"All right. I understand, Chairman."
"Dad…"
Helan Fangnian's voice rang out from behind.
"Where have you been?" Helan Mingde snapped, glaring at him now.
"Young master," his secretary cried out.
"Go," Helan Mingde told him.
The secretary nodded his head. He quickly stuffed two tubes of blood samples into his work bag before leaving.
Helan Fangnian saw the action very clearly but did not say anything about it. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, "I shouldn't have left today…"
"You—" Helan Mingde wanted to give Helan Fangnian a good scolding, but his anger immediately dissipated at the sight of his son, the spitting image of himself when he was younger. This was his real son.
