Rong Mochen stared at Rong Sinan for a long moment, then narrowed his black eyes, walked over to him, and extended a hand.
Rong Sinan glanced at his hand, but merely closed his eyes slowly and did not respond.
Rong Mochen frowned, withdrew his hand, and leaned against the sofa, taking a cigarette and lighter from his pocket.
He lit a cigarette, held it between his fingers, looked down at Rong Sinan on the floor, "You found out?"
Rong Sinan's tightly closed black eyelashes trembled violently.
Rong Mochen glanced at his clenched fists, squinted, put the cigarette to his lips, took a few puffs, and said while exhaling smoke rings, "Thirty-two years, Yige is thirty-two now."
Rong Sinan's forehead was flushed, and the skin on his forehead was bulging and uneven due to the tense veins.
"She has the right to choose the life she wants to live," Rong Mochen stated.
"...So, you think I should just watch her marry someone else?" Rong Sinan said hoarsely.
