Mo Jian looked at Qiu Yan's father without the slightest change in his expression.
Seated across from him, Qiu An was stunned by the calm and indifferent demeanor of the young man before him.
Qiu Yan, however, was not surprised in the least.
This was Mo Jian.
She had warned her father not to use an authoritative tone with him, but the old man had brushed off her advice.
Now she sat back, her face betraying no emotion, as she silently waited to see how the situation would unfold.
Under Mo Jian's aloof gaze, Qiu An found himself momentarily lost for words.
His daughter's warnings returned to his mind, but at the time, he had dismissed them.
He knew she had been keeping many secrets from him, but he did not think anything of it.
But now, faced with this boy's unshakable composure, an irritation stir within his heart.
His brows knitted together.
"Are you going to speak or not?" Qiu An demanded, his tone sharp.
