While Su Qiao was making a fire to cook instant noodles, the atmosphere in an office on the fourth floor was somewhat oppressive.
"Ah Hai..."
Zhang Wenli glanced at the man smoking on the sofa and fearfully leaned toward her husband, Song Hai.
"Don't be afraid."
Song Hai patted her shoulder and gently comforted his wife.
Then he looked at the man on the sofa. "Mr. Kang."
Kang Weibao exhaled a ring of smoke and quietly looked at him. "Song Hai, how long have you worked under me?"
Song Hai thought for a moment. "Exactly five years."
Kang Weibao nodded slightly and lightly tapped the ash from his cigarette. "How have I treated you?"
Song Hai's heart rose even higher.
"Mr. Kang has treated me... very well."
Kang Weibao stared fixedly at him for a long while before speaking again:
"Song Hai, you've followed me for so long. You should know very well what kind of person I am."
"Xiao Hui may be a little unruly, but he's my only son. I don't want him to have any regrets, and I don't want him to be in any danger. Do you understand?"
Song Hai's hands clenched at once, and his expression became extremely grim.
Zhang Wenli was even more frightened, her face turning deathly pale as she clung tightly to his arm. "Ah Hai..."
Song Hai turned to look at his wife, gritted his teeth, and suddenly dropped to his knees with a thud on the beige tiled floor.
"Mr. Kang, I'm very grateful for how you've nurtured me all these years, and I'm also very grateful that you didn't abandon me even after the apocalypse began, but..."
Song Hai's eyes were bloodshot as he tightly held his wife's hand.
"But Xiao Li is my wife. We grew up together.