"Grandpa, I've found Ranran."
Just one sentence plunged Jun Lao into silence.
He still remembered the desolation of Jun Mochan, covered in blood as he returned two years ago, like a man gradually withering with age.
It frightened him to see.
Then, as if heartless, he was left with nothing but a body, living as though he were a walking corpse.
Yet he never uttered a word of sorrow; his expression remained the same as always, but his eyes no longer held any sign of life or brightness.
The pitch-black pupils were like two vast voids; at a glance, they seemed filled with luster, but upon closer inspection, they were utterly empty.
Everyone knew why, but no one could persuade him otherwise.
And he knew what kind of life Mo Han had lived these past two years.
If it weren't for the child, he truly feared he wouldn't be able to go on.
"Are you sure?" He feared getting his hopes up for nothing, better not to hope than to feel disappointment.
