All of Arnold's resentment had flown right out the window the moment he saw Asher.

Asher said, "You must've been worn out over the past few days. You haven't eaten yet, right?"

He lifted the plastic bag in his hand, waving it in front of Arnold. "I remember you saying you don't eat carbs, but if you're feeling pressured or exhausted, you would reward yourself with some fried chicken. I bought fried chicken for you. I'm not sure which flavor you like, so I bought a few."

Arnold's throat bobbed, salivating with anticipation.

In the end, he still let the man in.

However, Arnold maintained a little of his pride and gave Asher a cold face, sitting on the chair indifferently as he tried hard not to look at the handsome man.

"As a doctor, saving lives is my duty. Even if it's not Chairman Thompson, I'll still do my best. You don't need to be so polite."

"Are you mad?" Ignoring his indifference, Asher asked softly instead.

Arnold's eyelashes fluttered. "Who... Who's mad?"

"If you're not mad, why are you crying?"

Arnold's heart was in knots, his face flushed, and he subconsciously glanced at the mirror on the wall.

his lips were tightly pursed, and

the fried chicken from the plastic bag and opened the boxes, placing them in

voice was

skipped a beat, and he met Asher's

down slowly in front of him. "It's just that my family is here, and my father is sick. I am the eldest son. I have to take care of my father, comfort my family, and still

He quickly grabbed a fried chicken and

he stared at him. "Eat more. You've lost

fine, but remember to bring ketchup next time. My favorite is

gnawed on a drumstick

up, his

satisfied

angle. "Oh, you're weet

guess you really like

"Yes." Asher nodded seriously.

it

suddenly leaned toward him, his pretty face magnifying in Asher's

glinted with charm, drawing Arnold in without his

knew this man

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