At this thought, Zhao Zhiteng said no more.
"Zhao Zhiteng, don't tell me you intend to speak up for Chen Ping'an?" Cao Yingxiong's gaze, heavy with pressure, fell upon him.
"My Lord, I wouldn't dare!" Cao Yingxiong's words sent a chill down Zhao Zhiteng's spine, and he quickly dropped to his knees. "I was merely analyzing the pros and cons, weighing the gains and losses. I have no such intention."
"Since you don't, then just do as I say. Get up," Cao Yingxiong said flatly.
"Yes! Thank you, My Lord." Zhao Zhiteng rose to his feet, picked up his brush, and resumed writing.
Seeing Zhao Zhiteng writing obediently, a look of satisfaction appeared on Cao Yingxiong's face. 'Confidants,' he thought, 'must be tempered through repeated beatings to grow. Only by testing them again and again can you discover just how much they are willing to do for you.'
