"That's good."
After a wave to the doctor, Xing Family's patriarch slowly approached the hospital bed and looked at Xing Liehuo, who didn't acknowledge him, "How do you feel?"
"Won't die!"
The voice was as cold and hard as ever. The patriarch nodded, pretending not to hear the defiance in his voice. After all these years, he had encountered too many of these types of stubborn challenges.
"Rest well!"
With that, he turned and left.
Lian Qiao finally breathed a sigh of relief. With the leader gone, her heart could at last beat normally again.
Little did she know, the black-framed glasses-wearing personal secretary who had accompanied the patriarch stayed behind, glancing at her indifferently, yet with a reasonably good attitude.
"Miss Lian, the Old Master requests your presence."
A request?!
'Request' is a term used by cultured people, and to be more precise with the underlying meaning—it should be said this way—picking a fight!
