Wind Is Rising, Storm Is Coming

Cynthia lowered her eyelids and said lightly, "Grandpa is truly amazing."

"It's clearly because your heart isn't here." Old Mr. Quinn sighed faintly, his deep and resonant voice carrying a meaningful undertone.

Cynthia's eyes flickered slightly, and she pursed her lips without saying anything.

Old Mr. Quinn smiled, "Since you have something to attend to, there's no need to force yourself to stay here with me."

"Then I'll leave first," Cynthia said.

Old Mr. Quinn waved his hand and picked up the tea cup in his hand. He sat on the stone bench in the pavilion, watching Cynthia's retreating figure. The smile on his lips gradually faded.

"Old master, you have softened your heart after all," Robb said.

Old Mr. Quinn, looking at him, sighed helplessly, "How can I not be soft-hearted towards her?"

After all, watching her grow up since childhood, whether it was her character or temperament, Cynthia resembled her mother, Gianna Quinn, too much. How could he be as ruthless as he seemed?