"Smoke less, you still had nodules in your lungs during your last check-up." Song Xianying snatched the cigarette from Lu Shengming's hand and stubbed it out in the ashtray. "If you don't take care of your health, don't blame me when you're lying in a hospital bed."
"Sigh." Lu Shengming sighed, "What's the point of living so long if I can't even smoke freely."
Song Xianying glanced at him, said nothing, and sat down on the sofa nearby, scrolling through her phone.
"By the way, you mentioned your brother is setting up a factory. How's that going now?" Lu Shengming suddenly turned and asked, "No issues with the paperwork or anything, right?"
Song Xianying didn't look up at him and replied directly, "I suppose not, but even if there are, he wouldn't tell me. Didn't you say we should reduce our contact—preferably have no contact at all? He's not oblivious; he must understand what you meant."
