Wen Ning still wore a sour expression when he pushed open the door to his agency, looking thoroughly unhappy.
Big Yellow lay by the entrance.
When he saw Wen Ning return, his tail gave a single wag before freezing. He had never seen Wen Ning look like this. Wen Ning always came back smiling. Today was a rare exception.
Instead of crouching down to rub Big Yellow's head as usual, Wen Ning walked straight to the desk, picked up the half-full bottle of water, and gulped down most of what remained.
The Weasel Old Man had not stirred either. He sat in the chair beside the desk.
In his hand was that same old cup of tea.
He opened one eye and glanced at Wen Ning.
"Weren't you off treating someone from the Lin Family? Why have you come back looking like someone owes you eight million? What happened?"
Wen Ning set the water bottle on the desk.
"I've seen him. He's beyond saving."
Then he recounted everything he had seen at the Lin Family's home from beginning to end—the pustules covering the young man's body, the souls of kittens and puppies huddled by the bed, the strangulation marks around the orange cat's neck, and the dent in the puppy's head.
The Weasel Old Man held his teacup and fell silent for a long while after listening. He had lived for nearly a thousand years and seen far too much of this sort of thing.
So he understood why Wen Ning was angry.
He took a sip of tea and spoke unhurriedly.
"Boss Wen, in all my years, I've seen too many people who don't consider other lives worth anything. In their eyes, a cat or a dog is just an object. If they're happy, they play with it a