Hours after the incident in the north market, Wu Jian sat in his father’s reception hall alongside Wu Meiying and Hou Jingshu. Mother and Wu Taohua were also there, as was Elder Jinsu.
A stifling silence filled the air. Wu Jian could only silently bear the pressure. It felt like something was pushing down on his shoulders, like he was being drown in water.
He had been made to sit like this for several minutes now, and the mounting silence only served to further his anxiety about what his father would do.
This silence is killing me.
Father sat on this throne-like chair, while Mother and Wu Taohua stood behind and to either side of him. Elder Jinsu was off to the side. He sat with his feet tucked underneath his bottom, back straight, and hands resting on his thighs as he watched the proceedings.
Father was staring at Wu Jian with a stern frown. This was not new, but somehow, it felt like his frown was even more prominent than normal.