Pullman, Redwood Wind.
The wind blew at night, gently rocking the ship and the red wine in the glass.
"Why is there no moonlight?"
Su Qinghou lay on the chair, gazing at the sky above the sea, wanting to blow it up.
The atmosphere was particularly oppressive. King and Kun beside him could feel it too; their master was in a bad mood, and it looked like someone was going to suffer.
Kneeling on the deck was a man, the pirate leader of Redwood Wind, Old Man.
"Young Master Zhi, please spare my life."
Old Man was shivering, begging for mercy.
Su Qinghou, dressed in a black shirt without a tie and the top two buttons undone, revealing a glimpse of collarbone—formal yet casual—glanced at the person on the ground and set his wine glass down, "Well then, call me 'Dad'."
Old Man would have called him 'Grandpa' or 'Ancestor'—anything would do.
Old Man, sweating profusely, shakily called out, "Dad."
Still no moonlight, annoying.
