Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Zhou Haibing's chest is filled with more than forty years of memories, more than forty years of resentment, more than forty years of disappointment with his father and heartache for his sister.

He picked up a cornbread, took a bite, and started eating.

Looking at the tempting pork, Zhou Haiqing picked up his chopsticks and timidly reached out to eat.

Her chopsticks tip carefully reached for a piece of meat—

That was one of the last few slices of lean and fatty meat on the plate, glistening with oil and looking delicious.

Just as her chopsticks picked up the piece of meat, another pair of chopsticks suddenly reached out from the side and snapped her chopsticks away, firmly picking up the piece of meat.

Zhou Haiqing's hand twitched slightly; the chopsticks were empty.

She looked up and saw her father putting the piece of meat into Zhou Hailong's bowl.

Zhou Fuxiang put down his chopsticks, glanced at Zhou Haiqing expressionlessly, and spoke in a cold tone, as if he were reprimanding a disobedient cat:

"You're just a little girl, you don't do any heavy work, why are you eating meat? Give the meat to your second brother, he has to work every day, he needs to strengthen his body."

Zhou Haiqing lowered his head, his lips pressed tightly together.

She dared not argue, nor dared she cry; she simply picked up a piece of potato with her chopsticks, put it in her mouth, and chewed it slowly.

She chewed very slowly, her eyes welling up with tears, but she blinked hard a few times and they didn't fall.

Zhou Hailong looked up, grease on his lips, and raised an eyebrow at Zhou Haiqing.

His expression was both smug and contemptuous, and he chewed the meat in his mouth with a crunching sound, as if he was deliberately amplifying the sound for her to hear.

Zhou Haibing's temper flared up immediately.

It wasn't the kind of fire that slowly accumulates and gradually builds up; it was the kind of fire that shot from the soles of his feet all the way to the top of his head, erupting in an instant and making his scalp tingle.

He suddenly reached out and grabbed the remaining plate of stir-fried potatoes and pork from the table, holding the entire plate in his hand.

He tilted the plate to the side, taking all the food from it—

Those scraps of meat, those potato chunks, that glistening, oily juice—

It was all poured into Zhou Haiqing's bowl.

Zhou Haiqing's bowl was full in no time, with potatoes and slices of meat piled up into a small mound, and oil dripping down the rim of the bowl onto the table, leaving several round oil spots.

The main room fell silent.

Zhou Fuxiang's mouth was agape, his chopsticks were suspended in mid-air, and his eyes were wide open, as if he had seen something he couldn't understand at all.

Zhou Hailong's mouth was also open, with half a piece of unchewed meat still inside, glistening with oil on his lips.

But his expression had frozen, and his eyes rolled around in their sockets, as if to confirm that he hadn't seen wrong.

Zhou Haiqing also had his mouth open.

Her gaze shifted from the full bowl of stir-fried potatoes and meat to Zhou Haibing's face, then back to the bowl. Her lips trembled several times, as if she wanted to say something, but she couldn't utter a single word.

Zhou Fuxiang was the first to react.

He slammed his chopsticks on the table with a sharp crack, and stood up abruptly. His voice was loud and deep, like the growling of an enraged bull.

"Sea ice! What are you doing?!"

Zhou Hailong also realized what was happening. He forgot about the half-eaten piece of meat in his mouth, choked as he swallowed, coughed twice, and his voice was urgent and sharp:

"Big brother! Are you crazy? Why did you give all the meat to your little sister? I'm not full yet!"

Zhou Haibing put the empty plate back on the table with a soft "thump," then looked up at his father and second brother with a blank expression.

His eyes were calm, but the calm was different from his previous docility. It was a calm without any ripples, like the surface of a frozen lake, so calm that it made people's hearts tremble.

"This pound of pork and those five pounds of potatoes are what I got in exchange for treating someone in Wangjiazhuang today."

Zhou Haibing's voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear and distinct, like nails hammered into a table.

"I earned this through my own abilities, and I can give it to whomever I want."

Zhou Fuxiang's face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulged, and he poked at Zhou Haiqing's overflowing rice bowl with his fingers, his voice loud and urgent:

"Everyone else hasn't finished eating yet! Why did you dump all the food on her? You're wasting food!"

Zhou Haibing glanced at his father, his voice still neither loud nor soft:

"You two have eaten most of the food on the plate. Is there a problem with giving the little bit left to the younger sister?"

The two of you together ate more than three times the amount of meat as your little sister.

She hasn't had any meat in over half a year, what's wrong with me letting her eat a few pieces?

Zhou Fuxiang was speechless. He opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but couldn't find the words.

His lips moved twice, and finally, he squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth, his voice cold and hard, as if repeating a principle he had believed in all his life:

"Hai Qing is a girl, a money-loser. Giving her meat is a waste! She'll belong to someone else's family sooner or later. As long as she has food to eat and doesn't starve, that's enough. Why feed her so well?"

After saying that, he suddenly reached out and grabbed Zhou Haiqing's rice bowl.

Zhou Haibing's hands were faster than his.

He suddenly sprang up from his chair, one hand blocking his sister's rice bowl, and the other hand precisely grabbing Zhou Fuxiang's outstretched wrist.

He didn't use much force, but he held on firmly, his five fingers gripping his father's wrist like iron clamps.

He leaned forward slightly, bringing his face less than two feet away from his father, his gaze meeting his father's eyes directly.

There was no anger or excitement in his eyes, only an icy, unwavering determination that seemed to come from a great distance.

"Dad," his voice was heavy, "take your hand back."

Zhou Fuxiang's expression changed.

He had seen Zhou Haibing angry, seen Zhou Haibing aggrieved, and seen Zhou Haibing secretly wiping away tears, but he had never seen Zhou Haibing look at him with such eyes.

There was no fear, no hesitation, and none of the yielding that used to come from "Dad, I was wrong, I'll listen to you."

It was a look in his eyes that said he had made up his mind, one that no one could change, and one that left no room for negotiation.

Zhou Fuxiang withdrew his hand.

His lips trembled a few times, moved slightly, but ultimately he didn't utter a single word and shrank back into his seat.

He picked up the rough porcelain bowl on the table, lowered his head and took a sip of water, without looking up at Zhou Haibing or at Zhou Haiqing's overflowing bowl of stir-fried potatoes and meat.

Zhou Hailong also shrank back.

He cowered even faster than Zhou Fuxiang. Seeing that his elder brother dared to confront their father head-on, his usual arrogance, which relied on his father's support, vanished instantly.

He lowered his head, picking at the last few pieces of meat in his bowl with his chopsticks, chewing silently, his eyes darting away, not daring to look in Zhou Haibing's direction.