Those outrageous speculations, upon careful consideration, seem increasingly credible.
However, even if they're true, it has nothing to do with him.
He is not interested in others' private affairs.
Lu Ziyuan half-leaned against the back of the chair, rubbed his throbbing temples, and suddenly asked, "What day is it today?"
Mingjian was taken aback and replied, "... the eighth of September."
The eighth of September...
Wanwan had left him nine months ago.
Lu Ziyuan reached out to cover his eyes, veins bulging on the back of his hand.
"Leave."
Over the past half-year, Mingjian had grown accustomed to his master's unpredictable moods and swiftly left upon hearing the command.
The door gently closed, sealing the proud and unyielding man inside.
No one could glimpse his pain and despair, his disgrace and plight.
......
The next day, at dawn.
In the brightly lit hall that had been illuminated all night, the chins of the three men bore a hint of stubble.
