This question had troubled Qin Guan for a long time back then, and he couldn't figure it out.
His father-in-law knew about his relationship with Qi Min. He knew, yet he never said a word.
After being discharged from the hospital, the father-in-law still lived in Jiayuan Residential Complex. The housekeeper, Auntie Feng, went to take care of him, while Xu Ruyi often brought Little Pear over to keep him company.
Qin Guan naturally had to go too. He was the son-in-law; both sentiment and duty demanded he attend to him at his bedside, no matter how unwilling he was inside.
Yes, he didn't want to go.
His father-in-law was already frail, and the surgery had made him lose weight. He could actually get up and walk slowly, but he stooped over, walking with great effort.
Xu Ruyi wouldn't let him walk much. She always helped him sit on the sofa or on the wide chair on the balcony, covering him with a thin blanket so he could sunbathe, read, and play with Little Pear.
His spirits seemed good, and his appetite was gradually returning—Auntie Feng was an excellent cook.
Everything was moving in a positive direction, except for Qin Guan.
Every single day, every single time Qin Guan stepped into that house in Jiayuan Residential Complex, his heart would instantly seize up, lodged in his throat, swaying uncontrollably left and right.
He feared his father-in-law would confront him, yet he also feared his father-in-law would never ask.
He hoped his father-in-law would give him a chance, send everyone else away, and talk to him alone—he had his excuses and apologies rehearsed perfectly.
He could admit fault, he could kneel, he could and was willing to do anything to make amends.
But his father-in-law acted as if nothing was wrong. He ate, he drank, he played happily with Little Pear.
Was he planning to let it go, to turn the page?
But if he was turning the page, why was he still ignoring Qin Guan?
Yes, ever since his father-in-law was hospitalized—to be precise, ever since he witnessed Qi Min drinking from Qin Guan's cup—he hadn't looked at Qin Guan once.
No looking, no asking, no acknowledging. Treating Qin Guan like air.
Leaving Qin Guan to stew.
To stew. Qin Guan felt every day dragged like a year. It was as if a blunt knife was slowly, inch by inch, slicing through his skin and flesh, forcing him to taste, every single moment, this excruciating pain worse than death.
He couldn't die, and he couldn't push it away.
The torment of that sword constantly hanging overhead, never knowing when it would fall.
This feeling—yes, this damned familiar feeling—was surging back from that filthy childhood home.
That old dog eventually rotted into fertilizer in the manure pit. No one ever suspected Qin Guan.
Even though, before the old dog "fell" to its death, it had hobbled after Qin Guan every day.
But who would suspect a child?
Especially a pitiful, malnourished child who looked thinner and smaller than his peers.
Qin Guan hadn't shown any abnormality either. He wasn't scared or panicked at all—such a dirty, stinking old dog didn't deserve to live in this world. He was just wiping away filth for the world.
He didn't go look at the manure pit.
Some classmates mocked him, asking, "Hey, Qin Guan, where's your ugly tail?"
He remained indifferent and unresponsive.
He routinely read calmly, worked, fed the chickens, fed the pigs, cut grass, gathered firewood, cooked, took care of his mad mother, and that useless father who practically lived in alcohol.
The death of that old dog only gave him a little peace and quiet; it didn't change his life in the slightest. The house was still foul-smelling. The stench of his father's cheap liquor, the smell of vomit, the reek of his mother's urine… all endlessly mingled with his father's curses and his mother's meaningless moans…
Familiar days. Countless, repeated, identical days filled with deep hatred, yet impossible to escape.
Late at night, Qin Guan lay on his filthy bed. The thought of the recently dead old dog never crossed his mind. He lay with his eyes open, staring at the pitch-black ceiling, breathing in the thick mix of foul odors around him, and once again entered the fantasy he wove for himself: leaving this godforsaken place, going to the world described in books, living a completely different life. A life without the filth, the stench, the curses, the humiliation, the beatings, and the seemingly inescapable poverty that surrounded him now…
Not long after the old dog died, something happened at Qin Guan's house.
His father, drunk, accidentally broke his leg on the way home.
The first decision the drunken father made after breaking his leg was to make Qin Guan drop out of school.
"Study what? What damn use is studying?!"
"Come home! Get home and work for me! Lazing around all day using school as an excuse! I've had enough of it!"
He vented all his resentment on Qin Guan.
Actually, the trigger was simply the barefoot doctor who came to bandage his leg pressing him to settle the debts from previous visits. His father couldn't pay, felt humiliated, and so became angry, agitated, and needed to vent.
His targets for venting were naturally the two "burdens" at home.
"Learned a few big words, think you're something, huh? What can book-learned people do besides tricking folks? Worthless! Studying? Studying's useless! Get home!"
Without listening to any reason, he dragged Qin Guan home from school.
Teachers tried to dissuade him, to talk sense, to plead. It was all useless.
"What? You wanna pay for his schooling? What's he to ya? Your kid?" That was his attitude towards the teacher too.
These words, insulting both others and himself, spoken by the drunken father, elicited whispers and mocking titters at the school.
Qin Guan couldn't bear it, couldn't resist. In the end, he followed him home.
Those were Qin Guan's hardest days.
No books to read. Only endless chores and unceasing curses.
The drunken father, unable to go out drinking because of his broken leg, became even more irritable.
He cursed constantly, smashed things. Often, while cursing, he'd grab whatever was at hand and hurl it at the frail Qin Guan or the mad woman who understood nothing.
"I'm ruined by you two idiots! You damn things curse me! I can't work now, can't earn money, it's all because of you two fools!"
He always called them idiots the moment he opened his mouth. He always claimed his life was dragged down by the two of them.
In reality, the money he earned from work never made it home; it was all traded for liquor and went down his own throat.
But he remained convinced that he supported the family, supporting two pieces of trash.
"You're both trash! Trash!"
He glared at Qin Guan with eyes red and blurred from alcohol, roaring and cursing, "Stupid thing, mute as a dog, never a peep out of you! I ask you somethin', you always got that damn look! What? Got a problem with your old man? I'm your father! How the hell did I raise a waste like you! Pure trash, and you still wanna study? What damn use is it? Even if I paid to put you through school, you'd still be trash!"
The mad mother moaned softly beside them, unaware.
"You too!" Annoyed by the sound, he threw a liquor bottle at the mad mother. "Moanin', moanin', like a damn pig all day!"
He spat, mocking and disgusted. "You were the educated young lady, weren't ya? So what? Damn useless! You're even more of a waste!"