Over the years, he deliberately blocked out news from Qingfeng Prefecture, writing a letter home every so often to prevent his family from worrying, letting them know he was still alive.
The departure back then wasn't out of hatred, but out of love. Seeking but not obtaining, loving but not receiving—that torment was too painful, almost crushing him.
Never before had he felt so desperate. Was he too greedy, was he expecting too much, and always without response, that he tormented and tortured himself in such a way?
He could no longer bear it.
That night, the rain poured heavily...
He shook his head, stopping himself from thinking further. It wasn't possible, everything would be fine.
"Daddy?"
The child woke up, climbing out of the carriage. The coachman was startled, afraid the child would fall off and hurriedly scooped the child into his arms.
The child was unaware of worry, extending little hands. "Daddy, hug!"
