Qin Haoran stared at his vibrating phone, his knuckles turning white around the casing.
“They called an emergency board meeting,” Qin Haoran gasped, his voice trembling with anger. “Qin Dalong brought mental health doctors. He told the board I went crazy and started eating garbage on East Wind Avenue! He is voting to hand twenty harbor warehouses to Song Zihao right now!”
Lin Mo took a sip of warm ginger tea from a paper cup Auntie Liu had handed him.
Rich families truly have no shame when it comes to stealing from their own blood, Lin Mo thought. Calling your nephew crazy just because he did four hours of honest manual labor. If sweeping leaves is a mental illness, ninety percent of our city workers should be institutionalized.
“Don’t panic,” Lin Mo said, pulling his phone from his coat. “Your grandfather has been awake for three hours.”
Lin Mo dialed Dr. Gu Qinghe at Taichu Hospital.
“Dr. Gu, how is the old commander?” Lin Mo asked.
Dr. Gu’s calm voice came through the speaker: “Chairman, the old general drank three bowls of Lotus-Vitality broth. He did fifty push-ups against the hospital bed rail and is currently yelling at the nurses to bring him his dress uniform.”
