The words had no expression, no emotion—just the cold, hard sound of a machine playing a prerecorded standard voice, assembled from simple characters to meet human needs.
Gong Beiyao snapped back to reality, remembering he had to converse with this "machine" to proceed, so he finally spoke up.
"I don't have the energy to readjust to more special caretakers. You can tell me if you need anything in the future; anything that money can solve is no problem."
"No, I don't have any requests. The fact that you haven't fired me is already more than I could expect," Sheng Qianxia typed on her phone, letting the software read each word out loud. "I didn't know that room was so important to you..."
"What's so important about a room?" Gong Beiyao demanded.
What mattered was the person who had once lived in that room.
Because they could only lose that person forever, they wanted to hold onto everything else.
They knew that even if everything stayed the same, they were no longer the same.
