Su Qingyu's face was as pale as paper, her features haggard and drawn. She pounded relentlessly on the locked door.,Three days ago, my grandmother fell ill. I went back home to visit her. As soon as I stepped into the room where I used to live before getting married, I was locked inside.,Shen Zhao looked at Su Qingyu with a blank expression, his face cold and hard. Only the depths of his eyes flickered with waves.。