"Brother?"
"Ah? Oh! I'm fine."
Meng Lang came back to his senses, somewhat dazedly picking up his hoe and continuing to walk forward.
The feeling of two overlapping timelines had lingered stubbornly in Meng Lang's mind.
He knew this wasn't an illusion of his own...
But... this isn't scientific!
Why would Mr. Meng want to kill me? Just because I have dementia?
This doesn't make sense; even if there's no saving me, there's no need to make my death so painful, right?
At least give me a quick end!
Meng Lang quickened his pace and approached Mr. Meng.
"Cough! Dad, may I ask you a question?" he said tentatively.
"What question?" Mr. Meng glanced at him.
"If... I mean if, if someone close to you were sick, incurably so, and their life was painful and they were a burden on others, would you choose a quick end over prolonged agony, and send them on their way by your own hand?"
Upon hearing this, Mr. Meng turned his head and sized up Meng Lang from top to bottom.