Seventh Uncle Ye appeared calm, but his heart was tumultuous like a rolling river. Approaching fifty, and only just learning he had a son, the shock and delight were beyond words!
Now, what filled his heart was more worry than joy. His son was already eighteen; having never fulfilled a father's duties, could he be accepted?
It had been agreed before coming here that Luo Ye and Ye Xuan would break the news to Zhan Ping. Whether he would accept it or not was entirely voluntary; if he did not want to meet him, there must be no coercion.
"Clang..." The teacup toppled over on the table and swirled around, the clear tea hurriedly rushed toward the edge of the table, and Seventh Uncle Ye frantically grabbed a cloth and wiped back and forth.
Yu Ying stabilized the cup, her hand brushing against his rough, large hand. She swiftly retracted it and said with a concealed deep voice, "Keep wiping and the table will be worn through."
