Chen Biao went back home, the more he thought about it, the more unsettled he felt. A few tables of celebratory wine had already been set up at home, but he didn't manage to marry the bride, nor claim the child. Though he'd recovered the gambling debt, he'd wasted the money on the wine. Not only that—he still felt as though he'd been played. He, of all people, had been toyed with by a group of women.
Seeing Tian Sangsang's son today made him restless—he desperately wanted a son.
Zhao Chun was wiping the table with a cloth, sneaking glances back at Chen Biao while stifling continuous laughter. Watching Brother Biao suffer a loss today was deeply satisfying. But for him, wasn't this also an opportunity?
The tablecloth was greasy, and Zhao Chun suppressed the urge to gag. He positioned himself to the side, lowering his gaze obediently. "Brother Biao, what's troubling you?"
