Jian Si had already packed a few bags. There wasn't much, but there were still many things left in the house where the murder took place.
Having shed the identity of a suspect, Jian Si should have felt relieved, but thinking of Jian Hedong and Feng Piaopia, she felt the weight on her heart growing heavier.
"Sis, did Uncle really commit murder?" Zhengzheng looked dejected, sitting on his small suitcase, hanging his head and sighing.
Normally, such matters shouldn't be discussed with children, but Zhengzheng was not an ordinary child; he had the mental strength to bear it. Besides, ordinary lies couldn't deceive him. If he looked for his Uncle in the future, Jian Si couldn't think of a good enough lie to cover things up.
Of course, Jian Si did not mention the horrific details but simply said it was a moment of rashness. Although Zhengzheng was involved in the case, it was for a short time, and the complications of grievances and entanglements were better left unknown to him.
