"Alright, alright... Mom's not in a rush... not in a rush..."
"Sichen, since you rarely come back, can we talk?" Leng Huayi coughed lightly, taking the initiative to speak to his eldest son.
"Okay." Leng Sichen nodded and followed.
The father and son walked to the back of the yard.
Leng Huayi stood with his back to him, and just from his silhouette, one could see he was burdened with heavy thoughts. It seemed the recent distraction Mom mentioned in the phone wasn't an exaggeration.
Leng Sichen didn't rush, quietly standing there waiting.
After a while, Leng Huayi finally spoke, "Sichen... all these years... do you hate me?"
"Hate you?"
Leng Huayi seemed a bit tongue-tied, "Compared to Siche, I haven't treated you well, and your mom... too..."
"No." Leng Sichen replied. He spoke the truth. There had been resentment, but after all, they were the parents who raised him; how could he harbor hatred?
