"What?" Hearing what Ma Yanli had to say, Zhao Chuansong also showed an ugly expression, as Sun Zhijun's daughter and her friend had come to demand money.
Then, Zhao Chuansong looked at Hao Jian and Vivian with a frown, annoyed, "Even if you want the money back, it should be Sun Zhijun himself asking for it. What gives you the right to come here?"
"Sun Zhijun is dead, so I am here to reclaim his belongings for him!" Hao Jian said expressionlessly.
"Sun Zhijun is dead?" Upon hearing this, a trace of joy appeared on Ma Yanli and Zhao Chuansong's faces. If Sun Zhijun was dead, that meant there was no evidence against them, right? Who could prove that the bankbook belonged to Sun Zhijun?
Seeing the smiles on Ma Yanli and Zhao Chuansong's faces, Hao Jian's own expression turned cold; the ugliness of human nature was truly detestable.
"I didn't take his stuff, now get lost!" Zhao Chuansong bellowed arrogantly, not taking Hao Jian seriously at all.