I Think You're Trying to Ruin Your Reputation

When Cynthia returned to her bedroom, Old Mr. Quinn had already gotten up and walked over to the window.

"Grandfather, why did you get up?" Cynthia walked in, quickly placing her things on the table, and draped a thin shirt over Old Mr. Quinn's shoulders. "You're just feeling better—what if you catch a chill?"

Old Mr. Quinn looked at Cynthia's face, which closely resembled Gianna Quinn's, with an unusual warmth in his eyes.

He patted Cynthia's hand, then slowly turned and walked toward the small tea table.

The two of them ate in silence. Old Mr. Quinn stirred his millet pumpkin porridge slowly with a spoon, his sharp eyes occasionally glancing at Cynthia. After pondering for a while, he finally spoke, "Cynthia, how did your uncle get out this time?"

Cynthia's chewing slowed down slightly, and she lowered her eyes, hiding the emotions in her gaze. "Naturally, the investigation team cleared things up."

Upon hearing this, Old Mr. Quinn raised an eyebrow.