In Zhao Xixi's view,
her father Zhao Shoujiang had come to confess.
Holding the bottle of orange juice, Zhao Xixi was still thinking, after all these years, perhaps she had been too harsh on her father.
After all, he had just experienced the death of her mother, and the death of her mother was her own doing. It was normal for him to detest himself.
But she did not know.
Zhao Shoujiang, who had left in the car, now had a sinister smile on his face.
Perhaps, in his eyes,
emotions in this world were cheap.
Only power was real.
"All is taken care of, you should be able to go in in half an hour,"
he said into the phone.
On the other end of the phone, Mei Shikang was actually in a car across the street from the motorcycle shop.
He had witnessed everything that had just transpired.
"What if she doesn't drink it?"
Mei Shikang asked, somewhat worried.
Zhao Shoujiang replied, "Don't worry, she will drink it."
"How do you know? She clearly threw it away."
