Xiang Tianxing's lips slightly moved.
He had already recognized him.
After a long pause, he hoarsely said: "You still came."
That was his son.
"I thought you'd say something more touching."
Xiang Beifei looked displeased.
Xiang Tianxing was mildly surprised.
His son's personality seemed to have changed a lot, no longer like the rebellious teenager who used to shout and tell them to leave upon meeting.
All these years, it was the first time he saw his son, and various emotions surged within his heart.
To him, Houtu wielded immense time distortion, leading to their separation for ten thousand years. These ten thousand years trapped in one space were a long process.
He had always been contemplating how to face his son, sometimes even preparing his words.
But when he finally saw his son, it seemed as though he had forgotten everything he had planned to say.
Xiang Tianxing's haggard face showed a look of guilt: "I'm sorry, I thought..."
"I'm tired of hearing apologies."
