Dian Prefecture.
Somewhere in a dim basement.
Inside a small, cell-like room.
Beneath the sickly yellow light.
The moldy quilt and the ceiling leaking everywhere looked so desolate.
A young man curled up on the bed, looking exhausted and forlorn.
In just a few days.
This once-favored son who had held absolute power in Mianbang had become a prisoner.
"Creak..."
The muffled sound of the door opening rang out.
The man merely raised his head slightly and said hoarsely, "Just put the food on the table."
Then he lowered his eyes again.
All sorts of emotions mingled in his gaze.
There was regret, frustration, and heartache.
After setting down the bowl and chopsticks, the person delivering the food did not leave, but looked around the cell at his leisure.
The man looked up in displeasure. "Was there something else..."
His voice cut off abruptly.
His body began to tremble, his breathing quickening.
He stared at the old man before him in disbelief.
Yes.
The old man carrying the food was none other than his father.
The old man whose power dominated the government.
The head of the National Situation Bureau.
"Dad..."
"No... Old... Old Luo."
Realizing his slip, Young Luo hurriedly changed his tone. "What are you doing here? I've already cut ties with you."
The old man stared fixedly at Young Luo, his plump face livid. After a long while, his expression softened.
"Good. Your brain still works. Even now, you're thinking of protecting me."
With that.
A trace of relief appeared on his face.
"You're afraid there are listening devices here, so you're deliberately acting distant with your old man."
The old man saw right through Young Luo's little scheme, his eyes narrowing to slits.
Perhaps, at that moment, he felt a little happy.
Bad as Young Luo