Gu Ping'an sat on an iron chair, her pearl necklace swaying slightly as she slowly picked at her nails. The bright red nail polish looked like solidified blood under the incandescent light.
When she looked up, the smile on her lips formed a strange contrast with Qin Meihua's collapsed roar, as if she was a lady who had just put out a cigarette, rather than a murderer with blood on her hands.
"Why, after listening to all that shit complaining, you're finally willing to listen to the truth?"
Gu Ping'an sneered, and the handcuffs hit the edge of the iron table with a crisp sound.
She tilted her head to look at Qin Ying, and the light reflected by the pearl hairpin swept across her slightly trembling fingertips.
"Aren't you tired of pretending to be a little white rabbit for so long?"
Qin Ying's fingers hanging at her side tightened slightly, remembering that in the morning in the ward, Gu Ping'an had been sneering at her and still had a condescending attitude.
At this moment, she was handcuffed in the cold interrogation room, looking miserable. The scene before her eyes overlapped with the arrogant look in her memory, making her eyes look even more sinister.
She recalled the numerous evil deeds in the files, from spreading rumors to ruin reputations, to hiring thugs to commit violence, to murder and arson...
Every single thing he did was filled with Gu Ping'an's unique ruthlessness.
Qin Ying suddenly laughed, and the laughter was as cold as ice:
"I have no grudge against you, why do you have to force me into a desperate situation?"
Gu Ping'an suddenly threw his head back and laughed, his laughter hitting the cold wall and shattered into a sharp cry.
She suddenly threw herself in front of the iron bars, and the pearl hairpin fell off, and the scattered pearls rolled to Qin Ying's feet.
Beneath the messy hair, the once delicate and beautiful face flushed red, and the veins on the neck bulged:
"No grudges or hatred? Because Fu Hanzhou should have been mine!"
Her nails dug deep into the iron bars, blood seeping from her scarlet nail polish fingertips, leaving glaring scratches on the metal:
"I applied to the art troupe for him, rejected all suitors for him... I'm clearly the perfect match for him! What gives you the right? The musty smell you brought from the mountains, or your shabby status?"
She didn't know what she was thinking about, but her eyes suddenly became gentle, as if she had traveled back to the old times.
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