Mentioning his wife, Lin Qingya, Han Yu's originally agitated emotions had calmed down a bit.
He loosened his hold on Old Mr. Lin's shoulders, gave a bitter smile, and said, "Elder Lin, I'm sorry, I was rash just now."
"For over twenty years, I've lived with the identity of an orphan. Growing up, I could only watch as my classmates and friends were picked up by their parents, while I was always alone."
"When I was a child, my biggest wish was to be like the other kids, to meet my parents, eat meals with them, play with them in malls, and just stay at home together, even if we did nothing, it would have been good."
"Do you understand what I mean?"
Upon hearing Han Yu's words, Old Mr. Lin's lips moved slightly. He lifted his head, his eyes shimmering with tears, "I understand, I understand all of it."
"Child, you have truly suffered over these years..."
As he spoke, he gently patted Han Yu's back—his sympathy was not feigned but came from the bottom of his heart.