Lu Lingche felt as if an invisible arrow had hit his knee, a hint of helplessness finally surfaced on his indifferent face.
He had a premonition that she might mock and ridicule him about this for the rest of his life.
As he leaned against the wall, not leaving, Qiao Yin curiously looked at him: "Your future mother-in-law has committed suicide, and your fiancée is definitely not doing well, shouldn't you rush to the hospital to see them?"
"There's no need. Chances are they're just acting."
Qiao Yin expressed even greater astonishment: "So, you actually knew that they could act?"
"I didn't know at first, as I wasn't familiar with them and never paid attention to them. I didn't care whether they were acting or not. But when they act too many times, even if I don't pay attention, I would notice."
Lu Lingche's tone was indifferent as he reached out and took hold of Qiao Yin's hand again: "I'm sorry."
Qiao Yin was somewhat puzzled: "Sorry for what?"