Their figures, huddled together in the dim light of dawn, looked rather shabby, but the lively and sprightly child was conspicuously missing—Jiang Youfu. His absence was like an invisible blade, silently slicing a trace of unease into the air.
As soon as Jiang Xunzhong entered the courtyard, he didn't hesitate to take off his own coat, which was already soaked with rain, and gently draped it over the slim shoulders of Lady Zhao, carefully avoiding the fierce wound on her arm, fearing that even a droplet of cold rain would cause her pain.
He himself was drenched, with strands of wet hair clinging to his forehead, and his clothes dripping water, looking like a drenched chicken just pulled out of the river.
Su Yu witnessed this scene and could not help but internally sigh; this tender care indeed resembled that of a standard good husband, yet at the same time, that neglect and dereliction of duty toward their child made it difficult for him to be deemed a qualified father.
