Sweet and sweet! Mr. Bo is paranoid and hard to control.

Chapter 364 Ying'er
After Uncle Ma finished speaking, he looked around and when he didn't see Meng Sihan, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief.

The driver is also a smart man, how could he not see the changes in the other person's expression.

"Mr. Meng left early for something, and he asked me to deliver something to Mr. Meng." The driver handed over the box in his hand in panic.

Uncle Ma saw that the other party's eyes were evasive when he spoke, and he probably guessed something. Uncle Ma walked forward a few steps and looked in the direction of the street. He only saw some pedestrians in a hurry. He sighed and took the box from the other party. "Master, you are thoughtful. I will definitely tell you, Mr."

"Thank you, Uncle Ma." said the driver respectfully.

"You're welcome."

The driver quickly backed off.

Uncle Ma looked at the place where the driver disappeared and was stunned for a long time. Then he turned around and walked into the house, locking the door.

Although the box looks delicate, Uncle Ma feels it is heavy.

After all, what is contained here is a son’s deep love for his father!

After walking through the hall, Uncle Ma came to a pavilion in the backyard. Although it was winter and the temperature outside was freezing, the person painting in the pavilion seemed not to feel the cold at all. Holding a brush in his hand, he was immersed in his own world, unable to extricate himself.

Uncle Ma was standing in the corridor and saw the other person staring at the painting on the stone table with an obsessed look on his face. He stood there in a daze and did not go forward to disturb him.

Perhaps, for Mr. Li, the moment he saw the person in the painting, time seemed to have stopped, and everything around him had nothing to do with him anymore.

Uncle Ma stood there for a while and felt gusts of cold wind penetrating into his body through his sleeves. After a while, goose bumps appeared all over his body.

Considering the other person's physical condition, Uncle Ma slowly walked forward and stood outside the pavilion.

"Sir." Uncle Ma's voice was not loud, he knew the other party could hear him.

The person in the pavilion was shocked, and in an instant, a drop of black ink from the brush in his hand fell on the painting, slowly spreading out and just enough to cover up the stunningly beautiful face of the woman in the painting.

There was a cold look in Meng Heming's eyes. He put down the brush, carefully picked up a corner of the paper, and held it in front of him.

He looked around with a leisurely gaze, and it was unclear whether he was talking to himself or to Uncle Ma behind him.

"How many years have passed? The more I paint Ying'er, the worse I get. If she sees this painting, she will tear it to pieces given her personality." The man uttered softly, seeming helpless and sad.

Uncle Ma looked up and did not agree with the other person. He looked at the other person's lonely back and felt a little bitter in his heart.

However, there are some things that someone has to remind the other person.

Uncle Ma said hoarsely, "Sir, the young master just passed by and gave you a gift."

Meng Heming gently placed the painting back on the stone table and moved his eyes away from the ink. He turned around, wearing a black Chinese gown that made him look gentle and elegant, and took away some of his strong aura.

"Put it in my study."

"Don't you want to take a look now?" Uncle Ma stepped forward, raised the box in his hand, and a hint of expectation appeared on his face.

Rather than dwelling on the past all day long, Uncle Ma hopes that the other person can cherish the present and live a good life.

Uncle Ma saw how the gentleman had survived all these years, and naturally did not want him to live the same way for the rest of his life.

"No need." A hint of sadness flashed across Meng Heming's tough face.

Uncle Ma wanted to persuade him, but when he saw the solemn look on the other party's face, he swallowed the words back into his stomach.

Beside the road, a black Maybach was parked on the side. In the back seat, a man was puffing away, and the cigarette in his hand had already burned out.

The driver hurriedly came to the car, fastened his seat belt, and turned around, "Mr. Meng, the things have been handed over to Uncle Ma."

"Uh."

Meng Sihan raised his eyebrows and his eyes fell on the towering archway not far away. On it were several large characters written in a flamboyant style. He was very familiar with the vigorous and powerful font. After all, when he was a child, he liked to imitate someone's handwriting the most.

People said that his father had profound attainments in calligraphy and painting. When he first heard the praise from others, he appeared calm and indifferent, but he was very proud in his heart.

He secretly found someone's calligraphy and began to imitate it.
In the end, his handwriting was about 70% similar to the original.

At that time, he proudly held up his own handwriting in front of someone, but the other person only glanced at him briefly, and no one said a word.

After that, he was depressed for a long time and even refused to imitate someone's handwriting.

However, once a writing style is formed, it is not so easy to change. To this day, his handwriting still bears the shadow of someone else.

"Go to 'Yemei'." Meng Sihan said.

In his feeling of loss, a serene and beautiful face suddenly appeared in his mind. Although he had only met her a few times, he felt a different emotion from her. She was like the warm sun in winter, which gave his long-frozen heart a moment of warmth.

The driver looked at the white light outside and reminded, "Mr. Meng, it's not business hours yet."

Meng Sihan turned his head to glance out the car window and looked at the dazzling white light, which he found so dazzling.

"Go back to the company." Meng Sihan said resolutely.

"Okay." The driver nodded, quickly started the car, and drove on the busy road.

It was almost 4:30 in the afternoon, rush hour, and it took quite a long time to travel a short distance.

"buzzing"

A sudden voice sounded in the quiet car.

Meng Sihan picked up his phone and glanced at it casually. After seeing a string of numbers, he simply clicked the mute button.

Although he didn't have the other party's phone number saved, he knew who was calling.

Zeng Yun.

Meng Sihan had been dealing with her all this time. After learning that she owned the jade pendant, Meng Sihan wanted to inquire about it. He negotiated with the other party in a perfunctory manner for a while, but got nothing. Zeng Yun knew nothing about the value of the jade. Meng Sihan only needed cash to buy the jade pendant. She did not show any reluctance throughout the process. Instead, she laughed so hard when she saw the bank card.

Now that the jade pendant was in hand, Meng Sihan didn't want to have too much involvement with the other party, so he directly blacklisted the other party's number, and his expression eased a little.

His cold eyes looked out of the car window blankly.

That piece of jade should have been in someone's hands! I wonder if that person will read it. Thinking of this, a hint of frustration flashed across his eyes.

Meng Sihan was wearing a grey suit, his eyes were as deep and mysterious as the azure blue sea, and he exuded a vague sense of loneliness in his bones.

The driver looked straight ahead and could vaguely feel a chill coming from his back. He instantly woke up and gripped the steering wheel tightly, not daring to move.