Zhao Li Xin took her hand and gently pressed her palm against his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment and slowly inhaled her scent. It was a scent no one else could perceive—not even Lory herself. But to him, it was unmistakable.
"I don't know the first thing about parenthood, let alone being a father…" he admitted, his voice thoughtful, almost contemplative.
When he opened his eyes again, there was an unfamiliar helplessness in them. "I'm definitely not a good son or disciple... I'm not even a good master," he said in a self-deprecating tone. "I don't think I'm even a good husband to you."
