And true to Su Meilin's words, the moment Zhao Yiming turned her phone back on, it began to vibrate violently in his hand—an instant barrage of missed calls and unread messages flooding the screen.
But one name stood out, flashing ominously across the display:
"Su Jinhe (Father)."
"Tch." Zhao Yiming narrowed his eyes.
"Yiming..." Meilin hesitated beside him, her voice low and gentle, almost pleading.
"Don't be too rude or too harsh, alright? He'll just explode even more if you push him. Things will get... messier."
He glanced at her, giving a faint, reassuring smile.
"It depends on how he reacts."
And with that, he pressed the green button and brought the phone to his ear.
Before he could even say a single word, the man already barked loud, Su Meilin could heard it even without a speaker as she flinched.
"YOU STUPID WORTHLESS BRAT! HOW DARE YOU BLOCK MY CALLS?! YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME NOW JUST BECAUSE SOME RICH MAN IS LETTING YOU SLEEP ON HIS COUCH?!"
