The Song Family rejoiced over Song Lingzhao's recent promotion, but someone else fell ill upon witnessing the entrance of the Ning clan into the capital; that was Mr. Ning.
At that time, he was lying in a low, damp courtyard, with a phlegm pot that had just been filled with foul substances beside him, gasping heavily on the bed.
"Sir." Zhang Zhi wiped his mouth with a warm towel.
Mr. Ning waved his hand, closed his eyes, and a line of tears slid down from the corner of his eye. In a hoarse voice, he said, "I am truly a sinner of the Ning Family."
Even when the Ning Family had retreated to their hometown to farm all those years ago, they hadn't suffered such disgrace as today upon entering the city, greeted with filth, an unbearable stench.
Seeing the group dressed in tattered clothes, emaciated and skeletal, his heart felt as if it were being cut with a knife, especially since there were few familiar faces among the crowd, likely having died along the way.
