His voice was drowned out in the dense, pounding rain.
No matter how he called out, the figure of the Marquis of Xuanping disappeared into the curtain of rain.
Xiao Hen's strength was finally drained at this moment. He collapsed and sat down in a puddle by the side of the Official Road, the downpour mercilessly beating against his back.
He clutched the roadside stones tightly.
The rain was ice cold, but when it fell into his eyes and flowed out, it became scalding hot.
He ultimately failed to stop him.
He had still left.
It turns out that there are some people, some things, once missed, truly never present another opportunity.
It was never that he hadn't cherished his son properly; rather, this son had not cherished that father.
He no longer had the chance... to call him "father" anymore.
"What did you just call me?"
A familiar voice suddenly rang out above him. Xiao Hen shuddered, thinking he had heard wrong, but he still blankly looked up.
