Then he stretched out his hand, already full of wrinkles, and took Ji Chicheng's hand, walking toward the main entrance.
At this moment, the halo of a loving father enveloped the old man. The silhouettes of father and son appeared so harmonious.
In such a large family, it's just like the ancient emperor's harem; those favored will inevitably attract jealousy.
Ji Ruoqian, still fuming over being punished to write a hundred ancient poems, stared at the doorway. After Ji Chicheng and the patriarch left, she said with a sour tone, "Grandpa's favoritism is just unparalleled."
Lin Yanqin sneered, "Please, no matter how favored, he is still just the son born of a mistress. What great things can he really do?"
Otherwise, it would not be Ji Jingfeng's turn to be groomed as the heir.
She tilted her chin up slightly, her posture expressing disdain and contempt for Ji Chicheng, yet the undeniable hint of sourness in her voice betrayed the jealousy and resentment inside her.
