"An Lan, you... what are you talking about? Aren't you clear that your mother's death was because of An Guohua and Zhou Huimin? What does it have to do with me? You can't possibly think I harmed your mother, right? That's too absurd. I loved you so much back then..."
Xiao Yihe was all over the place, as if trying to prove something.
An Lan's face was as cold as ice. She understood Xiao Yihe too well—the more he tried to prove himself, the more it showed his guilt. Just as Zhou Huimin had said, Xiao Yihe was indeed the real murderer of her mother.
Her mother died because of Xiao Yihe.
She was trembling with anger, wishing she could reach through the phone line to grab Xiao Yihe by his collar and demand why he did it.
"Xiao Yihe, I went to see Zhou Huimin."
