Han Bing finished a bowl of porridge, put down the spoon, wiped his mouth, and said calmly, "What do you want to tell me?" After all, he was his son. How could he not notice Han Luofan's hesitation?
Han Luofan took a deep breath.
He knew that the question he was about to ask might doom him, but he still asked.
Han Luofan asked Han Bing, "She's not my mother, right?"
Upon hearing this, the other two people in the room fell silent at the same time.
Han Bing looked up at Han Luofan with consideration in his eyes. Cai Jie also put down her chopsticks and bit her lower lip, her eyes red.
What else did Han Luofan not understand?
He tried to raise his head.
Looking up at the sky at a 45-degree angle could stop tears from falling. Although these words were pretentious, they were indeed useful. Han Luofan sniffed deeply and suppressed the impulse to cry from being wronged. His Adam's apple rolled before he asked, "Who is my mother?"
