"When you self-righteously questioned me, what were you doing yourself, can I also ask where you went, Leng Yichen?"
After shouting that, Shu Qiqi immediately regretted it; she didn't want to embarrass herself.
"It's you who lacks decency. What right do you have to speak to me like that?"
The man's words hit her like a thunderbolt, making Shu Qiqi's head spin and her chest feel suffocated.
She lowered her gaze, her whole being dulled: "You're right, I'm not your real wife, so naturally, I have no right."
Watching the woman's frail, helpless back, Leng Yichen felt a painful twist in his heart: this wasn't the outcome he wanted; he didn't mean it this way.
Why won't this woman offer even a single explanation?
Leng Yichen walked into the living room only for the old lady's walking stick to mercilessly strike him: "You scoundrel, Qiqi is pregnant and you still yell at her, do you want to anger me to death?"
"Grandma."