In the courtyard, Zhao Jinze lit a cigarette. In the bone-chilling cold, he took a few drags, exhaling clouds of smoke.
The glowing and fading ember, much like his silence, suppressed the anger in his heart.
"Third Uncle, is something seriously wrong?"
Zhao Rui walked over and asked.
Seeing Zhao Rui approach, Zhao Jinze shook his head and said, "It's nothing. This doesn't concern you kids."
Zhao Rui wanted to ask more, but Zhao Jinze waved him away, shooing him back.
The meal was an incredibly tense affair.
Zhao Jinze didn't eat either. After his wife finished, the two of them drove away from the old house.
Leaving Zhao Xin to sulkily hide away in the west room.
"What were you looking at just now?"
In the courtyard, Zhao Rui glanced at the west room, then turned to ask his younger brother.
"Brother, Zhao Xin has an injury on his neck."
"An injury?"
