"Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly my father's son." Fang Chuning tilted his head back to gaze at the moon, chuckling self-deprecatingly, his tone tinged with sorrow.
"You're drunk and talking nonsense, aren't you?" Xie Jue frowned.
"No nonsense. When I was very young, my father rarely came home. Even during festivals, he was nowhere to be seen. I was raised by my mother in a cocoon of luxury, pampered and adored, but my father felt like a stranger to me. I even found the Marquis more approachable than him. When I was four, I learned that he would return for the New Year, and I was so excited—because before that, his visits were countable on one hand. But the moment I laid eyes on him, I was afraid. Strange, isn't it? A child fearing his own father. The way he looked at me... I still remember it vividly. Foreign and harsh. I hid behind my mother, too scared to even call him 'father.' I disliked him, from the very first meeting.
