"If it weren't for your second uncle's early death, Jiang Weixuan would have had nothing to do with it." Wishing to speak no further, she instructed the driver, "Liu, drive."
Jiang Weixuan was Jiang Zhi's father.
Lu Sheng didn't know what kind of grievances had existed among these three, but recalling now, Jiang Zhi indeed resembled someone. Her second uncle's belongings had been almost entirely sorted out back then, fearing that the old lady would find them too reminiscent, leaving behind only a few paintings that he had cherished most. In those paintings, the main character was always the same person, a girl in a dress who looked just like Jiang Zhi, with peach-blossom eyes and a national beauty.
It seemed that the girl in the painting must have been Jiang Zhi's mother.
Speaking of the purse thief, he knew his way well, turning into a small alley. Just as he turned, a black motorcycle came charging straight toward him.
"Screech—"
