A steward knew naturally what matters could be pleaded for and what matters could not. From his master's words and manner, he could read the situation clearly.
This time, the master was truly enraged! The steward sighed inwardly and secretly glanced at Yue Qianchou. Knowing the young master had provoked someone he could not afford to provoke, not only did he refrain from pleading for him, he even reached out and gave the young master's fat waist a shove, signaling him to go over and obediently admit his mistake.
The steward also understood that the young master was, after all, the master's son. No matter how furious the master was, at most he would punish him. He would not truly do anything to him—could he really beat his own son to death?
The fat young master glanced at his gang of fair-weather friends. They, too, could see that he had offended some great figure. Those who relied on power to bully others naturally understood better than common folk that those stronger than themselves could not be bullied. One by one, they wore expressions that said, Brother, seek your own blessings.
"Rebellious son! You even dare disobey me?" Yue Wuchou roared again, his face twisted with rage.
The fat young master shuddered. With the steward beside him giving him another gentle push, he finally covered his swollen left cheek and walked over tremblingly, weakly calling, "Father."
"I'll beat you to death, you rebellious son!" Without another word, Yue Wuchou swung out with a slap. With a smack, the fat young master staggered, and a bright red palm print appeared on his right cheek. Still, it was far easier to bear than Yue Qianchou's blow; it had not sent his whole body flying. This little pain, he could endure.
"Kneel!" Yue Wuchou