Duan Yanyun now really wanted to smash his father's portrait, but his raised right hand just couldn't come down; after all, this was his father, who had never wronged him. How could he bring himself to do it?
Duan Yanyun covered his arms and sat on the sofa, leaning against it, a face of utter dejection.
Fortunately, his daughter wasn't around. She might be willful and unreasonable, but she was still his daughter. Now she had gone to the Yu Family — given what had happened in the Duan Family, it was better for her to hide for a while.
"Yanran, don't blame your uncle." Duan Yanyun could only choose to do this, although he knew what she was doing at the Yu Family, but with his wife in her hands, he had no choice.
Duan Yanyun bandaged his injured left arm and dialed his niece's mobile number, finding an excuse to ask her to come out, believing she would not be suspicious.
"Uncle, what's the matter?" Duan Yanran was at work.