Qiu Qianghai didn't even spare him a glance.
Sitting still without the slightest change in posture, not even a flicker in his eyes, he seemed as serene as a monk in meditation.
Anton Bolin's gaze lowered, observing the tightly clenched fist placed on the sofa, knowing that his inner world was far from calm.
Anytime he mentioned the woman in his mind, Qiu Qianghai's reaction was always of ruthless resistance.
"Tch!" Qiu Qianghai scoffed coldly.
He finally moved.
His eyes shifted to Anton Bolin sitting opposite.
Qiu Qianghai stared at Anton Bolin with a cold gaze, a wicked smile tugging at his lips, destroying the last vestige of gentlemanly demeanor.
He slowly began, "A candid conversation? You must want to push me into Hell, never to rise again."
"How could that be? Your current issues all stem from that lady. I think you both need deeper communication. This will aid your recovery more than medication and will be quicker and more stable."
