"Uncle..."
A childish voice reached his ears, prompting Chen Qing to look back, only to see two little children gazing at him with wide-eyed anticipation, having thoroughly enjoyed their meals yet not daring to approach the table.
Noticing from a distance, the woman hurried over, scooped up the children into her arms, and came over with a smile to apologize: "I'm so sorry, sir, the kids are young, they don't understand manners...."
The woman looked anxiously at the two men, especially at her own husband.
At this moment, her husband's eyes were terrifyingly cold, a kind of indifference that was chilling to the extreme.
That look in his eyes was exactly the same as when he saw Zhang the blacksmith publicly execute his wife in the small town.
She was terribly afraid of that gaze, so much so that she even dreamed of it the previous night, with her husband holding a butcher's knife, peeling the flesh from their two children as if slaughtering chickens...
