"Without a heart, living becomes meaningless."
Old Riches seemed to attempt standing up, but his body, as fragile as cicada wings, could no longer bear the effort. He couldn't stand, moving like a doddering old man, most of his body no longer obeying him. He lowered his head to glance at the urn—it was empty, the ashes inside had already scattered away.
It felt as if his late wife had already taken the first step ahead of him. No, she was waiting for him just up ahead.
Old Riches sighed, as if talking to himself, but also seemingly speaking directly to Yan Huihong:
"When one grows old, there's this tendency to ramble about things;
Sigh, his parents weren't worth much, but who told me to promise to be his godfather?
My fate, so bitter—twenty years ago and twenty years later, I tripped over the same flaw."
