Yin Zhiqiang grasped Yin Geping's hand, panting heavily, and gritted his teeth: "Geping, Yin, the Yin Family, I'll leave it to you. You... you must hold on..."
With each word he uttered, a little blood flowed from his mouth.
Yin Geping held his body, his eyes reddened: "Okay, don't speak anymore, save your strength."
Yin Zhiqiang shook his head: "I can't make it. Actually... all these years, I've always, always been proud of you. What happened between your mother and me has nothing to do with you. It's been hard on you all these years."
"Please, stop speaking, just stop..." Yin Geping finally shed tears.
He sensed from his father's words a strong implication of final words.
Yin Zhiqiang stared at his son, his gaze full of affection and regret.
To say that he never directed his anger at Yin Geping because of his mother over the years is a lie.
But he knew this son, estranged for so many years yet always on his mind, had never disappointed him.
