Hearing this, Song Chengye couldn't help but frown slightly.
The old lady released his hand, straightened her back, and assumed her stance, saying, "The person is waiting outside the door right now. If you agree, go and call her in. It's rather cold outside."
Such a tactic—acting first and reporting later.
Such audacity—to claim it's none of an outsider's business to meddle.
Yet, here she was, reaching out her hand to meddle in their family affairs.
Song Chengye's eyebrows drew together slightly, and his gaze swept over Song Yan, without making a decision right away.
The old lady's attitude seemed to imply that should Song Chengye refuse, she would turn around and leave immediately.
Seeing Song Chengye's dilemma, Song Yan walked over and leaned beside him, saying, "Dad, since it's like this, just let the person come in. After all, so many outsiders have already arrived today, one more won't make a difference."
'Outsider' was the word the old lady had used to describe herself.
