Chapter 210 Tomb Sweeping

But she couldn't care less about any of that. It was as if all the bones in her body had been removed. She staggered forward a few steps and crashed headfirst into the light in front of the camera.

"Son! Your sister was killed by Song Zhiwei!"

Her voice was shrill, almost tearing the air apart, her face contorted and trembling with agitation. "Go kill her! Avenge your sister! You're a man! What's wrong with killing a woman? What kind of man are you?!"

Mr. Jiang sprang up from the sofa, his face ashen. He grabbed her arm and yanked her back forcefully, yelling, "Stop it! Are you crazy? How dare you say such things! Aren't you ashamed! This is a live broadcast! The whole internet is watching!"

His forehead veins bulged, and cold sweat beaded on his temples.

He knew his wife was always quick to speak, but he never expected her to say something so shocking at this critical juncture.

If this gets out, it will not only fail to salvage the situation, but will also push the son to the brink of despair.

Jiang Li stood in the corner, his face pale, his nails digging deep into his palms until his knuckles turned white.

He stared at his mother's狰狞 face on the screen, his heart feeling as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand.

He had only one thought in his mind—it's all over, everything is over!

He was terrified that she would say something even more outrageous, making his already precarious situation even worse, and that even doubling the compensation wouldn't be enough to cover the damage.

So he rushed forward, raised his right hand, and slapped the other person hard twice!

"Slap! Slap!"

A crisp, loud sound rang out in the living room. Jiang's mother's head was knocked to the side, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

She paused for a moment, staring blankly at Jiang Li, as if she didn't recognize him.

But Jiang Li didn't stop.

He raised his hand again and struck!

The force was even greater than before!

With a series of blows, the wind howled through her palms, causing her to stagger backward. Finally, unable to hold on any longer, her legs gave way, and she fell to the ground with a thud. Her head hit the corner of the coffee table, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, with only the live-streaming equipment still humming, recording this breathtaking scene.

After a long while, someone hurriedly helped her up, patting her face and calling out to her.

A few minutes later, Jiang's mother slowly opened her eyes.

But her eyes were no longer clear; they were murky like lake water in the mist, her gaze wandering aimlessly.

She grinned, revealing an almost naive, silly smile, and muttered, "Who are you? Where's my son? My son is going to be very successful in the future, so you all have to treat me well! Do you hear me? He'll be a high-ranking official someday! You'll all have to kneel down and beg me!"

Her words were incoherent, and her laughter was manic, sounding particularly jarring in the quiet room.

That's insane.

Jiang Li stood coldly to the side, not even raising an eyebrow.

He looked at the woman on the ground who had raised him with great difficulty, but felt no emotion whatsoever.

There was even a sense of relief.

He turned his head and said indifferently to Jiang's father, "Dad, starve her for a few days and let her leave early. So she won't cause any more harm."

After saying that, he turned and walked towards the bedroom, his back stiff as a puppet.

These past few days, he's been like a ghost.

He was in a daze all day, had no taste for food, and had nightmares when he slept.

Whenever I close my eyes, all I see is my sister's deathly pale face, my mother's screaming, and the overwhelming condemnation from netizens...

Those words pierced his nerves like needles: coward, loser, domestic abuser, psychopath...

He sat on the sofa in a daze, even his own reflection in the mirror seemed unfamiliar.

With prominent cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and a perpetually downturned mouth, he exuded an aura of gloom and decay.

Whenever he sees similar news images online—the hysterical family members, the out-of-control emotions, the bloody tragedy—his stomach churns, his throat feels bitter, and he almost vomits.

The live stream chat was already in an uproar.

Lines of red text scrolled by, a mixture of anger, sarcasm, and sighs:

Damn it, this family is inhuman!

How could Jiang's mother say such a thing? It was clearly her daughter who kidnapped and threatened others! And now she's turning around and accusing them?

[I was so angry I was shaking when Jiang Li hit his mother... but this mother deserved it! Driving her daughter insane wasn't enough, she even tried to instigate murder?]

[Song Xiaoxiao brought this upon herself, who can she blame? Her whole family is the problem!]

Sigh... But it's probably for the best that the old lady went mad in the end; perhaps it was a relief for her.

There was a chorus of curses and constant sighs.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Song Zhiwei sat quietly in the passenger seat, her hands gripping her phone tightly, her fingertips trembling slightly.

Her eyes were glued to the screen, watching Jiang Li's live stream replay, witnessing the bloody and absurd family farce unfold.

Sunlight streamed through the car window onto her face, but it couldn't dispel the chill in her heart.

Sheng Tingzhou gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his expression calm.

When the red light came on, he turned his head slightly and saw her pale face and unfocused eyes, and his gaze darkened.

The next second, he reached out and gently but firmly took the phone from her palm.

"Stop looking."

He spoke softly, his voice gentle yet leaving no room for refusal, "Look at me, hmm?"

Song Zhiwei paused for a moment, her eyelashes trembled slightly, and she slowly looked up at him.

In that instant, she saw her reflection in his eyes, filled with tenderness, determination, and an undisguised doting affection.

The heavy feeling that had been weighing on my heart was quietly cracked open by this sentence.

Her lips curled up slightly involuntarily, like the first tender bud quietly peeking out when the winter snow begins to melt.

He was protecting her quietly in his own way.

Even a single word or gesture could make her feel that quiet protection.

But she still gently shook her head, her voice soft yet clear and strong:

"I'm not that weak."

She gazed out the window at the rapidly receding street scene—tall buildings, tree shadows, and pedestrians—forming a flowing picture in the twilight.

The wind blew through the half-open car window, ruffling her hair and dispelling the gloom in her heart.

“Sheng Tingzhou,” she suddenly spoke, her tone calm yet resolute, “I want to go see Grandma.”

Sheng Tingzhou's lips moved, but he ultimately didn't ask any further questions.

He knew that the knot in her heart had not been completely untied, and he also knew that the woman buried on the outskirts of Jiangcheng had once been the warmest presence in her life.

So he didn't say anything, just silently stepped on the gas, turned on the turn signal at the next intersection, turned the steering wheel, and drove towards Jiangcheng.

...

As the sun sets, fiery red clouds burn across the sky, layer upon layer, like molten gold pouring down, a scene as beautiful as a meticulously painted oil painting.

A gentle breeze brings the coolness unique to late summer.

Carrying a bouquet of pure white lilies, Song Zhiwei walked slowly and solemnly into the depths of the cemetery.

The cobblestone path is lined with pine and cypress trees, their branches drooping low, creating a solemn and tranquil atmosphere.

She stopped in front of a simple tombstone.

The inscription reads: Tomb of the Loving Mother Jiang.

She knelt down and carefully placed the lilies in front of the monument. The petals, glistening with dew, shimmered softly in the glow of the sunset.

Then, she slowly bent down, touched her forehead to the ground, and solemnly kowtowed for the first time.

The second one.