Jiang Ye was treated as his own by his adoptive father since he was a child, until the night when his father died, a mouthful of blood spurted into his palm, and he hoarsely spat out: "You are not my biological child." That night, Yu Qingmang stood outside the door holding a stack of yellowed files, his eyes as cold as knives. She is his biological mother, and she was also an orphan who was forced into desperation by the Jiang family. Eighteen years of pretended family affection collapsed. Jiang Ye was no longer a docile and dutiful son, and Yu Qingmang was no longer a remorseful mother. The truth is like rusty iron, cutting through flesh and bone.
