In Qin Yuru's office, Qin Yuru stood there with a heavy expression, while Xiang Tiandong looked at her anxiously.
"President, what should we do now? Do we really have to hand over the Qin Clan to your third uncle?" Xiang Tiandong couldn't help but ask.
"Of course not, they killed Grandfather, and I will never let Grandfather's lifetime of hard work fall into their hands, no matter what," Qin Yuru said with determination on her face.
"But President, they have five percent more shares than us in their hands; we can't stop them at all."
Qin Yuru's face turned solemn, and her eyes flickered with a glint as she murmured to herself, "There must be a way, there must be a way."
Suddenly Qin Yuru's phone rang, and as soon as she answered it, her brows furrowed slightly, and she said, "Alright, I got it."
"What's wrong, President?" Xiang Tiandong looked at Qin Yuru with some confusion.