Since Cito was asleep on the couch from exhaustion, He Ao was still wearing the clothes he had on when he came back from the funeral home during the day—a suit of old-fashioned, tailored formal attire.
It was Cito's most expensive attire, the last suit he bought with his wife while she was still alive.
The suit had only been worn at his wife's funeral, and although nearly seven years had passed, it still maintained an almost brand-new look due to Cito's careful maintenance.
After enduring the fire, the formal attire had many pills, but overall, it still perfectly outlined He Ao's aged but erect stature.
"Old Geezer, you're not dead?"
The short-haired man carrying the drone suitcase recognized He Ao's face through the dim light. Surprise flashed across his face as he threw the suitcase on the ground, raised his gun to He Ao's forehead, and stepped in front of his long-haired companion, "What are you trying to do?"
"Asking for directions."
