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... t the productive quiet of concentration.
The other kind — the one that settled after irritation had nowhere left to go.
Han Yusheng stood near the window with his back turned, hands clasped behind him, staring down at the traffic far below. His jacket was still on. He hadn’t sat since returning from his last meeting.
Behind him, his son finally broke.
"He did it again."
The words came clipped, controlled — which only meant Han Ming was holding himself toge ...
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