He would never get tired of that word.
She was indeed Satan. Qui Chin could see it. In her eyes, there wasn't an ounce of mirth or contemplation. Rong Xinghe had been writing her destiny since the moment she had picked up that knife and stabbed Ningtao. Thrice. She should've known better than that. Rong Xinghe had two bottom lines. Her country. And her family. She had been stupid enough to cross the latter. Death was actually the only mercy for her. Otherwise, who knew what more had this woman planned for her.
Qui Chin swallowed the lump in her throat as she reminisced all her memories, her hands stretching up towards the knife on the table. She thought of Sun Cheng. And of her daughter. But then of Elena. Maybe that was where it all started. Elena's suicide. Now that she thought of it, this was more of Sun Cheng's revenge than that of Rong Xinghe's.
"He knew about it, didn't he? About your revenge. My husband.", Qui Chin cackled, as if demented.