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They didn't need to rush, with Zhao Mingchen's death, Jingxing Group's stock had plummeted to a halt. If Zhao Hanchen didn't have the ability to stem the tide, his fall from power was just a matter of time, and all they had to do was wait.
Now, only the word "endure" stood as an unassailable truth.
When Zhao Hanchen arrived at the cemetery holding the urn, the snow was falling so heavily that it was hard to keep one's eyes open.
The butler held an umbrella for Zhao Hanchen, following him with difficult steps.
"You don't need to hold the umbrella for me," Zhao Hanchen said faintly.
The butler couldn't bear to, but gave Zhao Hanchen a sympathetic glance.
Since the old master passed away, the Family Head hadn't shed a single tear.
Yet, he could tell that the only ones truly grieving for the old master were himself and the Family Head.
The sorrow of the Family Head was even greater than his own.
