Not long after, the fat man came back as well.

Yang Rong recognized Yun Jie and the fat man—they were neighbors of Yu Xifeng back then—and felt a bitter anger rise in his heart.

She was with these meaningless people but didn’t even care about her own real father.

“Three years predict old age,” Qingrou was right.

Yu Xifeng had been cold and heartless since childhood.

He had lived until now, yet only had such a daughter who didn’t acknowledge family ties left.

Yang Rong thought this inside and showed it on his face: “Yu Xifeng, have you thought it through? I am your real father. If you keep messing around with these people, I will disown you as my daughter.”

Yu Xifeng glanced at him, took a piece of dried sweet potato from beside the stove, and said, “You talk as if I really have a father.”

Yang Rong’s eyes fixed on the dried sweet potato in Yu Xifeng’s hand as he swallowed hard.

“You seem to never understand what I say,” Yu Xifeng said. “I already warned you last time.”

“Just listen to your tone when you talk to your elder,” Yang Rong, despite telling himself to be patient and coax Yu Xifeng a little, still got fired up by him: “What are you doing hanging out with these no-good people? I’m your father, and I’m doing this for your own good.”

Yu Xifeng said, “I told you before: next time I see you, I’ll beat Yang Silong up. Now your son’s dead, do you think I won’t dare hit you?”

Yu Xifeng grabbed his Tang sword, stood up, and walked out of the tent, the sword wind slicing through the air.

Yang Rong’s scarf tore with a big rip; in that instant, the coldness made Yang Rong unable to tell whether it was cold wind or the blade.

She truly wanted to kill him.

Yang Rong looked at Yu Xifeng’s daughter like she was looking at a monster.

If the blade shifted even slightly, or his hand trembled, it could slice her throat.

This was a madman.

Yang Rong’s hateful gaze stunned Yu Xifeng for a moment.

So this person could still provoke her emotions.

Yu Xifeng looked down at the sword in his hand.

Every part of this Tang sword matched his feelings exactly—size and weight just right. But at this moment, Yu Xifeng couldn’t bring himself to thrust it into Yang Rong’s throat.

Since she was very young, she had been wary of the schemes from Xu Qingrou.

In countless days and nights, Xu Qingrou openly and secretly blamed her.

She envied Yang Sizhu; she thought Yang Sizhu had taken away her father.

After Yang Silong bullied her, she also spent money to have some small thugs beat Yang Silong up.

But she didn’t hate Xu Qingrou.

She shouldn’t hate Xu Qingrou.

If it weren’t for Yang Rong, Xu Qingrou and she would be strangers; if they met, she would call Xu Qingrou aunt.

Her long childhood, her bleak past life, all traced back to this hypocritical man.

This man was actually her biological father.

If she pushed a little further back,

Yang Rong was nothing but an ordinary person powerless to resist.

Push a little further,

She could have sent Yang Rong straight to hell.

Some parents are a harbor for their children’s whole lives; some parents are a lifelong enemy.

Yu Xifeng wished he were dead.

But she didn’t want him to die by her own hand.

At this moment, Yu Xifeng’s hatred for Yang Rong peaked.

She hated herself more for not being able to bring herself to do it.

How much longer would this man continue to disgust her?

Old man Cai said, “Yu Xifeng, come back.”

Yu Xifeng didn’t move. She stared at Yang Rong, thinking about a lot in that moment.

When Xu Qingrou drugged her during the high school entrance exam, when Xu Qingrou didn’t pay her tuition, when Xu Qingrou introduced her to a rapist, when Xu Qingrou kicked her out of the house—

She had all once expected something from this biological father.

Just like Yang Rong said, she was his daughter.

Back then, she also thought, Yang Rong was her dad.

Old man Cai stepped forward, his withered fist shot out, and Yang Rong flew back more than a meter.

Yang Rong tried to get up, struggled twice, but couldn’t rise.

Yu Xifeng loosened her grip; the sword dropped to the ground.

Zhang Qiu, Yun Jie, and the fat man all gathered around.

But Yu Xifeng had no trace of life energy; she stood still, eyes empty, like a lost wandering soul.

No origin, no homecoming.

Zhang Qiu’s heart tightened.

Yang Rong spat two mouthfuls of blood on the ground, eyes full of hatred: “Yu Xifeng, may you die a terrible death.”

Old man Cai sighed, picked up the sword Yu Xifeng dropped, and said, “I’ll take over. You’re still a child.”

Yu Xifeng said nothing.

Yun Jie and Zhang Qiu half-dragged, half-pulled Yu Xifeng back into the tent.

Zhang Qiu said, “You drank, stayed outside too long, drink some hot water.”

Yu Xifeng held the hot water but didn’t drink.

She didn’t want to go out for a second bathroom trip.

Yun Jie didn’t either.

After a while, old man Cai came in, and Yu Xifeng noticed the sword had no blood.

Yu Xifeng asked, “Is he dead?”

Old man Cai said, “I don’t know. Anyway, he didn’t die by your hand.”

That was good.

That was better than good.

Yu Xifeng raised her head, sniffed, “Old man, thank you.”

“I’m old; who knows when I’ll kick the bucket. Can’t teach you much else, at least I gave you a mental barrier,” old man Cai said.

No one mentioned it again.

In the afternoon, taking advantage of the sun’s weak warmth, they burned coal to the hottest and squeezed together to take turns sleeping.

The sleep was miserable.

Less than twenty minutes, they had to be woken to check if anyone was dead.

Five people all found the faces of the others who woke them utterly hateful.

The daytime warmth vanished in a blink.

Broken and fragmented, each slept about two hours.

Their complexions worsened.

The sun set; cold numbness crept in.

They kept enduring like hawks.

They cooked some flatbread noodles again in the middle.

Only when eating did they feel alive.

Yun Jie tried to replicate a set of mahjong with frozen earth blocks.

Unfortunately, such rough mahjong tiles meant after two rounds, everyone knew most of the tiles.

Looking at the dealer’s hand was like seeing open cards.

Yu Xifeng reached into her bag, took out a deck of playing cards from her space, and threw them on the ground.

Fat man said, “Why didn’t you bring this out sooner?”

Yu Xifeng yawned, “Forgot.”

Yu Xifeng, Zhang Qiu, fat man, and Yun Jie played.

Old man Cai was a master strategist but had no virtue of watching silently.

He watched three hands at once, gesturing wildly.

At first, he respected the elders and young.

After two rounds of enduring, the four teamed up and chased old man Cai aside, taking his little handkerchief wrapped around cigarettes.

They played a few more rounds.

Yu Xifeng once was the landlord, bringing Zhang Qiu and fat man, but couldn’t beat Yun Jie as the farmer.

Zhang Qiu said, “Fat man, you must be the mole.”

Fat man said, “What nonsense are you talking about? How could I help Yun Jie?”

The three chased Yun Jie out and invited old man Cai back.

This time it was finally evenly matched.

Yun Jie^[1]Sister laughed while watching.

They managed to get through the night this way.

Everyone was slumped this way and that.

Old man Cai lit a cigarette and took a blissful drag.

Zhang Qiu said, “Look at you, good-for-nothing.”

Old man Cai inhaled deeply, “You little bastard, what do you know?”