"Dad, are you thirsty? Let me pour you some water to soothe your throat."
Song Qinghe poured the water and brought it over.
Eagerly trying to please the old man.
Only then did the old man glance at his own son.
"Second son, why have you come? Didn't you disown me as your father? Why are you suddenly rushing over now? Afraid that my death would affect you?"
As soon as these words were out, Song Qinghe's face changed.
If outsiders heard this, they would think he was wishing for his own father's death.
"Dad, please don't blame the second son. He's been running around tirelessly these days. No matter what the second son did before, you're already of a ripe age, and you should forgive what needs forgiving. After all, whether he's good or not, he's your son. Who asked you to give birth to him?"
Song Qingyun spoke up to smooth things over.
The conflict between his brother and the old man was known to him.
