Watching his grandson head outside, Zhao Dahu seemed to suddenly remember something and shouted at Zhao Xirui, who had already left the room:
"Tell that kid not to even think about entering my house without three pounds of meat."
Hearing his grandfather's voice behind him, Zhao Xirui nearly stumbled and fell as he walked toward the courtyard gate.
Who the hell brought several pounds of meat when paying New Year's calls at the Zhao Family? Wasn't that looking down on them?
Had the Zhao Family really fallen so low that they had to rely on others to send them meat?
Thoughts were one thing, but he couldn't stop walking.
Although he had no idea what was wrong with his grandfather today.
As the successor Zhao Dahu had raised since childhood, he still had to carry out Old Zhao's orders without question.
Even if Old Zhao's order was not especially reliable, Zhao Xirui still had to see it through. That was the Zhao Family's tradition.
You could have your own thoughts, but you had to keep them to yourself.
What I say is right, whether it's right or wrong.
That was Zhao Dahu's family tradition—overbearing to the extreme.
When he reached the gate, he saw Ye Yuan with a cigarette between his lips, leaning casually against the hood of a Mengshi.
"Xiao Yuan!"
Zhao Xirui hurried over warmly.
"Haha, Happy New Year, Brother Zhao!"
Upon seeing Zhao Xirui, Ye Yuan crushed out his cigarette and clasped his hands in greeting.
"Happy New Year to you too."
Looking at the two bottles of liquor and two boxes of tea by Ye Yuan's feet.
Zhao Xirui wore an awkward expression, unsure how to voice the old man's demand.
"Brother Zhao! What's wrong?"
Seeing that Zhao Xirui had no intention of inviting him inside,