Jiang Muwan vaguely guessed who Ouyang belonged to and whose side he ultimately joined.
In the circle of the Capital, it's large, but not so large that there are no traces to be found.
That day, after Mr. Song returned home from the Presidential Mansion, he went into his study and shut himself in, ignoring everyone; Though others couldn't tell how he felt, the butler, who had been with him for a long time, knew that his visit to the Presidential Mansion was not smooth, or perhaps he lost something.
"Sir," the old butler handed the cup of tea to the elderly man sitting by the window, calling out softly.
Mr. Song glanced at the tray in the butler's hand, casually lifted the teacup from it, held it with one hand while lightly touching the lid with the other, the worry on his face lingering like the dark clouds outside.
