Mr. Gu, you're absolutely right; Mrs. Gu really can't do much to you.
With someone as black-hearted as you, if she could do anything to you, she'd have ascended to sainthood.
Mrs. Gu, infuriated, nodded repeatedly, her anger flaring up like wildfire: "If you're so capable, keep limping then."
"As long as I can limp, I will," Mr. Gu responded leisurely.
The man leaned against the sofa, flipping through the folder in his hand as if it were a seven-star hotel menu.
The more he savoringly flipped through it, the more unhappy Jiang Muwan felt.
She had a smiling face but cursed him inwardly.
When Song Rong came out of the kitchen and saw Jiang Muwan standing in the living room, she told her to wash her hands for dinner.
Jiang Muwan complied, putting her things down, washing her hands, and heading to the dining room, ready to eat.
As Song Rong set the table and saw Jiang Muwan leisurely come alone, she looked at her for half a second and finally couldn't help but ask: "Just you?"
