The voice from the handset was very unfamiliar.
It was a man's.
His tone was very polite, and his voice deep.
"Hello, Zijin sister, I'm sorry to disturb you at this time," he said, "I am Ying Tianlv."
Ying Zijin tilted her head, her voice indifferent: "I'm not your sister."
Between the words, there was endless coldness.
No emotional fluctuations, no warmth.
It was hard to imagine what hardships one had to go through to become like this.
Ying Tianlv, who had always been indifferent to women's feelings, felt a chill in his heart.
Although he had only met Ying Zijin once, back then, she would still smile at him.
The smile was small, but it was sincere.
Ying Tianlv paused for a moment: "Sorry, I didn't mean to call you that on purpose,"
After a pause, he continued: "I have learned about everything my mother did to you, and I really didn't expect her to do such things."