Seeing that Chen Yi's father had struck him over a dozen times with no intention of stopping, his mother panicked and stepped forward to shield Chen Yi behind her.
"Enough already, the child is grown up; do you really need to beat him like he's still a little boy?"
Chen Yi's father, too, was tired from the beating, leaning on the teaching stick and gasping for air, his eyes brimming with anger, disappointment, and a sentiment akin to hating iron for not becoming steel.
"You get a little respect from others, they call you a writer, and you're so full of yourself that you neglect your wife and family for an affair, you think you're something, huh? Do you really believe you'll earn the reputation of a charming scholar?"
Chen Yi hung his head, "I never thought that."