Ying Mingkang did not believe such nonsense for a second.
A man hoarding his late wife's dowry-was he not afraid of becoming a laughingstock if word got out?
Only Ying Xuejie could do something so disgraceful.
Ying Mingkang knelt and said:
"Father, my sister and I are grown now. We can manage the estates and shops ourselves, so there is no need for you to trouble yourself managing Mother's dowry for us anymore.
Please return Mother's dowry to my sister and me."
The moment Ying Mingkang knelt, Ying Xuejie's eyelid began twitching wildly. Sure enough, nothing good was coming.
The countries on this continent expressly stipulated that a wife's dowry was hers to manage, and her husband could not interfere. After her death, her entire dowry belonged to her biological children. If she had no children, it had to be returned to her natal family. Her husband had no right to dispose of it.
Any man with a little wealth and backbone would never touch his wife's dowry, lest word spread and make him a laughingstock.
But Ying Xuejie was greedy for both money and women. He had thought that, by keeping his first wife's two children firmly in his grasp, he could pocket her dowry.
He had never imagined that his legitimate son's wings had grown strong enough for him to pull this stunt in front of such distinguished guests today.
It seemed he would have to hand over the dowry today.
When Ying Xuejie remained silent for a long time, Song Yaoyao said:
"As far as I know, the Four Kingdoms expressly stipulate that a deceased wife's dowry belongs to her children. What do you mean by holding on to your late wife's dowry, Master Ying? Are you openly defying the Imperial Court's laws?"
Ying Xuejie's expression changed