The elderly man in the wheelchair looked very haggard, with one hand hidden under the blanket, unable to conceal the pathological trembling.
He Huatang had been suffering from a stroke for many years and hadn't cared about worldly matters for a long time. If it weren't for Rong Manli and Ah Qing disappearing one after the other, he wouldn't have dragged his sickly body out to take charge.
The impression between He Chen and He Huatang was essentially nonexistent.
Since childhood, he knew that this father saw him as a burden.
Even his birth brought disgrace to He Huatang, who implicitly allowed the family to bully and insult He Chen.
The night was thick, with a crescent moon hanging high in the sky.
The gazes of He Chen and He Huatang collided in the air through the silhouettes of several figures; the father and son hadn't seen each other for a long time, and there was an air of alienation and indifference in their eyes.
