Han Wenxuan's expression turned cold as he stared at her, seeing the way she so righteously demanded money from him—as if he owed her by birth. He couldn't help but feel angry: "I don't have any money."
"Han Wenxuan, does the saying 'a day as husband and wife is worth a hundred days of grace' mean nothing to you? Not to mention we've been in love for years. Are you really going to be this heartless?" Wu Meiting showed no urgency, speaking slowly, her face still twisted with hatred. "If it hadn't been for your betrayal, we might not have come to this point. Do you really feel no guilt toward me whatsoever?"
"Let's not bring up the past," Han Wenxuan replied bluntly, his disgust clear. "You mentioned earlier that the Han Family isn't what it once was. If you're going to make outrageous demands, I really can't help you."
"Relax, I'm not asking for much."
"How much?"
"Two hundred thousand yuan."
Han Wenxuan's brow twitched, and he sneered: "You really dare ask for that much!"
