Tonight, Song Yan, clad in black and holding a white chrysanthemum, was the picture of someone dressed for a funeral.
At this moment, beneath the black veil, she was smiling wickedly, resembling the malicious villain in a story.
Once she let go, the bundle of white chrysanthemums dropped to the ground, the petals scattering eerily and starkly.
"Mrs. Jin, I came with such sincerity, even bringing birthday gifts to celebrate—why do you seem unhappy?" Song Yan adjusted her gloves, continuing, "Next time, next time I'll definitely bring a lavish gift."
"I've heard that even funeral wreaths come in designs now, what style do you like?"
Jin Zhiya's face instantly turned extremely ugly.
Enraged, Song Chengye said, "Song Yan! What are you trying to do? Don't go too far!"
Jin Zhiya quickly supported Father Song, soothingly saying, "Don't be harsh with Yanyan. If you have something to say, say it nicely. There are so many people here; don't lose your temper."
