A year older, the third master of Beijing circle kissed her to tears

Zhuang Zhoucheng really didn't expect that this girl was such a tough guy.

Wei Zhao waved his hand, signaling Sister Hong and the others to accompany the girl through the process.

After all, the gentleman is here. He called everyone here early in the morning, not to let Huo Yan seek justice, but to distance himself from him.

Maybe it's for himself, or maybe it's for Master Fearless.

After everyone left, Wei Zhao turned to Zhuang Zhoucheng.

"Sir, everyone has left. Then I..."

"Wei Zhao, how long have you been with me?"

Zhuang Zhoucheng's voice showed no emotion, but Wei Zhao's alarm bells suddenly rang. He stood up straight and said seriously:

"Sir, it's been eight years."

"You've been working with me for eight years. No wonder you've forgotten what kind of person I am."

Wei Zhao shuddered, "Sir, sir, this time I did presume to guess your feelings. In the past, I always handled such matters cleanly and would not bring them to your door to cause you any trouble. This time, I really did..."

Zhuang Zhoucheng said, and when he looked up, his eyes were sharp and cold:

"Do you think that after being with me for so long, you can make my decision?"

Wei Zhao immediately denied it. "No, no, that's not the case, sir. I just guessed that you treat Miss Huo differently. It's been a long time since you cared about a woman like this."

The people working at the club didn't know that Yegong was an entertainment venue wholly owned by Mr. Fu. However, as Mr. Fu's invisible asset, the club had never disclosed any information about the real boss behind the scenes, and everything was managed by Mr. Fu.

But the people in charge of the club are indeed some shrewd people. After Mr. Lu Jinghuai hosted a banquet for him last time, those people had already set their sights on him. In order to please him, they resorted to such means.

If it was another person who was sent here, Wei Zhao would not be so bold as to send someone to the master's bed.

Zhuang Zhoucheng chuckled, "Let's take care of this matter."

"Yes!"

Zhuang Zhoucheng warned again: "This will not happen again!"

Wei Zhao immediately responded loudly, "Yes!"

Wei Zhaoren left, but he was still confused. What exactly did the master mean to Huo Yan?

Zhuang Zhoucheng drove home. The trouble abroad was dealt with. Today was the weekend, and he had to accompany the old man to play two games of ball.

Zhuang Zhoucheng walked into the living room and saw a pile of books piled in the dining room aisle.

He frowned, walked over, picked up a book and flipped through it.

The servant happened to come over and said, "Sir, you are back. Do you want me to prepare breakfast for you?"

Zhuang Zhoucheng replied calmly, "Okay, by the way, what's the matter with these books?"

The servant said, "Oh, it was sent by Master Wuwei. He said it would be kept here temporarily for a few days. We don't know exactly how long it will be kept here, and we dare not move it. The master also meant to keep it here temporarily."

Zhuang Zhoucheng nodded slightly and signaled for his men to get busy.

In the book he opened, there was a registration form. The initiator was Huo Yan, but the form was currently blank, with only Huo Yan's signature.

It’s Huo Yan again.

Zhuang Zhoucheng looked at the pile of books with a very unhappy expression.

He closed the book and threw it on top of the pile.

Zhuang Zhoucheng walked into the tea room and found the old man there drinking tea and appreciating paintings.

"dad."

Zhuang Zhoucheng shouted and then sat next to his father.

The old man poured a cup of tea for Zhuang Zhoucheng, "This tea is fragrant today, you are in for a treat."

Zhuang Zhoucheng drank his tea and watched his father carefully put the painting away. He was puzzled:

"Dad, this painting is a fake, why are you still cherishing it so much?"

"Well, it doesn't matter whether this painting is a fake or not. What's important is what's in the painting." The old man sighed deeply.

He didn't care whether the painting was real or fake. What he cared about was the private seal that had disappeared for decades.

Zhuang Zhoucheng helped to roll up the scroll while carefully observing the painting.

It was just a very ordinary ink painting, but something in the painting had obsessed my father for so many years.

Suddenly, Zhuang Zhoucheng saw the poem on the painting, and the word "smoke" looked very familiar to him.

Isn't this the font of Huo Yan's signature?