Knock, knock, knock.
Ji Ziming rapped his knuckles on a mahogany door.
"Come in," a low and strong male voice said.
Pak! Ji Ziming opened the door and strolled in.
It was a study room with the color scheme of black and furniture made from the best agarwood. Actually, anyone knowledgeable about wood would be able to tell this simple fact from the fragrance wafting in the room.
"Father." Ji Ziming saw his father sitting in the long chair meant for guests in the corner of the room. On the wooden side table next to the chair was a freshly brewed tea.
"Sit." The middle-aged man sitting in the wooden chair resembled Ji Ziming. However, while Ji Chengtian had sharper facial features and a somber disposition, Ji Ziming had a chiseled face and an indifferent disposition.
Besides these, they looked similar in all other areas. It was to the point that one would be able to identify them as father and son with one look.
