Tang San was filled with questions, unable to understand why his usually dispirited father had suddenly acted this way.
But feeling a warmth he had never felt in that embrace before, he still reached out and hugged Tang Hao.
After perhaps three minutes, Tang Hao released Tang San, a barely perceptible stiffness in his arms as he drew them back.
He turned toward the stone wall in the corner, suddenly raised his arm, and slammed his fist into its rough surface!
With a muffled boom, stone chips rained down, and a fist-sized crater appeared in the wall.
A palm-sized black wooden box was revealed inside the depression, its edges still dusted with fresh stone powder.
Tang Hao reached in and grabbed it, pulling the wooden box out of the wall with a little effort.
The wooden box felt heavy in his hand. Fine but indistinct patterns were carved into its surface, resembling entwined vines and giving off a somber sheen in the dim light.
"Xiao San, this is something your mother left behind."
His voice had grown much lower, carrying an indescribable rasp as he handed over the wooden box:
"Open it."
"Mother..."
Tang San murmured the word, his heart feeling as though something had clenched around it, even his fingertips beginning to tingle.
Tang San accepted the wooden box with both hands. As his fingertips touched the cold wood, he could not help trembling slightly.
This was the first time he had so tangibly touched something connected to his mother.
He took a deep breath and carefully undid the brass clasp on the wooden box with a soft click.
A layer of dark red velvet lined the box, with nothing resting on it.
Tang San's pupils contracted slightly, and he instinctively rubbed his eyes. Beside him, Tang Hao watched