The day Shen Qingyi came back from France, her biological father had already been laid in the funeral parlor. Her stepmother Xu Wenyin stopped her at the entrance of the mourning hall and said that the bank owed foreign debt and asked her to sign to give up the shares. The concubine Xu Wenyin took away her jewelry. The locks of the room were changed, and even the laundry was thrown out by the servants. Shen Qingyi stood on the cold and wet road in the concession, looking at the telegram in her hand. The last line of my father's words was still burning: The account was wrong, there was someone in the Xu family. She wiped away her tears and dialed her father's old phone number. The voice that picked up on the other end was a man's. It was low and unfamiliar, but it seemed as if he had been waiting for a long time. Boss Shen asked me to leave something for you. She couldn't say thank you, and now I just want to find the truth.
