Madam Murong scolded: "You...you are talking nonsense. Your daughter is the bastard that is ridden by thousands of people. He is my son, and he is Murong Mian..."
Mrs. Jones glanced at Murong Mian, who was staying away from the incident, and sneered: "Ha... do you really think I am an idiot? If he were Murong Mian, what did you secretly bury into the Murong family's ancestral grave a year ago? Was it a stray dog? "
As she said that, she stood up, took out a jar of something from a cardboard box, and put it on the table with a clang: "Look what this is, I asked someone to dig it out. Come and tell me, what's in this little jar?" What is that thing?"
When Mrs. Murong saw it, she started struggling.
That is the urn, that white ceramic urn, which she bought with her own hands, and the ashes in it were packed with her own hands. That is her son, that is her Randy.
Madam Murong struggled in the glass box, her legs kicked against the hard glass wall, her eyes were red, her face was full of hatred ignited by anger, and she let out a suppressed roar from her throat, but she gritted her teeth but did not speak.
Mrs. Jones opened the lid of the urn and pinched a handful of ashes inside. Sure enough, her action made Mrs. Murong even more angry. She actually had no strength anymore, but now, she kicked the glass box and was numb. The hands bound by the rope were struggling to break free, and the hemp rope could not feel the skin and flesh.
Mrs. Jones laughed, her features twisted, she looked at Mrs. Murong, with morbid joy on her face, and she said: "Hey, why are you so angry? Didn't you say that your son is not dead? Then why are you so angry, or... you Do you know what’s in here?”
Madam Murong's teeth had bitten her lip, and her eyes were so red that they seemed to be bleeding. She stared at the jar, and the sound in her throat was like the final cry of a dying prey.
Murong Mian listened and watched, slowly squeezing the hands in his pockets, but his face remained calm.
His indifference seemed particularly abrupt in this dark and damp basement.
The dim yellow light above his head fell on him, casting a black silhouette above him. He stood motionless like a tree, as if no matter what the other party did, he could not be disturbed or shaken.
Mrs. Jones laughed loudly. She suddenly grabbed a handful of ashes inside and scattered them vigorously.
The powdery ashes dispersed in the air, turned into dust, floated in the air for a while, and finally fell to the ground.
Mrs. Murong could no longer hold back and let out a heartbreaking scream: "Bitch, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you..."
Mrs. Jones laughed crazily: "Didn't you expect that one day you would end up in this situation? You can be angry, you can scream, you can do whatever you want, but now you can only end up in a nest with snakes and rats. , you want to save your son’s ashes, and you want to kill me, then you have to survive first, and beg your bastard son for help.”
Mrs. Jones knew that it would be difficult to attack Murong Mian. This man was extremely cruel.
Moreover, she couldn't control what he was thinking at all, so she could only start from Mrs. Murong's side.
Apparently, the effect was good. She had someone dig out the Murong family's ancestral grave here and dig out the urn that Mrs. Murong secretly buried without a monument. It contained her biological son Murong Mian.