Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Yuan Qiao's lips moved slightly, her voice barely audible, like a mosquito's buzz.

"You said you wouldn't kill him."

"What would I do with his life?" The young man chuckled, patting her shoulder lightly. "I just need a scapegoat. If he doesn't go in, the project can't be approved, and who will fill the multi-million dollar hole? You gave birth to my daughter, and I'll arrange everything for you. We each get what we need."

When he said "each to their own needs," his tone was as relaxed as if he were discussing a business deal.

Yuan Qiao's shoulders trembled slightly under his palm.

She turned her head and glanced at the family photo on the wall again.

Song Chao stood in the photo, smiling at her with such contentment and honesty, as if all the happiness in the world was contained in his worn-out chest.

She remembered his silly grin when he wrapped the new scarf around her neck, his serious profile as he squatted on the balcony gesturing about aluminum alloy materials, and the tears welling up in his eyes when Niu Niu hugged his neck and called "Daddy."

Those images tore at her heart like knives.

She closed her eyes, and tears fell again.

But she didn't say anything more.

There was no further rebuttal.

The young man withdrew his hand, straightened the cuffs of his coat, and strode towards the door.

Zhang Jinshan stepped forward and opened the door. A cold draft from the hallway rushed in, causing the living room light bulb to flicker twice.

The young man went downstairs without looking back.

The black sedan started up, its engine making a very soft sound, which seemed out of place in this dilapidated residential compound.

The car's taillights left two dark red streaks under the osmanthus tree before quickly disappearing at the alley entrance.

Yuan Qiao was the only one left in the room.

She slid slowly to the ground, supporting herself against the wall, burying her face in her knees, her shoulders trembling silently.

The living room was quiet, with only the old wall clock ticking away.

A muttering sound suddenly came from Niu Niu's little room.

"dad……"

Yuan Qiao suddenly raised her head.

She got up and walked to the door of Niu Niu's room, pushing the door open a crack to peek inside.

Niu Niu was sleeping soundly, hugging her Barbie doll. Her little mouth was slightly open, and her brows were gently furrowed, as if she was dreaming about something unhappy.

Yuan Qiao leaned against the door frame, looking at her daughter's innocent face, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

She knew that Niu Niu would soon never see Song Chao again.

After Song Chao went inside, that honest and simple man would never again be able to squat downstairs with a smile, waiting for his daughter to run into his arms; he would never again be able to save half a month's worth of cigarette money to buy Niu Niu Barbie dolls; he would never again be able to chase after his daughter in the park, running until his back ached and he grimaced while still smiling and saying, "Daddy isn't tired."

He will know nothing.

When he left, he was still wearing that faded military overcoat, with five thousand yuan that Yuan Qiao had given him in his pocket. He was thinking about buying Niu Niu a scooter and installing aluminum alloy on his wife's balcony when he came back next time.

He didn't know that this would be the last time he left this home.

He didn't know that his wife and children belonged to someone else.

Little did he know that the Mr. Zhang waiting for him at the alley entrance was the biggest dark cloud in the sky above him.

Yuan Qiao wiped away her tears and closed Niu Niu's bedroom door.

She walked to the wall, reached out and took the family photo off the wall, then turned it over and placed it face down on the table.

A thin layer of dust had settled on the back of the picture frame.

She stared at the back of the photo frame for a long time.

His fingers gripped the edge of the photo frame, his knuckles turning bluish-white.

The only sound in the living room was the clicking of the wall clock.

The family photo, which had been lying face down on the table, was never turned over again.

Meanwhile, on the bus...

Song Chao had just woken up, sneezed, and rubbed his nose.

He thought the car's air conditioning was set too low, so he wrapped his coat around himself.

The five thousand yuan that Yuan Qiao had stuffed into his pocket was still warm.

He took out his phone; the screen saver showed Yuan Qiao holding Niu Niu and smiling at him, their smiles dazzling in the sunlight.

The corners of his mouth unconsciously turned up.

My wife is wonderful, my daughter is wonderful.

Things will definitely get better and better.

The bus bumped along the provincial highway, the poplar trees on both sides of the road were bare, and the autumn wind swept fallen leaves past the window.

He pressed his phone against his chest, closed his eyes, and a satisfied smile still lingered on his lips.

Wen Yan watched this scene quietly from the depths of his consciousness.

He could simultaneously sense the happy man on the bus and the woman at home, squatting on the ground, crying silently.

Two completely different emotions flowed through the soul connection: one was a sweet anticipation, and the other was a tearing feeling of guilt.

The young man who had just driven away from the old residential compound was sitting in the back seat of a black sedan, sending an encrypted message on his mobile phone.

The message contained only a few words: "The scapegoat is in place, and the acceptance process is proceeding as planned."

Wen Yan gently tapped his knee with his fingertips.

That dark golden seed of soul has already taken root deep in the heart of the Song Dynasty, waiting only for the moment when the truth is revealed.

When this honest man, who has been treated like a fool his whole life, finally realizes that everything he has desperately tried to protect was a complete scam from beginning to end, that seed will sprout.

He was really looking forward to that day.

------

The bus swayed along the provincial highway for four hours before finally entering the territory of Zhaoming City.

When Song Chao got off the carriage carrying his heavy luggage, it was just getting dark.

The autumn wind, carrying the dust typical of construction sites, blew over and stung my face.

He touched the five thousand yuan that Yuan Qiao had stuffed into his pocket; it was still warm from her touch, and his heart felt warm.

He still had a piece of candy that Niu Niu had given him in his pocket; it was orange-flavored, and he hadn't been able to bring himself to eat it.

Foreman Lao Zhou arranged for a van to pick people up from the station, along with several other workers who were also returning together.

As soon as Lao Liu got on the bus, he slapped his thigh and started talking about how he had a fight with his wife when he got home. Xiao Zhao chimed in, saying that Lao Liu had to kneel on a washboard. The bus was noisy.

Song Chao sat by the window, watching the street scene rushing past outside, a smile always on his lips.

"Song Chao, you've been having a great time at home these past few days, haven't you? Look at the way you're all lovestruck."

Old Liu leaned over from the back seat, slapped him on the shoulder, and made a funny face.

Song Chao scratched his head and laughed even more sheepishly.

"Not bad, Niu Niu has grown a bit taller and can recite new nursery rhymes."

"All you care about is your daughter, don't you miss your wife?"

Xiao Zhao joined in the commotion, and the car erupted in laughter.

The Song Dynasty laughed along with them, without refuting them.

How could he not want to?

These past three days at home, watching Yuan Qiao busy in the kitchen every day, with an apron tied around her waist and her hair casually tied in a ponytail, coughing from the fumes while cooking, made him feel at ease.

Niu Niu kept pestering him to tell her stories, so he made up stories about things that happened on the construction site, like the excavator fighting the mixer, or the steel bar hero fighting the cement monster. Niu Niu's eyes sparkled as she told the stories, saying that her dad was a better storyteller than the people on TV.

On the night before he left, Yuan Qiao packed his luggage, folding his sweaters neatly, rolling up his socks and stuffing them in the corner, and also putting several packets of Banlangen (a traditional Chinese medicine) in his bag, saying that he could drink it when it got cold at the construction site.