Su Ziceng's face looked as if it was carved from ice. According to the caretaker, Su Qingzhang had nothing twenty years ago. So where did his wealth come from? Overnight riches in Mo City, where wealth was held by few, was a complicated matter indeed.
Pello was still carrying that toolbox, walking at a steady pace, just in line with Su Ziceng, and he caught every bit of the changes in Su Ziceng's expression.
What Su Ziceng was thinking at that moment was exactly what Pello was thinking; he, too, wanted to know where Su Qingzhang's tremendous wealth had come from.
"Pello," Su Ziceng stopped outside a phone booth at the cemetery, thoughtfully staring at the phone booth under the thick snow, "can you help me contact this number?" Her English was not good, and she was eager to contact the Qiao Family's descendants to understand everything that had happened.
