"Why can't they be treated the same?" Pei Yicheng sneered, "I can't marry the person I love, but you can? Pei Guozhong, did you remember what my mom was like when you were holding Wan Hongxing? Do you remember how my mom died?"
Pei Yicheng's tall figure stepped forward, his pitch-black eyes blazing as he stared at him, aggressively asking, "You're never home because you're always busy, my mom went to bring you a meal, and then—a huge truck…"
"Stop!"
Pei Guozhong shouted loudly, his face changing several times. Pei Yicheng's gaze seemed almost tangible, like a knife stabbing straight into his heart.
Du Ya's death was the thing he felt most guilty about, and the thing he least wanted… to mention.
