The moment Cedrick realized he had been publicly exposed and was clearly in the wrong, he threw himself into my mother's arms and started crying loudly, like a spoiled child.
And my mother... actually cried along with him.
I pushed the door open.
A cloud of dust surged out, making me cough repeatedly.
The room looked like an unfinished construction site.
The walls were scarred with shovel marks, chunks of plaster peeling off. One of the windows was broken, cold air whistling in.
"Ahem... you're really impressive," I said helplessly, covering my mouth as I coughed.
My father finally saw the room clearly. His face darkened.
"Why hasn't this room been renovated yet?"
"I ordered it a long time ago."
"Dad, it's winter," Cedrick replied awkwardly under my father's gaze.
"No workers are willing to come."
I nearly laughed.
[Is he actually brainless, or just pretending?]
[Do renovation workers choose seasons now? Did he do it himself?]
[No. I have to contact the research institute today.]
[Staying in this dump any longer might actually lower my intelligence. That would be a loss to the country.]
My father was so furious that he immediately arranged for me to stay temporarily in the guest room.
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