Bo Siyan wiped his hair with a towel, his thin lips pressed tightly into a hard, cold line, his whole body exuding a suffocating chill.
He was silent, and the adjutant dared not make another sound, standing there waiting.
The spacious living room quieted down, leaving only the sound of the minute and second hands of the antique clock on the wall ticking, making one's heart tremble unconsciously.
About two minutes later, Bo Siyan tossed the towel onto the sofa and spoke up, "What do you want to say?"
The adjutant heaved a silent sigh of relief, patting his chest as he said, "Colonel, I think you should let the young master stay."
No sooner had the words come out than the man's icy, blade-like gaze shot over, and the adjutant swallowed hard, maintaining his composure, "Colonel, don't look at me like that, listen to me finish."
