The steward stood silently to the side, head lowered, seemingly lost in thought.
There was no sorrow or despair on his face, but rather a hint of subtle anticipation.
It seemed as though he was waiting for something, waiting for a turning point, an opportunity.
At that moment, a voice suddenly echoed in his mind:
"Steward, you don't seem to be surprised by all this, do you?"
The steward abruptly raised his head, only to find Zhang Beixing had somehow appeared before him.
A wry smile hung on his lips, and his eyes were full of inquiry.
"Mr. Zhang, what do you mean by this?"
The steward quickly resumed a respectful stance and asked softly.
"I just think you don't seem to be grieving over Peter's death."
Zhang Beixing spoke leisurely, his tone carrying an undeniable authority.
"On the contrary, I've seen in your eyes... you're waiting for something? I'm very curious, what exactly are you plotting?"
