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An Yibei rushed to the hospital as soon as he finished work.

Pushing the door open, he saw a quivering lump under the duvet.

He had been able to keep his mind calm, until he saw this scene.

Walking up to the bed, he lifted the duvet. A red-eyed An Xiaxia looked up at him. She had huddled up in a ball, looking as fragile as an abandoned baby.

“You big baby! Stop crying! Your tears won’t bring those people back!” An Yibei’s voice was cold as ice.

An Xiaxia asked in a nasal voice, “Have they found... Kang Jian’s body?”

An Yibei sighed. “No...”

“So, there’s a chance that he’s still alive?” An Xiaxia’s face lit up.

An Yibei couldn’t bring himself to refute her and nodded.

That chance was very slim.

“Wen Qing’s and He Dongyang’s families have been taken care of. Their ashes have been brought back and their families will get compensation from the news agency, the government, and the insurance company. At least they won’t be troubled financially in the future,” An Yibei said indifferently, detaching himself emotionally.

An Xiaxia was saddened by those words. After all, those two people had been colleagues she interacted with on a daily basis and she still had a hard time accepting it.

“Mr. Song... was here today.” An Xiaxia calmed herself down a little and told An Yibei.

An Yibei clenched his fists and lowered his tone. “What was he doing here?”

“He said he wanted to take me back home.” An Xiaxia wrung her hands together. “Brother, he’s my biological father, but you knew that already, didn’t you?”

The look on An Yibei’s turned a little grim. “Hm? Are you blaming me now?”

“I’m not!” An Xiaxia smiled bitterly. “It just feels so ironic...”

“Do you want to go with him?” asked An Yibei.

He had been running away from that question for years, but he had to face it now.

He wasn’t sure what Mr. Song really thought of An Xiaxia.

If he loved her, why did he drive her mother mad and let her rot in that place?

If he didn’t care for her, his concern for her seemed to say otherwise.

Moreover, rich families had their own internal strife. Letting An Xiaxia go back in a rush would only do her harm.

“I hate him,” An Xiaxia said through gritted teeth.

An Yibei frowned. “Xiaxia, control yourself! Forget about revenge. He’s still your father, after all!”

An Xiaxia kept her silence. An Yibei didn’t know what to say, but still found it disturbing.

Hopefully An Xiaxia wouldn’t do anything irrational.

A few days later, An Xiaxia was summoned to the news agency by her manager.

On her way in, she was told that the agency had been taken over by a large group and the manager was probably going to be replaced. He was looking for an excuse to give vent to his frustration and that was very likely why An Xiaxia was here.

As soon as she set foot inside, the assistant hurried in. “The new president is here!”

The manager looked like he had just swallowed a fly and he stood up to greet the new boss.

A tall man walked in unhurriedly, surrounded by a dozen others.

The first thing the manager noticed was the man’s shiny black leather shoes. Moving up, he saw a pair of long legs, a white shirt, and a black suit. An outfit as simple as that somehow looked remarkable on him.

“Mr. Sheng... Nice to meet you. May I help you with anything?” The manager smiled obsequiously. He then waved at An Xiaxia. “Why are you still standing here? Go get Mr. Sheng something to drink.”

Speechless, An Xiaxia went to fetch two cups of coffee from the tea room. The moment she walked back in, she heard the manager speaking ill of her behind her back. “It was all An Xiaxia’s fault! Nothing would have happened if it weren’t for her! Sigh... we’ve lost two excellent reporters. Mr. Sheng, I suggest that we should fire An Xiaxia!”