But practicality intervened: "No," he continued, "if I become a woman, there will be no father for you, Fu Sheng." His gaze shifted to the boy, who stood at the crossroads of innocence and understanding.
And then, Fu Sheng's response—a child's logic unburdened by societal norms: "But I didn't ask you to be a woman or my father. We've grown up together, played together…we're friends, not father and son."
As if the bonds of friendship could override the roles assigned by blood. "Shengsheng," Yun Ling interjected, her eyes searching his face, "do you love your father? Ah Xian?"
I love Ah Xian," Fu Sheng replied, his words both candid and poignant, "but he's not my father." The weight of that statement hung in the air, a truth that defied the conventional roles of parentage.
How poor is Ah Xian? He's own son, refusing that he's not his father.
"My dear Shengsheng, let me tell you a story." Yun Ling said.
"Hmm." Fu Sheng nodded.