"Xiaoshuang, this is our father. Quick, call him 'Dad'!" Qin Qing said.
Qin Shuang looked at her own father.
Qin Yi, on the other hand, squatted down and opened his arms toward Xiaoshuang.
Xiaoshuang at first still had some instinctual resistance, after all, her impression of this father had become very vague.
When her parents left, Xiaoshuang was not even three years old, and over the years, her father's image in her memory had grown even more indistinct.
However, Xiaoshuang still mustered her courage.
"Dad!"
She called out.
Once she called out, the little girl's nose turned sour, and tears uncontrollably flowed.
She burrowed into her father's embrace.
Ever since she could clearly remember, she didn't know what it was like to be in her parents' arms.
And now... Xiaoshuang finally felt it.
"Dad!" Qin Shuang called out again.
