***
Uncle Dao's face was scarred with crisscrossing sharp cuts.
However, the man's face was a purplish-black, as if he had been poisoned.
Still, his features were strikingly handsome, bearing a slight resemblance to her own.
Seemingly unwilling for his daughter to see him like this, he painfully turned his face toward the tombstone.
Mai Xiaomai looked at his purplish-black face, her feelings were extremely complex.
Just now, she had naturally called him dad.
But at this moment, it felt as if something was stuck in her throat, preventing her from speaking.
The man regained his composure, tears filling his eyes as he looked at her, bent down to pick up a branch from the ground, and wrote on the ground.
"Daughter, I'm sorry."
Seeing these three words, all the grievances Mai Xiaomai held against him suddenly collapsed, and she could no longer muster any hatred.
"Dad—"
She choked and asked, "Can't you speak?"
The man opened his mouth.
