The housekeeper, Aunt Shen, still didn't know what had happened. When she came into the living room and saw this "mother and son," she only felt that something was off in the air.
In the scenes the housekeeper had witnessed in the past, it had always been a loving mother and filial son.
Though Gu Xici was a cold, indifferent person, he had always been very respectful to his mother—nothing like the disgust he was showing now.
Zhu Shuanghua's tears fell one by one, her agitated lips trembling.
She watched Gu Xici, who had already started up the stairs, and still couldn't hold back. "Xici, do you really hate me that much?" she said.
Hate—at this moment, what a ridiculous word it was.
He had just asked Jiang Yi the same question.
And the answer he got had disappointed him to the extreme.
Hate wasn't the most terrifying thing. The most terrifying was when there wasn't even hate—when it was indifference, no accounting, no response.
