Nianzang's eyes were like his mother's—not the shape, those were Asian like his father's—but expressive, and they were as large as saucers. BoBo had told him this story and Nianzang had cried out during the tale, "My father never gets agitated."
BoBo said, "No, he doesn't."
"He would never forget to burn the letter."
"No, he wouldn't."
"He's not careless like that," his voice shrill.
This was different, hearing it in his father's voice, from his lips. As a child, Nianzang had always doubted this part of the story, that his father would do this.
"You—?"
Diyiren opened his eyes, shifted them to his son.
"I have made a pact with you, to always be honest and open."
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasyEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...
