Murong Ye turned around, his pupils contracting.
Who else could it be but Ye Chutang?
His expression was full of hatred. "Are you satisfied now?"
Ye Chutang's brow arched slightly. "What are you referring to, Mr. Murong?"
She glanced inside. Through the dense crowd, she could only catch a glimpse of the scene within.
But that wasn't why she had come anyway, so it didn't matter how much she saw.
"The people involved in this case are all closely related to me. Is it so strange that I've come?"
Murong Ye looked as if he'd heard a joke. "The nerve of you to say that! You know full well that the person kneeling in there is your own cousin! I know you have many grievances with her, but no matter what, you shouldn't have—"
"You're mistaken, Mr. Murong." Ye Chutang cut him off, her eyes cold. "The one lying in a coffin at the Yizhuang is my second aunt. She died under such mysterious circumstances. How could I just stand by and do nothing?"
"You—"
