Feng Bailing recounted that "dream" for half an hour, until the tea in both their cups had gone cold.
Dongfang Lianhua's face was as pale as paper.
"Last night, Feng Zhanlian wanted to sell off Xiao Li. If it wasn't for Dugu Wu arriving in time, the one 'missing' would have been Xiao Li."
Feng Bailing clenched the teacup in her hand, looking down to hide the hatred in her eyes.
Xiao Li was only three years old, yet they had tried to harm her over and over again; those people's hearts were even harder than stone.
"Ah Ling, what do you want Mother to do?"
Dongfang Lianhua gripped her daughter's hand, her own was frighteningly cold, but there was no sign of retreat in her eyes.
She had been gravely ill, as if reborn, and her trip to the Imperial Palace had made it clear to her that only the three of them, mother and daughters, were truly bonded by flesh and blood.
