"Old man, I know you miss me. You don't have to make it obvious," Shengli said with a smile, interlocking his arm with Mrs. Fu and looking at Mr. Fu provocatively.
Ignoring Shengli, Mr. Fu turned to his wife. "Honey, I'm back," he said, looking at her almost pleadingly.
"So what should she do about it, old man?" Shengli smirked.
"You—"
Mr. Fu was about to argue back when the loud bang of a door shutting echoed through the house, followed by the sharp click of the lock.
Zixuan had locked himself in his room.
Mrs. Fu glanced at Haoran, who was still seated, her expression apologetic. "I'm really sorry for my son's behavior. You can go home for now. Come tomorrow to pick him up—he'll be ready by then."
Haoran gave a small nod and stood, but not before casting one last glance toward Zixuan's door, his gaze lingering briefly on Shengli before turning toward the exit.
