasha has been injured like this, not just Aunt, but Uncle, and even your daughter overseas, could all be implicated."
The woman didn't care at all, feeling that Qinghe was being alarmist. This was a threat. Humph, it was nothing more than grandstanding; she wouldn't dare to harm her.
Everyone's expression changed, realizing something was amiss, and the sharp-eyed patriarch's eyes flickered, "Girl, who exactly is this Nasha?"
