Jiang Muwan was more than just a shrew, wasn't she?
She was worse than a shrew, for no shrew had her kind of tactics.
If all shrews were as cunning and scheming as her, this world would truly be dominated by shrews.
After the commotion that morning, the atmosphere in Gu Mansion was especially tense.
Robby kept Jiang Muwan locked up in the annex building, with the doors and windows locked, indifferent to her cursing and swearing inside.
In the main house, in the spacious walk-in closet of a second-floor bedroom, a man's face was covered in a frosty demeanor as he undid his shirt buttons one by one, then peeled the damp shirt from his body, revealing a robust waistline.
As the man reached for a shirt in the wardrobe, his fingertips grazed the pristine white fabric, and through the glass doors of the wardrobe, he saw the bloodstains on his neck.
And they were fresh.
Whose handiwork could it be?
Who else but Jiang Muwan?
Sooner or later, he would clip her claws.
