"Stop right there!" Jin Zhuoming stood with his hands on his hips, his face as livid as a pig's liver, his breath so unsteady that even his voice began to tremble.
"I really didn't lie." Jin Yunzhi shrank behind the sofa, looking pitiful and helpless.
He pointed at the slipper in the other's hand, "Put that down first."
Three minutes later, the father and son sat back down on the sofa.
After the housekeeper finished cleaning up the broken pieces scattered all over, Jin Zhuoming picked up a new coffee cup again.
"Who told you this?" He took a sip of coffee—unsweetened and uncreamed—hoping the bitterness in his mouth would help calm him down.
"Xu Linchuan." Perhaps sensing it wasn't convincing enough, Jin Yunzhi paused for two seconds and added, "Brother Wei and Brother Fan know too."
The boy curled his legs up on the sofa, resting his chin on Little Strawberry, and earnestly recounted everything he overheard today.
