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

The next morning, before Ding Xiaohu arrived, someone was already squatting at the gate of Lin Qianqian's fence.

Lin Qianqian got up to empty the chamber pot and pushed open the door—

A figure squatted at the doorway, hunching his neck, like an old quail that had been soaked by the rain.

She was startled and almost dropped the bucket in her hand.

"Who?"

"It's Dad, Qianqian." Lin Guozhu stood up, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, but he didn't dare to look at her.

Lin Qianqian didn't move, still holding the chamber pot in her hand.

"What's up?"

"Um..." Lin Guozhu rubbed his hands together, "How are you and Ah Long...?"

"Yes, it's fine."

"That's good, that's good." He gave a dry laugh, shuffled his feet on the ground, but didn't move forward or take a step.

Lin Qianqian didn't reply, she just looked at him.

The air fell silent for a few moments.

Lin Guozhu finally spoke: "Qianqian, I heard... you know the method for removing poisonous potatoes?"

Lin Qianqian sneered inwardly.

really.

"No one visits the temple without a reason." Ding Yuxiang's mouth is more powerful than a bellows in a stove.

"Mmm," she said.

"Um... Dad wants to be with you..." Lin Guozhu had barely begun to speak.

"no."

Two words, crisp and clean, like a knife cut down so fast that there wasn't even time for blood to flow.

Lin Guozhu was stunned.

"I am your father." He said this with a slightly weak voice, as if he himself didn't quite believe it.

"We've separated." Lin Qianqian looked at him, emphasizing each word, "In my heart, you're no longer that."

Lin Guozhu opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

A breeze blew by, carrying the coolness of the morning. The withered grass on the fence swayed.

"...Qianqian." He managed to squeeze out two words, "I..."

"She sent you, didn't she?" Lin Qianxiang interrupted him before he could finish.

Lin Guozhu lowered his head.

"Your mother said—"

"I don't have a mother." Lin Qianqian's voice suddenly turned cold, like water poured out in winter. "My mother died long ago."

Lin Guozhu shrugged.

He stood there, a man in his forties, hunched over, as if he had been punched in the chest.

"I really have no other choice," he said, his voice lowered, as if he were speaking to himself. "I want a son."

Lin Qianqian looked at him.

"Isn't Ah Long your son?"

Lin Guozhu did not speak.

"Did you care about him after he was born?" Lin Qianqian's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a nail. "Where were you when he was hungry? Where were you when he was bullied? Where were you when he couldn't even get porridge?"

Lin Guozhu's mouth moved, but no sound came out.

"I don't want to say anything else." Lin Qianqian put down the chamber pot, wiped her hands on her clothes, and said, "I just want to live a good life with Ah Long."

She turned around.

"You can leave now."

The gate was closed.

"Qianqian—"

The shout was cut in two by the door. One half was outside the door, and the other half was inside.

Lin Guozhu stood there, looking at the door that was tightly shut.

He opened his mouth, but the words he hadn't finished saying remained unspoken.

The wind blew through the yard, leaving him alone outside the door.

Lin Qianqian entered the house.

Lin Yulong had just finished getting dressed and folding his blankets.

"Sis, who's at the door?"

"Father," Lin Qianqian didn't hide it from him, "I want to ask about the method for making poisonous potatoes."

Lin Yulong remained silent.

He looked down at the deformed pancake in his hand.

"No wonder."

The voice was very calm.

He was so calm, unlike a twelve or thirteen-year-old child.

He got out of bed, put on his shoes, and went to get a broom, as if nothing had happened.

But when Lin Qianqian saw him turn his back, her shoulders trembled slightly.

She didn't call out to him.

Some things, once broken, are broken forever. No amount of heartache can mend them.

She turned and went to the stove, then rinsed the leftover rice from yesterday.

The flames licked the bottom of the pot, crackling and popping.

The kitchen was quiet.

It was so quiet that you could hear the sound of Lin Yulong sweeping the ground in the neighboring yard.