Chen Ding was very doubtful whether there was a problem with his ears.
His father was dead.
He was crushed to death yesterday morning.
It's not even forty-eight hours yet, to be precise, not even thirty hours have passed.
As a son, he never considered what inheritance or savings his father might have left him.
But his cousin, at this time, was already thinking about it!
But so what if he's thinking about it?
Even if there's only a dime inside, could it still be given to him?
Chen Ding stared blankly at Chen Xiao, and seeing him pulling his arm, he belatedly responded.
Could it be that there really is something fishy in his old father's account?
Thinking of this possibility, Chen Ding came to his senses and followed Chen Xiao outside.
Out of the questioning room, the two split up.
Chen Ding went home to find the passbook.
Chen Xiao went to the police to get documents, otherwise, they would definitely face a lot of trouble at the bank later.
