Shang Shaojing furrowed his brow and fished out two banknotes from his pocket, tossing them to the taxi driver.
"Keep the change."
The driver didn't catch them and had to bend over to pick them up from the driver's side, cursing under his breath, "What kind of manners are these, acting like some young master, all high and mighty in a taxi. If you're so capable, why don't you drive yourself!"
Shang Shaojing ignored him and walked into the police station alone.
Half an hour later, he saw his father.
Shang Zhenhe had aged a lot. Overnight, his temples had unexpectedly turned quite gray, giving him an appearance of someone in his twilight years.
Seeing this, it was hard for Shang Shaojing not to feel distressed.
"Dad, how did it end up like this?"
Shang Zhenhe started to sob and sniffle as he complained to him, and with Shang Shaojing already harboring fire in his heart, he grew even more agitated at this moment.
