The temperaments of the two were like tepid water, yet in this moment, one boiled and bubbled while the other hardened into ice. Flaming hot and freezing cold intertwined, colliding intensely.
"Why didn't you tell me, Wen, Jing, Ru!"
"He's already eight years old, yet you could ruthlessly conceal this from me for eight years. No, even counting the year you spent pregnant, it's a whole nine years! Wen, Jing, Ru, I truly doubt if your heart is made of stone! How could you cruelly deny me the experience of being a father for those eight years!"
"Do you have any idea how it feels? Looking at that eight-year-old child, the striking resemblance he bears to the worn-out photo of me hung on our family wall, and yet he prefers to call Shaocheng 'Dad' and not once has called me 'father'! He is my son! He's mine!"
