Witte left with the doctor, and the moment the door closed, the person who had been lying quietly on the bed slowly opened his eyes.
Lu Jing got out of bed, lifting his feet. Due to the wounds on his body, every step was bone-piercing pain, but he had grown used to it, numbness having set in from the long periods of torment.
He walked into the bathroom naked, expressionless, and let out a cold laugh as he looked at his reflection in the mirror.
He remembered what Lu Yuan had said when sending him off to the plane, hoping he would stay abroad, at least not return within a year.
He must have said that because those old farts hiding in the old mansion had started their nagging again, almost like ghosts, not fully human, one foot in the grave and yet still clinging desperately to power, afraid of being devoured by it.
They should have died long ago.
