Song Zhiyang's gaze paused for a moment before he said, "He's fine, don't worry."
Ning Xixi believed him. In her heart, Song Zhiyang was a reliable brother, someone who would never lie to her.
"As for your father's matters... leave them to me." He was referring to the funeral. Ning Xixi understood, and her eyelashes, like butterfly wings, lowered as her small face was filled with melancholy.
Song Zhiyang patted her head affectionately, a flash of determination in his eyes.
The death of her father was already a significant blow to Ning Xixi. If she knew that Ji Yebai was the prime suspect in her father's case and was still being detained...
Song Zhiyang adjusted his glasses and gave a look to the servant.
Soon, the servant brought over a bowl of steaming hot soup. Song Zhiyang half-coaxed and half-tricked her, "Even if you don't eat, at least drink the soup. Don't make your brother worry, okay?"
Ning Xixi didn't want to trouble him and obediently drank the soup.
