"You were both born to the same parents. If you two brothers sever ties, isn't that just like stabbing your father in the heart?"
Chen Dachang hung his head listlessly, not saying a word. The old woman frantically pinched his arm. "Old man, say something, will you!"
Chen Dachang remained silent, slowly pulling his pipe from his sleeve to smoke.
The old woman slapped the pipe out of his hand and onto the ground. "Smoke, smoke, smoke! You'll smoke yourself to death one of these days! Your two sons are about to sever ties, and you still have the mind to smoke? Have you smoked yourself stupid?"
Chen Song glanced at the old woman, then at Chen Dachang. His father today was no different from the man he'd always been—listless, quiet, and incompetent. 'It's as if he lost his soul during that flight from the famine,' Chen Song thought. 'What's left is just an empty shell.'
