Waiting for one tide to ebb and another to rise again, until all the afterglow is swallowed up—does longing still keep piling up without end?
When Zhang Zhentian heard his own son tell him that his biological father was in critical condition, he was a little stunned to realize that he had really made his own father sick from anger. Now what was he supposed to do with the turmoil in his heart? Clearly the old man had only meant well, had only wanted him to come home, so why did he have to be so cruel and reject him this time? He was already that old, and still spoke up for his son, yet how could he, as a son, be so heartless, so vicious, as to cast him aside.
