"She was the one who first answered Beicheng's call, and then she kept crying," Mother Yan pursed her lips, a trace of embarrassment evident on her face. "If you don't like it, it's okay not to talk to her. Mom knows that Shuirou wronged you."
"It's nothing. I seldom come back, and it's better for us to speak openly face to face." Yan Xiaye steeled herself as best as she could, until numbness took over from the pain deep within before she pushed open the door and walked in.
In the living room, Yan Jianguo sat in the place of honor with a stance as imposing as a general's. His gaze upon Yan Xiaye was full of disdain: "Tell me, how do you plan to deal with Shuirou's issue?"
"How do I plan to deal with it?" Yan Xiaye, expressionless, sat down across the sofa with her arms folded and said carelessly, "How does she want me to deal with it?"
