The old man glared at the girl with clear disapproval as his hand unconsciously covered the drawer. "You used up all the leave slips already? Didn't I give you plenty last time?" Apart from this moment, he couldn't think of any reason for her to be grinning so sycophantically.
Qinghe's face darkened, feeling her self-esteem deeply wounded, but she didn't have the time to dwell on that. Her eyes, gleaming with eagerness, scanned the desk from every angle, wishing she could see through the thick wood to what was inside.
Although she couldn't tell what was causing the anomaly in that broken piece of stone, the only option left was for Qinghe's quick hands to touch each object on the desk.
The old man, confused by her bewildering actions, wondered if she had gone insane. There was nothing of interest on an old man's desk, just books and the like—nothing worth examining.
