Charles gazed at Ji Chicheng with his deep blue eyes, lost in thought for quite a while, before his face gradually revealed a haggardness and desolation unbecoming of his demeanor and prestige.
"Your mother's remains, do they count?"
Ji Chicheng shook his head, his tall frame also swaying.
Stunned, unable to snap back to reality.
"Child, after all these years, why have you never come to see your mother?" Charles looked at Ji Chicheng and asked, suddenly a chill flashed across his face, "I know, it must be that old stubborn Ji Zhengdao who has been too strict with you. He's always so selfish and overbearing, thinks too highly of himself, and does whatever he wants without considering others' feelings."
Every word was laden with hatred toward Ji Zhengdao.
The usually noble and elegant gentleman now seemed like a demon incarnate, radiating a terrifying aura of resentment.
Ji Chicheng still stunned, looked at Charles, his mouth opening slightly...
