Duan Feihan looked in the direction of the voice with a respectful tone, "Father, you're up so early?"
Ever since the old master Duan retired and fell seriously ill, barely escaping death, he had started getting up later, typically around eight o'clock.
And yet it was just past six.
Leaning on his cane, the old master Duan looked at Duan Feihan with a complicated expression, "Feihan, there are some matters I hope you will consider carefully."
Recently, the old master Duan had been feeling very uneasy, with certain things echoing in his mind.
The eldest son was a disappointment, his heart now far from Xingye, and his household was on the verge of falling apart.
The third son, Duan Xiuqi, had not become a monk, and now his whereabouts were unknown.
Now the fourth son was about to cause some trouble.
It seemed that only his daughter settled in Europe gave him some peace of mind.
The fourth child was meant for great things, and that made him all the more uneasy.