"But he's my own flesh and blood. I did so much for him, so why the hell is he angry and ignoring me? Does he even consider me his father?" Su Dachun's face went red with anger, and he took a fierce draw from his dry pipe, his ragged face filled with malice.
"Had I known he was an ungrateful wretch, I wouldn't have done so in the first place."
"What? You regret it?" Ma Xiulan rolled her eyes and scolded, "What do you have to regret? As far as I am concerned, as long as our son and granddaughter live a luxurious life—a life we couldn't even dream of—I think it's worth it. And stop talking like that now. The more you say it, the angrier you get."
All these years, it's far too late for regrets.
"What's there to regret for someone about to be buried in the yellow soil?" Su Dachun felt it wasn't worth it.
