Ji Chengzhou looked at the man in the wheelchair, paralyzed on one side, his temples unknowingly threaded with a lot of white hair, and realized that the father whom he had once commanded and beaten at will had actually aged.
Gone was the lofty and awe-inspiring presence he used to have; perhaps this was the punishment from heaven for his wrongdoings.
Ji Chengzhou lowered his gaze in silence for a moment, then finally got up and handed over two tissues.
Ji Zhiyuan saw the tissues within his sight, wanted to look up at Ji Chengzhou, but his body wouldn't cooperate, and he couldn't lift his head at all, so he could only try to widen his eyes and roll his eyeballs upwards.
His son seemed cold but was actually very kind-hearted, stubbornly gentle, cold on the outside but warm inside, much like his mother, Song Mingzhi.
Song Mingzhi...
The woman he had hurt so deeply, he was the one who had wronged her.
And yet, in the end, it was her son who stayed by his side.
