In the living room of the house of Wen Yiming, Ji Qin sat casually on the sofa, his eyes occasionally glancing up at the second floor.
The bedroom with the tightly closed door, should be Wen Ya's, right?
Thinking of Wen Ya brought back memories of that blood-boiling experience, but in an instant, Ji Qin felt a chill in his lower abdomen and sat up straight, a bit unnaturally.
The wound had almost healed by now, yet the scene of Wen Ya glaring fiercely while stabbing him with a knife still haunted his dreams, waking him multiple times at midnight.
Wang Juan surveyed the furnishings in the living room, with a trace of unspeakable greed in her eyes.
This was Wang Juan's first visit to the house of Wen Yiming, and although Wen's seemed to be in a bit of a pinch these past months, from what she saw, the house of Wen Yiming was as luxurious as ever.
