"Uncle Qiao."
Ling Xi descended the stairs at a leisurely pace and sat down opposite the old man, softly calling out with a clear and cold voice that still managed to be polite.
Soon, a servant brought over Ling Xi's breakfast. She quietly expressed her thanks and then began to eat quietly and casually, as if indifferent to the old man's disregard for her.
When Ling Xi addressed him, the old man merely gave her a cursory glance and said nothing. In his gaze, Ling Xi could not detect the slightest hint of emotion.
The old man did not like Ling Xi. He did not like the Ling Xi of the past, and he liked the current one even less; if it were not for her, how would his young master have ended up like this? Whenever her affairs arose, he would lose his usual composure and manners.
After breakfast, the old man stood up and headed upstairs without looking back.
