A person far away, busy at the company, suddenly let out a loud sneeze, even startling the secretary reporting work at his desk.
"Director Han, do you have a cold?"
Han Xiangyang quickly shook his head: "No, you can continue reporting!"
Halfway through the secretary's report, he increasingly felt something was amiss. Afterward, amidst the secretary's puzzled gaze, he dashed out of his office and headed to the president's office on the top floor of the Lin Group.
At the doorway of the secretarial room outside the president's office, he was stopped: "Director Han, the president has already left."
He quickly frowned: "Do you know where he went?"
Actually, he was already starting to get annoyed inside. That damned bastard abandoned the company's affairs again. Was he trying to work him to death? The more Han Xiayang thought about it, the angrier he became, wishing he could throw down his work and run away.
But a sliver of responsibility inside him kept him from doing so.
