After a pause, he continued, "My parents set fire to the flammable materials in the Chemical Plant to save me, and were blown up and killed along with those kidnappers."
He had never mentioned what happened back then all these years, let alone told anyone about it.
But when he faced Su Qiao, the words came out naturally, and he no longer found it quite so painful.
Su Qiao had not expected his circumstances to be so similar to hers.
When she was five, she had gone to play in the hills behind the village. By the time she returned, she discovered that every villager—including her parents and grandparents—was dead. Not even a dog had been left alive.
She gazed at the man with some sympathy. "Have you found your enemies?"
As if he had thought of something, a trace of killing intent flashed through Qin Mohan's dark eyes.
"The kidnappers are all dead. There's no evidence, so I can only guess."
Su Qiao thought for a moment. "The Qin family?"
After all, this man had ultimately gone head-to-head with the Qin father and son, and it had been the kind of conflict that would end only when one side was dead.
Qin Mohan restrained the killing intent around him, then smiled and reached out to stroke the top of her head. "Jiaojiao is so clever."
Su Qiao dodged away in displeasure. "Stop touching my head all the time."
In the past, anyone who dared touch her head so casually would have been sent flying with a single palm strike.
Just then, the phone in Su Qiao's pocket rang.
She put down the glass of milk in her hand and took it out to look.
It was an unfamiliar number.
"Who's calling?"
Su Qiao rolled her eyes at him. "Why