The night was thick, and it was already half-past nine in the evening.
The winter in Myanmar is not as piercing as in the South Sea, with not much difference in temperature between day and night.
Su Moshi had already taken away Prince Wu Lv, and outside the courtyard pavilion, Li Qiao was holding a phone call.
In the study, Shang's father and son sat opposite each other, sipping tea and chatting leisurely.
Shang Zonghai put down his teacup and instinctively began grinding ink, "You heard what Old Wu said just now."
Shang Yu took a sip of tea and looked up at the other side, "What do you want to say?"
The conversation between the father and son was always profound and meaningful.
Shang Zonghai continued to grind the inkstone slowly, his deep eyes filled with light, "Protect her well, the girl is not safe in Myanmar."
Shang Yu pressed his lips together, shadows flickering in his eyes, "Naturally."
