Xu Jingxi took a drag on his cigarette, weariness crinkling his brows. The taste wasn't anything special, so he flicked it into the ashtray.
The sun had just risen; he picked up his laptop with one hand and started up the stairs.
His emotions were not displayed on his face.
Frederick watched him leave in silence before asking Schreyer, "He seems unhappy with the benefits from America; could it be he simply wanted to see Rathem being taken into custody?"
Remembering Mr. Xu's lonesome silhouette, Schreyer dared not speculate, "I don't understand, you'd better not overstep by asking."
That bodyguard was skilled and cold as ice, just like that gentleman, so naturally, Frederick held back, "None of Mr. Xu's people here are good."
Schreyer refused to engage in small talk.
What use are good people?
Xu Jingxi only cared if you were useful; if so, you were a person, if not, you were kicked aside.
Around the corner of the stairs, the bedroom door had just opened.
