At Shen Qiancheng's memorial service, people who had crossed paths with the young man in one way or another talked about the person they remembered.
Bai Qingyu clutched his wounded heart. "He stole my heart and never gave it back. What a scoundrel."
Fu Xingshuang, wearing a collar around her neck with the initials "SCQ," had tears in her eyes. "My master... No matter what, you'll always be my beloved, wicked master..."
Shen Qingcheng, who always wore a cold expression in front of outsiders, said, "He's my little brother, and also the husband I raised from childhood."
"He belongs to the Yin family in life, and even death can't take him away from us... I'm the one he loves~"
Yin Rushi, who had always been at odds with the Shen family, insisted on turning his funeral into her own wedding.
The mature woman watching the farce from a distance simply rubbed her large belly. "Go meet your father, sweetie..."
