The Double

Xue Huaiyuan stared straight at Xue Zhao, gradually, his lips began to quiver, and his hand trembled as it reached for Xue Zhao’s shoulder. He was shaking, as if afraid that this was all a dream, cautiously not daring to step forward, for fear of breaking this hard-won beautiful dream—and upon waking, he would no longer be able to see Xue Zhao.

It was Xue Zhao who took the initiative to grasp Xue Huaiyuan’s hand, saying, "Father! It’s me, I’m back, I didn’t die!"

When Xue Zhao grasped his hand, the warmth and solidity told Xue Huaiyuan it wasn’t a mere illusion from a dream. It seemed that only now did he dare to believe it, and he called out "Ah Zhao" with tears streaming down his face.

Xue Zhao also couldn’t stop crying, saying between sobs, "It’s all my unfilial behavior that caused you to worry. If only I had seen you sooner, Father, you wouldn’t have had to suffer the torment of that venomous woman from Yongning."

"Ah Zhao," Xue Huaiyuan said, "what happened to your leg?"

Looking at his own leg, Xue Zhao smiled faintly and replied, "Father, I can’t walk anymore, but it’s alright, I’m still alive!"

He spoke as if it was nothing, but Xue Huaiyuan instantly understood the gravity of the situation. He knew his son’s lifelong dream, how he had always hoped to make a name for himself in the martial arts world. A youth in the prime of life, now consigned to a chair, unable to move freely—what a profound pain this must be for him. Xue Huaiyuan’s lips turned pale. He had always been strict with Xue Zhao, but this time, he couldn’t help but pat his hand, saying, "It’s okay, Ah Zhao, it’s okay."

Everyone in the room felt a piercing heartache, finding the sight of the father and son’s reunion incredibly moving, and even the eyes of onlookers grew moist.