Jiang Ziyu stood in front of the bedroom window, quietly watching the heavy rain outside the window, holding a cup of hot tea in his hand.

In these years, he has aged rapidly. At the age of seventy, he no longer has the majesty of the past, just like an ordinary man in his dying years.

"So you are right, you are Dajing's destiny."

Jiang Ziyu smiled and murmured that he began to recall his life, which was brilliant and wonderful, all thanks to his father.

Maybe it's time to leave.

Ginger

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