"You go out, give me some time alone," the old man dismissed the butler and leaned in his chair for a long time, struggling to suppress the pain in his heart.
His carefully nurtured child had abandoned him.
The little girl he had held by the hand, teaching her to write stroke by stroke, had flown from the nest to start her own family.
She no longer needed the Song Family's roof to shelter her from the storms.
On the bookshelf directly opposite the study desk hung a family portrait. In the photo, every member of the Song Family was present, all wearing smiles that suggested a harmonious and happy family atmosphere.
If the old man had looked at it at any other time, he might have felt content.
But today, it felt like everyone in the photo was forcing a smile.
Pretending to be happy.
Especially Jiang Muwan.
The old man looked down, wiping his eyes with his wrinkled hand.