Ye Yan clutched his chest, his face etched with pain.
He gasped for cold air, attempting several times to get up without success.
With a "bang," he fell back to the ground, his cheek pressed against the cold floor, looking thoroughly disgraced.
Old Master Ye couldn't bear to look and turned his head away.
Ji Mingqian picked up the dagger from the ground, clicking his tongue, "Li Mochan said if anyone touches his wife, I shouldn't be polite and to strike to kill— he'd take responsibility."
Ye Yan leaned against the wall to hoist himself up, his chest burning like fire, and he couldn't help coughing.
"Cough, cough."
Lifting his head, he looked past Ji Mingqian, glaring at Ye Jiuliang, "You've conspired against me."
Ye Jiuliang rose to his feet, speaking indifferently, "Is this really important to discuss right now?"
"Just say it, what exactly do you want?" Having nothing left to lose, Ye Yan abandoned his last shred of pretense.
