#987 of the Capital (2)

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When I came to the living room, I saw an old man with silver hair in his 80s or 90s, wearing a gray and white Tang suit with a majestic expression, sitting on a mahogany chair with a cane.

Behind him, stood a boy who was also wearing a Tang suit.

This young man was about eighteen or nineteen years old, with a tall and tall figure like a small poplar, his face was elegant and refined, and his expression was indifferent, giving him the atmosphere of a noble son from a strong scholarly family.

Taking a closer look, the boy's eyebrows are somewhat similar to Yang Zimei's.

When the old man saw Yang Zimei, his expression became excited and his breathing was short. He was about to stand up with a cane. He hesitated for a while, but sat down again. Although he was old, his sharp eyes looked at him with mixed emotions. following her.

Yang Qing and his wife were at a loss.

Seeing Yang Zimei come in, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Niuniu, come here!"

Yang Qing waved to her.

Yang Zimei walked over.

Yang Qing pulled her and whispered, "Maybe it's someone from Grandma's house, you can ask."

Yang Zimei nodded.

She stepped forward to make a cup of tea for the old man and the young man and presented it.

The old man watched her skillfully and elegantly brewing tea with scrutiny eyes, with a little appreciation and relief.

He took the tea, lowered his head and took a sip, nodded, "Well, not bad."

"Thank you grandpa!"

Yang Zimei didn't need to calculate, and roughly knew who this old man was.

"You are Xiaohui's granddaughter? Where is Xiaohui? Where is she?"

The old man's tone was a little impatient to ask, "You go and tell her that her father is here and let her come out to see me. I won't blame her anymore."

Yang Zimei got up and wanted to go back to the backyard to find her grandmother, but she saw her grandmother stumbled out.

Seeing the grizzled grandma kneeling in front of the old man, crying like a little daughter, Yang Zimei's eyes were sore, but her heart felt strange.

"Xiaohui—"

The old man's hand, covered with age spots, stretched out tremblingly and touched Zeng Hui's gray and dry hair.

After a few decades, my daughter's black and supple hair had turned into gray hair, and she was an old man full of wrinkles just like herself.

The old man had mixed feelings and tears, trying to pull Zeng Hui up.

Zeng Hui refused, with a look of atonement, her eyes lowered with tears, her voice choked, "Father, my daughter is not filial!"

"Xiaohui, get up, don't let the old father's heart break again. In the past, the old father never blamed you, just for your heartache. For so many years, the old father has not been able to find you and let you bear it alone. So much, sorry."

The old man reached out and touched Zeng Hui's face, which had been sculpted by time, and his heart was aching and aching.

Zeng Hui got up and sat beside the old man in a regular manner, with her fingers twisting the corners of her clothes, tears kept falling.

Seeing her hands that had become rough due to long-term labor, the old man took it for a while, stretched out his hand and pulled his daughter's hand up, rubbing it and scrutinizing it, "My little Hui, before the hands were so beautiful, now they are so beautiful. How much suffering did it take to become like this?"

"Look at what my father-in-law said, Xiaohui followed me, but she didn't suffer any hardships, but I always hurt her."

At this time, grandfather Yang Bai didn't know when he came back, just when he heard this, he shouted while holding a pipe, burping wine, and then sat down in front of the old man carelessly.

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