The man was very impatient.
He hadn't come here to be scolded.
He'd come to get the property deed.
Still, he studied the old woman's complexion. Didn't she look perfectly fine?
When people got old, it was hardly cause for alarm if they fell ill now and then.
Perhaps she'd already been feeling unwell, and he'd just been unlucky enough to show up at the wrong time.
He ignored the old woman. He didn't even call out to her.
Their argument last time was still affecting his mood.
He hated the disappointed look his parents gave him when they thought he was wasting his potential.
It was like having a bone stuck in his throat—an awful feeling, like he wanted to throw up but couldn't.
He went straight to the bedside table and began rummaging through it.
Ever since he'd seen the old woman in the room, he'd known he wouldn't be able to keep this a secret.
But it didn't matter.
He would leave as soon as he found the property deed.
What did it matter if the old man found out later?
As long as he didn't find out now and get in his way, that was all that mattered.
He hadn't expected the old man to come back so soon.
That fire had gone out way too quickly.
The man couldn't help grumbling to himself.
And where on earth had those two old geezers put the property deed?
After searching for a while, the man lost patience and snapped, "Hey, old man, where's the property deed?"
"Where did you put it?"
"Give it to me."
The old man looked at him. There was none of the tender warmth he'd shown his wife; his eyes were filled with disappointment. "When did I ever