The Old Master Jiang's expression was heavy, but if you looked closely, you could see a hint of... undeserved compassion in those sharp eyes.
Of course, Mu Qingxin did not notice, because at this moment she was so nervous that she forgot to breathe, feeling as if a pair of hands were tightly squeezing her throat, trying to crush her windpipe.
"Whose child is it?" asked the Old Madam Jiang.
Mu Qingxin clenched her hand, "It's mine."
"You alone can have a child, who is the man?"
"... The Old Madam doesn't know him, anyway, it's not Jiang Yixiu." She knew what the Old Madam was thinking, so she first dismissed this possibility.
The Old Madam Jiang had lived so many years and understood some people and some matters better, she took two steps forward, "Mu Qingxin, your words might deceive someone else, but it's foolish to try to deceive me. I'll ask you again, is this child Yixiu's?"
"No—"
