Gu Tingjue returned to his own office. He placed the document bag onto the coffee table in front and then sat down on the sofa, with his long legs crossed. After glancing at the document bag, he laughed at himself with a self-deprecating smile.
He had known it was impossible all along, yet he still held onto a sliver of hope, perhaps influenced by his mother.
Lately, whenever she had nothing to do, she would call him, talking about which friend's son had married or who had grandchildren now.
He had to listen obediently; otherwise, she would start crying, making a scene, and threatening to take her own life, which was truly exasperating.
He understood how the elderly felt, but love was not something that could be forced.
Alright, since it was done, he might as well take a look.
