After the family split up, my stepmother and scumbag father begged me to come home.

Lin Xiaohua's face flushed red instantly, from her neck all the way to her ears, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, its fur standing on end.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but her lips trembled twice and no sound came out—not because she had nothing to say, but because she had too many words, which were crammed together and blocked her throat.

Wang Hehua couldn't stand there any longer.

She walked around from behind the old lady, stepped forward, put her hands on her hips, and struck a pose even more imposing than Lin Xiaohua.

Her eyes weren't big, but when she glared, they had an indescribable fierce look, like two unsharpened knives—dull, but still painful to hit.

Lin Xiaohua hates it when people say she's not pretty.

These words were like a needle, piercing right into her most painful spot. Her face turned from red to white, then from white to green, her features contorted, her whole face resembling a crushed persimmon.

"You brat, what did you say? I'll beat you to death!"

She rushed over. Her steps were hurried and chaotic, her hands outstretched and clawing forward, her long fingernails looking like ten bloody blades in the twilight.

Lin Qianqian did not move.

She stood still, the basket still at her feet, like a tree firmly rooted to the ground. Only when Lin Xiaohua lunged forward did she turn sideways, raise her hand, and flick her wrist—a small movement, just a gentle pull. Lin Xiaohua couldn't stop her momentum, tripped, and fell to the ground with a "thud" like a bag of flour.

He landed face-first.

"Ah—you...you actually hit me?" Lin Xiaohua lay on the ground, her voice shrill and incredulous. "I'm your aunt, your elder! Ouch! My waist, my bottom!"

The onlookers outside the courtyard gasped. Several people holding bowls forgot to eat, and those with pipes forgot to exhale; all eyes were fixed on Lin Qianqian.

Grandma Lin rushed over, squatted down to help Lin Xiaohua up, and groped her all over, cursing as she did so: "You unfilial and disobedient brat! I'll beat you to death!"

As she spoke, she was about to stand up and pounce on Lin Qianqian.

Lin Qianqian released Lin Xiaohua, straightened up, and took a half-step back. Not out of fear, but because she found it dirty.

"Disobedient and unfilial? We've already separated the family, and you've come to my house to beat me up, and I'm not allowed to fight back? What, does letting you beat me mean I'm being filial? What kind of logic is that!" She glanced down at Lin Xiaohua, "And don't mention any aunt. I don't have one. I, Lin Qianqian, only have one relative, and that is Lin Yulong."

These words were spoken softly, yet carried a heavy weight. Like a nail driven into the ground, it couldn't be pulled out.

Lin Yulong stood behind her, clutching the hem of her clothes, his eyes red-rimmed, but he bit his lip and didn't utter a sound.

Seeing that force wasn't working, Old Mrs. Lin's eyes lit up, and she changed tactics. She slapped her thigh, plopped down on the ground, and pounded the ground with both hands, her voice suddenly rising eight octaves:

"Everyone, come and see! The Lin family has raised these siblings all these years, and they've raised ungrateful wretches! They're disobedient and unfilial, hitting their aunt and cursing their grandmother. My life is so miserable!"

Her cries were sharp and long, like an awl piercing the night sky.

Lin Qianqian looked at her without moving.

She didn't sit down like the old woman. She just stood there, watching coldly, the corners of her mouth even curving slightly—a smile devoid of warmth, like a frozen river in winter.

"Grandma, you did a great job." Her voice wasn't loud, but it was loud enough for people outside the courtyard to hear. "It's a pity there weren't enough audience members. Should I go and call a few more people for you?"

The sound effect of Grandma Lin crying froze for a moment.

It's like singing a high note in an opera and suddenly someone cuts off your throat.