Although Qiu Xiaodong had not spelled out the subsequent plan, Zhao Xiaolan already understood it clearly.
Leaning against the sofa, she closed her eyes and pondered for several minutes, her fingertips tapping lightly against her knee. When she opened her eyes again, resolve had already settled in her gaze. She nodded and said, "We'll do as you said.
Remember, aside from this condition, nothing else is very important.
A slightly lower salary is fine, and I can endure having fewer resources, but the Spirit Fruit must be delivered—and you have to guarantee that it really works."
Seeing that he had convinced Zhao Xiaolan, Qiu Xiaodong was overjoyed. He sprang to his feet, slapped his right hand against his chest, and thrust it out proudly as he promised, "Big Sister, don't worry.
The next time I talk to him, I'll make sure to explain exactly why this condition is necessary. We can even have him produce the Spirit Fruit first as a show of sincerity.
If he can't even do that, there's no need for us to negotiate with him."
Zhao Xiaolan gave a slight nod. Her gaze drifted from Qiu Xiaodong's face to the television screen on the opposite wall.
At that moment, the news reporter's voice floated softly through the air, but she barely took it in. Her mind was still calculating how eating the Spirit Fruit might restore the life span she had lost.
Time slowly slipped away in silence, and the sky outside grew darker and darker.
The streetlamp's glow passed through the gap in the curtains, casting long, slender shadows across the floor.
Before they knew it, the wall clock pointed to ten that night. The rumbling of a stomach broke the quiet.
It was time for a late-night snack.
This area was close to the