Although her granddaughter's eyes were always clear, they were soft and never had such a cold, sharp yet still clear light. Such eyes—what had they gone through to become so tempered?
"I am Xixi." Her cold eyes gradually misted over as she gazed at the increasingly blurry face of Leng Jianjun, and Ling Xi slowly lowered her head, "I'm sorry, Grandpa. I have been deceiving you all along."
Even though this could be considered a benevolent lie, Ling Xi knew that she was no different from a thief, stealing Little Xixi's happiness and her family. Everything should have belonged to her. Maybe if she had not ended up at the Leng Family's home by some twist of fate, Little Xixi might not have died.
Tears quietly trailed down her cheeks, bringing Leng Jianjun's shocked heart back to reality. Seeing the glistening tears on the face of his precious granddaughter, who had never cried in front of them through all the pain and suffering, Leng Jianjun's heart ached exceedingly.
