Mu Qianshui's targeted words pierced through Yan Xinxin's heart like a sharp blade.
An invisible pain, silently spreading.
Seeing Yan Xinxin frozen in place, Mu Qianshui's lips curled up in triumph.
"The reason Chuxi even noticed you must be because of that face of yours, so similar to my late sister's, isn't it?"
She chuckled softly.
"Yan Xinxin, don't you think it's utterly pathetic? From beginning to end, you're merely benefiting off a dead person?"
"Mu Qianshui, that deceased person was your sister. Referring to her as a dead person every other sentence—don't you think that's excessive?"
Yan Xinxin questioned while gazing at the woman in front of her, who was chuckling lightly.
Mu Qianshui's expression froze briefly as she savored the three words "sister," a cold, mocking smirk flickering in her eyes.
"It wasn't Chenxi wanting to see me. It was you, using the child's name as an excuse to summon me here just to hear this, wasn't it?"
Yan Xinxin exposed her.
