The Middle-Aged Woman kept making calls. She was a little worried about Situ An.
No matter how formidable Situ An was out in the world, in her heart he would always be a child—a child who could get hurt, get into trouble, and make people worry.
"It's so late, and he still isn't back. He's not answering his phone, either. Did something happen to him?" The Middle-Aged Woman carefully dialed the number again.
Gao Ming stood beside her. He knew Situ An couldn't answer the phone, and he knew Situ An would never come back, because Situ An was inside his heart at that very moment.
"He must be busy. Let's eat while we wait for him." The Middle-Aged Woman put down the receiver and went back into the kitchen to dish up the rice.
The call had ended, yet Gao Ming still seemed to hear a phone ringing deep within his heart. The sound grew clearer and clearer, as though waiting for Situ An to answer.
The call went straight into my heart. What would happen if Situ An actually answered it?
Gao Ming looked at the dining table laden with steaming dishes. Sunlight poured through the window, dividing the room neatly in half.
The half he stood in was in shadow, while the side with the dining table was brighter.
"I keep feeling like that table isn't meant for eating." Gao Ming stayed in the shadows and turned to search the room, trying to find anything that seemed out of place.
"Situ An's home can't be all there is to it. He committed countless murders with his own hands. He owes a mountain of blood debts. So many innocent people were sacrificed and killed, so many happy families torn apart because of him. Why should his home get