Huo Qin lowered his eyelids slightly, quickly scanning the compiled written documents without even lifting his eyes: "Deadline."

Lin Cheng: "At the latest, three days."

After he finished speaking, he noticed that President Huo's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he knew that President Huo was not satisfied with the duration.

In the end, Huo Qin didn't say much, just gave a curt "hmm," which was a reluctant acceptance.

Click—

The door to Chaochao's room was gently closed.

This was the third time tonight that Grandpa Huo had sneaked into the room to check on the sleeping little dumpling.

The night was as dark as ink, but the villa's lobby was as bright as day.

Old Master Huo sat upright on the sofa, his hands clasped together on his dragon-head cane. His thick eyebrows and eagle eyes exuded an imposing aura, and he stared coldly into the void.

The servants on duty around the perimeter stood silently, holding their breath and barely breathing.

The old man has barely been able to eat these past two days.

Yesterday was fury, today is fear.

Although the whole story was clear and those people would have to pay the price, he had only just left Chaochao's room when the soft tranquility brought by his beloved granddaughter's adorable sleeping face gradually faded, and the rekindled anger burned in his chest again.

When the public outcry first broke out, some comments said that Chaochao came from a "fake wealthy family" or was just a nouveau riche second generation. Even some people from small families came to compare and criticize him, which made the old man at home furious.

Mr. Huo was born into a wealthy family, and after inheriting the family business, he continued to expand it, but he never liked to be high-profile or ostentatious.

But when someone, with their eyes wide open, criticizes his beloved granddaughter, Mr. Huo immediately wants to put all the rare jewels, diamond crowns, and other most precious things in the world that he bought for Chaochao to play with on her.

At that moment, Aunt Song chimed in, "But sir, doesn't this just make us look more like nouveau riche?"

He managed to suppress the old man's impulse once again.

The living room was completely silent.

Thump...thump.

The only sound was the gentle tapping of the cane against the floor tiles.

Old Master Huo was deep in thought, his face solemn.

It's actually better that Chaochao is too young to read...

But what about when they grow up?

After a moment, Old Master Huo slowly exhaled, his eyes clear and sharp as his relaxed eyelids opened and closed. The old man turned and went upstairs with his cane, knocking on the door of his study.

—Then let's do it ahead of schedule.