Ye Mingqiu's hand trembled slightly, and suddenly he thought of an image.
The Bloodthirsty Butcher went berserk during an experiment, madly destroying everything, tearing up a photo of his daughter. Yet, in his monstrous state, he still retained part of his paternal will, forcibly piecing the photo together and writing a line of words in a crooked, scrawled handwriting.
Could it be like this?
Perhaps, his handwriting in his notes is always neat. In normal circumstances, he would never produce such twisted writing... he was a worthy adversary.
My family... ha...
Ye Mingqiu felt slightly lost, but he quickly digested this emotion. After all these years, he had long grown used to being alone.
After tidying up the spoils of war, he left.
...
The following morning, at the cafe
Ye Mingqiu entered the cafe, bringing with him the fresh post-rain air; he waved to the manager with a smile and said, "Good afternoon, manager, today I've come bringing money."
"Welcome,"
