The question was exceptionally devious and malicious.
It was a classic verbal trap, loaded with ill intent!
Yue Xiaofei's heart sank.
Damn it!
These bastards still wouldn't give up, even now. They were still trying these dirty tricks!
There was no good way to answer that question.
If his grandfather answered "yes," admitting that he hated everyone from Eastern Japan,
these unscrupulous media outlets would immediately take his words out of context and label him a "racist" and a "butcher."
They would smear this righteous trial as an act of petty, personal revenge.
Then international public opinion would turn against them in an instant.
But if his grandfather answered "no"...
the reporter would immediately ask why, if he felt no hatred, he was forcing a hundred-year-old man to kneel.
Why not show the magnanimity of a great nation and let bygones be bygones?
Whatever he said, he would fall into their carefully laid trap.
The audience caught on too, and instantly erupted in fury.
"Who does this reporter work for? Get out!"
"Fucking hell, still trying to twist the narrative? Throw him out!"
"Where's security? Drag this bastard away!"
But before the guards could step forward, Yue Qinhu waved a hand, signaling everyone to quiet down.
He lowered his gaze to the reporter from Eastern Japan, who stood far shorter than him, his face full of defiance.
There was no anger in his cloudy old eyes, only a calm that saw through everything.
"You little punk!"
Yue Qinhu spoke slowly. His voice was not loud, but every person heard him clearly.
"Listen carefully, and remember this."
"I have never hated the farmers working their fields, nor the workers laboring in factories. Even if they're from Eastern Japan, I don't hate them."
The old man extended his only remaining hand, covered