Jiang Mingzhong's body trembled, and he hurriedly held onto the door frame, looking at his son kneeling on the ground, the son he had raised with his own hands, whose face was ashen.
Jiang Mingzhong left, stumbling down the stairs; at this moment, he truly felt old.
Carring a plastic bag, Jiang Mingzhong sat idly on the stone bench at the bottom of the building, watching as the sky darkened, yet he didn't know where to go.
Looking at the setting sun on the horizon, Jiang Mingzhong suddenly thought of how his son looked when he was young, a small bundle that he cradled in his arms, soft and adorably cute.
One day, he would utter the word 'dad,' and Jiang Mingzhong's heart would melt completely; he swore to protect this little guy his whole life and give him the best!
His son grew up day by day, excelling in his studies, but Jiang Mingzhong knew the child wasn't interested in medicine. He had his own dream of becoming a teacher, and he never imposed his ideas on his son.
