When Zhao Zhenwu woke up again, his wife had already left. The small house was already cleaned up without any trace of her and their son at all.
Zhao Zhenwu sat on the bed in a daze for a long time. For some reason, he touched the pistol on his waist.
His medals and his saber had all been stolen, but nobody wanted his pistol that was a standard weapon for generals. Perhaps the gun was as worthless as the generals in the capital right now, was it?
Zhao Zhenwu took out the mini storm bolter and touched it carefully next to his thigh. The light reflected from the barrel somewhat boasted weird attraction, alluring him to open his mouth and put the gun into it…
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Somebody knocked on the door.
Zhao Zhenwu shuddered and threw the pistol far away as if he had an electric shock. Calming himself down, he asked, "Who is it?"
"Old Zhao, it's me."
A familiar voice said sullenly from outside.
