At six o'clock in the evening, in the dining room of the Su family mansion, the light of the crystal chandelier shone on the mahogany dining table, reflecting a table of exquisite dishes. Every dish was delicious, delicious, and steaming, but there was an atmosphere above the table that was colder than the fog of late winter. When you breathe, you can't smell the aroma of the food, you can only feel an invisible pressure that makes it difficult to even chew.
Silence. Deathly silence.
Silence sat in the corner and slowly put a piece of fish into his mouth. He ate very methodically, as if this was not a dinner full of gunpowder, but a routine energy supply. There was no expression on his face. Three years, three whole years, he has become accustomed to this atmosphere, like a moss growing in a dark corner, numb to the cold and humid air.
Snap!
A crisp clang of porcelain cut through the suffocating silence.
Liu Meifen slammed the spoon into the bowl, and a few drops of the hot soup splashed out and landed on the tablecloth, leaving ugly stains. Her fifty-year-old face, thickly smeared with powder, was twisted with anger, like a canvas about to crack.
