Chapter 201 The Ruthless Patriarch 10 (1/2)

"What?! How dare you say such a thing to me!"

Zhao Dehai's angry roar rang out again.

"I'm informing you one last time that once you reach the legal age for supporting your parents, I will regularly pay you your retirement expenses according to the minimum standards stipulated by law. This is my obligation to repay the debt of gratitude I owe you for giving me life."

"Besides, birth, old age, sickness, death, marriage, funerals, wealth, poverty, and nobility are all irrelevant to you. The kinship between us is now severed."

Zi Xi remained unmoved and firmly informed them that this was the last time.

After saying that, without waiting for Zhao Dehai's furious roar, Wang Lijuan's feigned exclamation, or Zhao Yaqian's fake crying on the other end of the phone, Zi Xi decisively pressed the red hang-up button.

The world became quiet instantly.

She tossed her phone onto the fluffy blanket, the screen went dark, and only her soft breathing could be heard in the room.

Pei Mozhi's knuckles had long since stopped tapping. He stared intently at the overly calm face on the screen, a surge of pleasure welling up in his chest.

So cute!

The transnational conference was long and tedious, and the atmosphere in the huge conference room on the top floor was somber.

Complex financial data and market analysis charts scrolled across a huge projection screen, and several department heads took turns standing up to report.

Pei Mozhi sat in the main seat, his slender fingers unconsciously twirling an expensive platinum fountain pen.

A powerful aura enveloped the entire conference room, and everyone was on edge.

However, no one knew that this all-powerful Yama was currently experiencing a bizarre split in his mind.

It was as if a small window had opened deep within my consciousness, uncontrollably looping clips from the surveillance footage.

The still blanket, a few wisps of hair sticking up, and her back as she drifted towards the clinic like a sleepwalker.

The marketing director's powerful voice rang in my ears.

Is she hungry?

How about I bring her a late-night snack when I get back?

Tsk, should I bring her barbecue, or some other snacks?

The information states that she likes to eat spicy hot pot.

Pei Mozhi's inner monologue is also in progress.

The operations manager was pointing at the flowchart on the screen and talking animatedly.

Let the kitchen prepare a nourishing soup for her.

But will she eat late-night snacks?

Why don't you send it to WeChat and ask?

Wait a minute... he doesn't seem to have Zhao Zixi's WeChat.

Pei Mozhi's mind was flooded with comments.

"Master, what do you think of this plan..."

A supervisor carefully handed over the documents.

Pei Mozhi accepted the document expressionlessly, his gaze sweeping over it while his mind processed it simultaneously.

The project exceeded its budget.

She seems to have eaten some meat and eggs last night.

He insisted on adding Zhao Zixi on WeChat when he got home.

This state of mental instability continued until the meeting finally ended.

Everyone felt as if they had been granted a pardon and quickly packed their things and left the conference room, leaving Pei Mozhi alone sitting in the empty main seat.

Pei Mozhi rubbed his throbbing temples, feeling that the exhaustion from dealing with these trivial business matters was nothing compared to the agonizing thought in his mind about whether that salted fish would think eating late-night snacks was bad.

He took out his phone again, almost casually opening the monitoring app.

In the scene, Zi Xi's bedroom curtains were half-drawn, and moonlight shone on her through the French windows.

She wasn't in bed, but sitting cross-legged in the huge beanbag sofa in front of the French windows.

It was wrapped in a thick, fluffy, milky-white blanket, like a giant silkworm, with only its fluffy head showing.

A tablet computer was propped up in front of her, its screen lit up, the light reflecting off her face.

She watched it... with great concentration.

On the left is a tray with an empty milk cup and half a croissant that looks very soft.