Courtyard House: Initial Donation of 50 Million

The fight inside the house finally came to an end, leaving the floor in a mess.

Half of the White Widow's cheeks were swollen, and the blood marks on her five fingers were clear and ferocious. Her hair was scattered, her clothes were skewed, she was lying on the ground breathing heavily, and there was still a madness and anger in her eyes. Her two precious sons were even more miserable. Their bodies were bruised and bruised after being severely beaten by the bench. They were curled up on the ground and twitching in pain. They didn't even have the strength to get up. The previous arrogant and domineering arrogance had completely dissipated.

He Daqing's old back injury throbbed with pain. He steadied himself against the edge of the table to catch his breath. When he looked up again, his face was devoid of its usual accommodating and ambiguous demeanor, replaced by an icy chill. The moment the stool struck his back, his body ached, but his mind was sharpened—eight years of living in a daze should finally come to an end.

He raised his hand and wiped the bloodstains from his neck. His fingertips were stained with blood, but he wasn't angry. He just looked down at the mother and her two children on the ground, his voice not loud, but every word clear.

"Let's settle the accounts today. For eight years, I've handed over every penny of my 65 yuan monthly salary to you. I've paid for everything from the family's food, clothing, and daily necessities to the children's schooling and medical care. I also earn extra money by cooking for weddings and funerals on the side. Apart from sending 10 yuan to Yushui every month, the rest goes into supporting the family. I, He Daqing, have done my utmost for you three and have no debts whatsoever."

The white widow's lips moved, and she was about to interrupt with a cry, but He Daqing's cold gaze silenced her.

"I know you've never truly considered me your husband, and the two children have never acknowledged me as their father. I know how you've cursed me and guarded against me behind my back. I turned a blind eye before, thinking that we were all middle-aged and just making do. This time when I came back from Beijing, I originally planned to take you with me. I found a new job in Beijing, as the head of the canteen at an electronics factory, which is more respectable and pays better. I was thinking of bringing the two children with me, teaching them to cook, so they would have a skill to rely on in the future and never have to worry about food for the rest of their lives."

Having said that, He Daqing gave a cold laugh, a laugh full of self-mockery and chilling disbelief.

"What a pity, you three don't deserve this blessing. I poured my heart and soul into helping you plan your future, and you, instead, took advantage of my momentary lapse in attention and smashed a stool against my old wound. Even a dog that's been fed for eight years knows to wag its tail, but I've raised you for eight years and raised two ungrateful wretches who stab me in the back, and a woman who's always scheming to steal my secret stash of money."

He took half a step forward, his tone suddenly turning somber, resolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

"From this day forward, our relationship is completely severed. Eight years of affection and eight years of support are wiped clean. From now on, you go your way, and I'll go mine. We'll marry and have no further connection whatsoever."

Upon hearing this, Widow Bai was stunned for a moment, then jumped up as if her tail had been stepped on. Ignoring the pain on her face, she put her hands on her hips and began to scream and yell, "He Daqing, how dare you! You raised us for eight years, so you have to support us for the rest of our lives! You dare to go back to the capital and try? Tomorrow I'll go to the No. 2 Textile Factory and make a scene, shouting in the streets, letting everyone know that you, Chen Shimei, the heartless man, have abandoned us, a widow and her children!"

She had used this tactic countless times over the past eight years. Whenever He Daqing missed his children in Beijing and wanted to send money back, she would always manage to get him under her thumb through crying, making a scene, and threatening suicide. She was certain that He Daqing was proud, soft-hearted, and unwilling to lose his secure job at the No. 2 Textile Factory, much less allow others to gossip about him.

This time, however, He Daqing simply looked at her calmly, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if he were looking at a clown.

"Go ahead and cause trouble. A secure job? I don't care about that anymore."

He didn't bother to say another word and turned to leave. The neighbors who had been watching the commotion at the gate instinctively made way for him; no one dared to stop him, nor did anyone want to—everyone could see that Old He was truly heartbroken.

He Daqing had worked at the No. 2 Textile Factory for eight years. The position of canteen manager was lucrative and stable, a coveted job that many people would fight tooth and nail for. With his extensive network, he went straight to the factory's staff dormitory after leaving the factory compound and found Old Zhou, who had long coveted the position. Upon hearing that He Daqing wanted to officially transfer to a manual labor position, Old Zhou was both surprised and delighted, not even haggling over the price. He immediately paid, signed the paperwork, and even helped with the handover within the factory.

In less than two hours, He Daqing sold off all the assets he had relied on for eight years in Baoding, leaving nothing behind.

The commotion of the finalizing of the paperwork was quite loud, and the widow in the courtyard heard it intermittently from her house. At first, she didn't believe it and yelled at He Daqing for putting on airs, until she heard Old Zhou's loud voice laughing and saying, "From now on, the canteen will be in my hands," and heard the crisp sound of the keys being handed over. The tantrum on her face gradually froze, and finally, it froze completely.

She rushed out, leaning against the doorframe, and saw He Daqing stuffing a wad of cash into his pocket and nodding goodbye to Old Zhou. His expression was as indifferent as if he were dealing with a trivial matter, showing absolutely no reluctance.

The white widow felt a chill run through her body, and her limbs went weak.

She knew He Daqing was soft-hearted, that he cared about his reputation, and that he was reluctant to give up his secure state-owned job. But she didn't expect that he would throw away eight years of hard work just like that, in order to return to the capital and for his own children.

It turns out that the man she had been controlling for eight years never truly needed her; he just hadn't made up his mind to leave before. Now that he's woken up and figured things out, she and her two sons aren't even a burden in his eyes—he can just throw them away.

"No... It can't be..." she murmured to herself, slumped back onto the threshold, and tears streamed down her face, but she no longer had the confidence she had shown earlier when she threw a tantrum.

Without He Daqing and his salary, how would she, a widow without a job, survive with two lazy and unskilled sons? She used to scheme against his secret stash of money and guard against him sending money to the capital, thinking he was stupid and easy to manipulate. Now she realizes that if she really drove him away, she would be nothing.

The neighbors watching the commotion outside whispered among themselves; no one sympathized with her.

"They brought it on themselves. Old He treated them, mother and children, quite well, yet he still stabbed them in the back. Who wouldn't feel heartbroken?"

"They were living a good life but were now worrying about money all the time. Now that they've lost their backer, they're going to starve."

After completing all the formalities, He Daqing calmly returned to the house, picked up his simple luggage that he had packed long ago, which contained only a few changes of clothes and his savings of many years—money he had saved for his children, not a penny of which he would leave to this family.

His gaze swept indifferently over the white widow, who lay paralyzed on the ground, her face ashen, and then over her two stepsons, who huddled in the corner, too afraid to look up. There was no pity, no lingering affection in his eyes, and even the hatred had faded.

Eight years of confusion, settled today, from now on we owe each other nothing.

He didn't say another word, turned around, and walked out of the scheming and absurd little house, out of the courtyard that had confined him for eight years. His steps were steady, without the slightest intention of looking back.

He headed straight to Baoding Railway Station and, without hesitation, bought a ticket for the fastest train back to Beijing.

The moment He Daqing held the ticket in his hand, he breathed a long sigh of relief, and the heavy weight that had been pressing on his heart for eight years was finally lifted.

The road ahead is the way home, the road to my children, and the way to make up for the debts I've owed them for half a lifetime.

Behind me lies a tragic fate, absurdity, and a past I cannot bear to recall.

The train whistled long and deep, and the wheels slowly started moving. He Daqing looked out the window at the rapidly receding scenery of Baoding, his lips twitching slightly, a look that was hard to tell whether it was relief or a sigh.

Eight years of absurd dreams, finally awakened today.

From now on, He Daqing's roots will only be in the capital, and only with his children.