He cried out hoarsely: "Just like two hundred years ago, when mother took her life in front of me, I hated you terribly!"
A shocking statement like a bolt from the blue.
Ye Qingzhou's hand resting on the sword at his waist trembled violently, his voice also trembling: "What did you say?!"
He suddenly leaned down, grabbed the collar of the hysterically laughing Ye Yichuan, and yanked him up heavily, locking eyes:
"Didn't you say your mother died of illness?! How could she take her own life?! How could she commit suicide!"
Ye Qingzhou's fist clenched tightly, yet Ye Yichuan easily broke free and pushed him aside.
The son made no effort to hide the deep-seated hatred in his eyes toward his father.
He looked coldly at Ye Qingzhou, chuckling: "Yes, tell me, why would a mother choose to hang herself from the rafters at home after her son returns from school?"
