Perhaps it was the loneliness of the night or the wine talking, but Song Qingchun felt vulnerable and needed someone to vent with. However, before she even spoke, her eyes started to get wet. "It was because of my brother, Song Cheng; he was murdered and did not commit suicide like we thought."
Such a twist, even spoken in Song Qingchun's light tone, stunned Su Zhinian. His hand shook, and the red liquid in the glass splashed out, staining the back of his palm.
Su Zhinian quickly put the glass down and pulled a napkin to dab at the spilled wine. He tried his best to calm himself, and facing her teary eyes, he asked with obvious disbelief, "What did you say?"
"I said, my brother did not commit suicide…" Song Qingchun repeated as she grabbed the wine bottle to pour herself another glass. As the tears flowed down her face, she added, as if worried that Su Zhinian did not understand her meaning, "To put it simply, my brother, he was murdered!"