Song Yan wore a look of disdain and said dolefully, "If it were my mom, she would definitely give it."
Song Chengye looked at her for a long time, then snorted coldly through his nose.
There was no further discussion.
Song Yan: "..."
The harm was not great, but the mockery was profound.
Song Yan observed her father's face flushed with alcohol, lacking the usual authority in his brows and eyes today, looking kind and amiable like an elder from any ordinary family.
He must have had quite a bit to drink today, but he wasn't drunk yet; she knew his capacity for alcohol well, having developed it from years of socializing when he was younger.
Song Yan noticed the white hair at his temples. Upon closer inspection, she realized his hair was peppered with a lot of white.
After the New Year, her dad would be forty-nine, not far from fifty.
A sudden unfamiliar emotion surged in her heart, inexplicable and indistinct.