Her heart was pierced with pain.
Ma Qianqian was dead, and besides disgust, all he felt for her was sarcasm.
She didn't call them Grandma Qin and Grandpa Qin; it was just a way of addressing them, not truly representing that she felt she was part of this family.
Slightly clenching the hand hanging by her side, she suppressed the pain in her heart and looked up to meet his gaze.
Under the moonlight, her dark eyes resembled the night sky, mysterious yet inscrutable.
"I know, your surname is Qin, mine is Feng. This is your Qin Family. I'm aware of that, and I don't need your deliberate reminders!"
After speaking, as if unwilling to exchange another word with him, Feng Jinglei turned and left.
But before her foot could reach the stair steps, his cold and emotionless voice echoed from behind.
"Fine, then don't just talk the talk."
Her body slightly stiffened as she turned to look at him, "What do you mean?"
