Vice Dean Jia said awkwardly, "Old Song, what are you thinking? How could I possibly ask you to do such a thing?"
Song Qingyun finally relaxed. As long as it wasn't that kind of thing, everything else was negotiable.
"So, what exactly do you want me to do? If there's something, let's get it over with quickly. You know I'm anxious and need to leave soon."
Vice Dean Jia couldn't bring himself to say it.
After all these years, he still had a face to save. If he said those words, he would instantly lose stature in front of Song Qingyun.
This isn't something a person should do.
He originally didn't want to come, but his nephew forced him.
A man in his forties cried in front of him with tears and a runny nose. As an uncle, should he take responsibility or not?
Handling this matter is hardly something a cultured, respectable intellectual should do; if not handled, Jia Zuo might as well jump off a building.
Vice Dean Jia was caught in a dilemma.
