When Yang Ping pushed open the door, Erbao was already asleep. Dabao was lying on the carpet, his ear pressed to the tiles in the living room as if he were listening to something. Hearing the door, he raised his head; there was a gray streak on his face, no telling whether it was dirt or marker. Seeing it was Yang Ping, he immediately scrambled up from the floor, ran over and wrapped his arms around Yang Ping's leg, tilted his face up and asked, "Dad, you said you'd come back when the meeting was over. Is it over?"
"It's over."
"Then that meeting of yours, was it hard?"
"Not hard."
"Then why did Mom say you talked for a long time? What did you talk about?"
