Chapter 727: Do You Know About Qianqian's Poison

Because of this, Wen Ya remained highly favored for decades, and even her children could enter the Bo’s.

Especially after Old Lady Bo settled in Rongcheng City, in the Capital City, the Bo Family’s prominence became solely Wen Ya’s, and her status became increasingly indisputable.

But Bo Yanching and Bo Yuman never called her “Grandma.”

They merely addressed her as “You.”

“When did Grandpa’s illness start?”

“About six months ago.

He was always dizzy then, especially after stepping back from the Bo’s.

He was supposed to be enjoying his later years, but instead, sickness came knocking, and there was nothing he could do about it.”

Wen Ya sighed, “You guys chat.

Stay and have dinner at home tonight; I’ll get things ready.”

Bo Yanching stepped aside, clearing the way.

Wen Ya walked to the door, then turned back worriedly for a couple of glances before gently closing the door.

Bo Yanching stood a meter away, his hands resting at the sides of his trousers, his head slightly bowed, his voice low and mellow, “Grandpa.”

The old gentleman lightly responded with “Ah,” acknowledging him.

His voice was slightly hoarse, probably from not speaking for a long time, sounding rough with a thick and coarse texture, “I heard you arrived three days ago?”

“I did, but you were not available then.”

The old gentleman lifted his eyelids to give him a dark, slightly murky look, his intent gaze hiding a predator-like sharpness; unsurprising, given his dominance in his youth.

Though he had ancestors’ blessings, Elder Bo made his fortune not so much from family support but rather through his own efforts, reviving an already dilapidated and decayed lineage.

In terms of methods and courage, Bo Yanching admitted that if at the same age, he was not as ruthless and decisive as Elder Bo.

“Come, help me up.”

As soon as Elder Bo reached out, Bo Yanching consciously assisted him, arranging a couple of pillows behind him.

“You returned to the Capital City but didn’t stay at home, making it difficult for your Grandma Wen.

Do you really refuse to step into this house?”

Bo Yanching’s smile was ambiguous, “That’s not my intention, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

The old gentleman abruptly interrupted before he could finish, “Rascal, you come to me with questions right away.

If I were so sick I couldn’t even speak, would you not even give me a glance?”

Bo Yanching’s tongue touched his palate as a warm lamp was lit by the bedside.

The daylight streaming from outside collided with this light, subtly lifting his gaze, his pupils mysteriously shaded with gloom.

“Qianqian’s poisoning, were you aware of it?”

The old gentleman paused, his eye muscles flickering, suddenly fixing his gaze on him, “Presumptuous!

Who are you questioning?!”

Bo Yanching stood upright, “Do you know, or not?”

“I don’t know!”

Bo Yanching stared at him for a moment, the corners of his lips curling into a chill smile, “Good, take your rest.”

He pulled open a drawer, inside was an aged wooden box, its carvings indiscernible, its edges smooth, touched so often that they had developed a white rim.

It was locked.

Bo Yanching grasped the lock, twisting it forcefully, ripping it off with brute force.

The box opened, revealing many keys; he picked and choosed, finally selecting a silver one, which he threaded onto a keyring and slipped onto his little finger, showing it to the old gentleman.

“Is this the one?”

The old gentleman’s face twitched, his emotions unclearly agitated.

“It seems so.”

Bo Yanching pocketed the key in his palm and turned to leave.

“What are you planning to do?” the old gentleman’s voice came from behind, strained with anger, clearly defensive.

Bo Yanching half-turned his head, his face clearly angular under the dim light, half obscured, the coldness in his brows appearing settled.