"Even in front of your father, you both still fight like fools! HAVE YOU BOTH NO RESPECT FOR YOUR DEAD FATHER!?"
They both turned around only to find Madame Mo standing there, dressed in a long white mourning robe. Behind her stood a few servants, their heads lowered respectfully.
Her face was stern, a deep frown carved across her features as she glared at the two siblings. The air instantly grew heavy, and even Mo Lan, who had moments ago been shouting, quietly lowered her gaze.
Madame Mo took slow, graceful steps forward, the sound of her wooden slippers echoing softly through the hall. Her eyes swept from Mo Lan to Mo Ying, sharp and cold.
"Your father's body isn't even cold yet, and this is how you choose to behave?" she said icily. "Arguing like commoners in the mourning hall, how utterly disgraceful."
Mo Ying's jaw clenched as he straightened his posture, trying to hold his composure, while Mo Lan bit her lip, pretending to look remorseful.
