On this side of Beijing, Qin Zhan, who had also put away his phone, wore a gloomy expression. His phoenix eyes were cold and fierce, his sword-like eyebrows slightly raised, and his thin lips were pressed together. He slowly turned around to look at Old Sir Qin and another middle-aged man in military uniform who had entered his study without his permission.
Old Sir Qin, seeing Qin Zhan's demeanor, knew his actions weren't well-received and cleared his throat lightly. "A Zhan, were you talking to Little Nine on the phone? It's so late, you're not going to sleep yet?"
Qin Zhan glanced indifferently at Old Sir Qin, then looked at the clock on the wall. It was exactly ten o'clock. He put the phone into his pocket, ignored the person next to Old Sir Qin, and said coldly, "You're right, I am going to sleep. You both should return to where you came from."
