Closing the door, Yongrui looked at his mother, who was still leaning against the window in the exact same posture, and pressed his lips together, his grip on Uncle Qing's arm tightening slightly.
He knew she was his only blood relative left in this world; his mother had never married, always waiting for that heartless man who broke off their engagement and never returned.
He did not know whether to rejoice or worry, but if his mother could forgive and accept him, then he, too, could try to accept this stranger to whom he should have been close.
Chapter 867