Li Xiu looked at Elder Ping in the doorway and guiltily wiped his face. He felt like a bad influence who'd just been caught red-handed by the kid's father. Ping'an looked at Elder Ping's expressionless face and stammered, "Dad, I... Jincheng was..."
Glaring at Ping'an, Elder Ping closed the door and walked into the study. He looked at his younger son standing there anxiously, then at Li Xiu, who was already sitting calmly in a chair. It gave him a headache. When he'd returned, his wife had told him the two boys were talking in the study. He'd assumed they were just discussing a book they were reading. Who knew he'd walk in on such an explosive conversation? They were both in their twenties, but the difference was immense. Li Xiu was like a finely polished jade pendant—not dazzling, but clearly a masterpiece. His own son, on the other hand, was just a stubborn rock not even worth a second glance.
