Western Imperial City Roots, Courtyard No.77.
The Jiang and Song families glanced at the man standing by the window, on the phone, his back turned, emotionless.
The call was the second since he began discussing business, and he was clearly impatient.
He spoke indifferently, "Start with the injection, I don't have time yet."
The person on the other end cautiously agreed.
After hanging up, Xu Jingxi turned his head and resumed his seat in silence, picking up the teacup. The white tea in the cup had long since gone cold.
Song Zhengqing personally brewed him a fresh cup and asked, "Is something bothering you? We can meet tomorrow instead if you're busy; we can head back first."
Xu Jingxi didn't make a sound, picked up the white glazed jade teacup, skimmed off the bubbles with the lid, and sipped the newly brewed white tea, expressionless.
But Song Zhengqing saw that his thoughts seemed to drift off into the dim night outside the window.