"Yes!"
A group of subordinates rushed over in a fluster, causing the playing cards to fly everywhere—
The man's figure was agile; the cruel training from his childhood had long made him adept at climbing like this. Young Master Chu swiftly climbed to the top, while Chennchenn's little head hung low. The late night was extremely cold; his clothing was thin, and he had already fainted from the cold, his small pink face waxy white, muttering unclear words, "Daddy..."
These were the words he would shout every day in his dreams.
The man's heart suddenly tightened, even his breath paused for a few seconds, as if something was tugging at him, a feeling that words couldn't describe, pounding heavily against his heart, thump, thump, thump—
His blood gradually began to boil.
Young Master Chu extended his hand, gently holding Chennchenn's nape, transferring the warmth from his palm to him.
Just one look was enough for him to be sure that this was definitely his son.
