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"You still have the nerve to talk, see for yourself." With that, General Situ threw the painting right into Lady Tang's face, and then added fiercely, "You better give me a good explanation for this matter."
Confused, Lady Tang picked up the scroll that had been thrown at her face, looked up, and instantly froze, shock overtaking her. Hadn't that wretched woman been dead for over a decade? How could her portrait still exist?
"Old Master, how could the Prince have my sister's portrait? When my sister was alive, the Prince was only a few years old, and he couldn't possibly have seen my sister." Holding the portrait, the more Lady Tang looked, the more alarmed she became—it seemed as if the painting had just been made, and the paper was new.
"She's not Junjun."
"Oh!" Lady Tang let out a sigh of relief, scared to death—she had thought that little cheap person had come back to life.
"It's our daughter."
"Our daughter?"
"To be precise, she's the daughter of Junjun and me."