Lin Jia—that name was given to him by his grandfather.

The man who was supposed to be his father never once called him “Lin Jia.” He always called him bastard.

Years ago, during a summer of endless rain, baby Lin Jia was abandoned at his grandfather’s restaurant. The place was always bustling with business, packed with diners coming and going. It wasn’t until near closing time that Grandpa Lin noticed the tiny bundle that had been left behind.

The baby didn’t cry or fuss. The moment he saw Grandpa Lin, he burst out laughing.

His biological parents never came back for him. Kindhearted Grandpa Lin took Lin Jia in. Afraid of gossip in their small town, Grandpa Lin always insisted Lin Jia was his own grandson. When people asked where the boy’s mother was, he would say she couldn’t stand living with Lin Jia’s father and had run off long ago.

Everyone understood. After all, the entire town knew just how awful Lin Dongguang was.

—A braggart, a drunk, a gambling addict. He spent his days holed up in mahjong parlors and sleazy foot massage joints. Whenever something bad happened in town, he was usually involved.

Lin Dongguang was like a malignant tumor in the household — growing more toxic and bloated as the years passed.

When Lin Jia was ten, his grandfather’s restaurant was used by his father as collateral in a bet and lost to loan sharks.

The restaurant his grandfather had run honestly for decades vanished overnight. The shock gave the old man a stroke, and he never recovered.

As a child, Lin Jia stepped up to take care of him.

He juggled school while pushing his ailing grandfather around in a cart to get medical treatment. He grew up on handouts from relatives and neighbors and learned early how to read people’s moods.

Their home life worsened, but Lin Dongguang didn’t care. He continued to indulge in booze, gambling, and partying. When he won money, he partied even harder. When he lost, he came home demanding more…

“Old man, just lend me 500 more—just 500! I swear I can make it back. My luck’s been hot lately. This kind of streak doesn’t come every day.”

“I know you’ve got some cash stashed. Quit hiding it.”

“I owe Boss Wu. If I can’t pay him back, he’s going to break my arm. You really want to see me crippled?”

After gambling for two straight days without sleep, Lin Dongguang was soaked in liquor. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of alcohol.

He rambled on endlessly while the bedridden Grandpa Lin said nothing.

“Fine. You’re really not going to give me anything, huh? Then I’ll find it myself.”

He stormed around like a headless fly, rummaging through drawers and cabinets, swearing under his breath.

“You damned old fool—only care about that bastard kid! Don’t even recognize your real son anymore. If I’m not happy, you don’t get to be either.”

He shoved Grandpa Lin’s frail body aside and even searched the bed the old man was lying on, tearing it apart for money.

Grandpa Lin toppled sideways, tears silently streaming down his face.

Lin Jia walked in just in time to see the scene.

He dropped the medicine he’d bought for Grandpa Lin and lunged forward, fists flying. He grappled with Lin Dongguang.

But Lin Jia was just a lanky teenager—tall and skinny like a tender green onion. Lin Dongguang, nearly 190cm, was a hulking adult with thick layers of muscle and fat.

The fight was hopeless.

Lin Dongguang, a thug with years of street brawling behind him, flew into a rage and started pummeling Lin Jia with brute force.

Lin Jia collapsed, limp and helpless.

Grinning with satisfaction, Lin Dongguang began kicking him.

One of Lin Jia’s teeth shattered. Blood gushed from his mouth as he gasped for breath.

“Stop! Please, stop!” Grandpa Lin wept as he pleaded.

Lin Dongguang sneered. “Give me the money! I’ll stop if I get paid!”

“No…” Lin Jia forced the word out through bloodied teeth.

Grandpa Lin clutched a pillow to his chest, his wrinkled face soaked with tears.

Noticing the gesture, a glimmer of realization crossed Lin Dongguang’s eyes. He marched over and violently yanked the pillow from Grandpa Lin’s arms. The old man struggled, wailing in protest.

“Shut the hell up.” Lin Dongguang slapped Grandpa across the head, then the face.

Dazed and stunned, Grandpa Lin could only watch as the pillow was torn open.

As he suspected, there was money hidden inside.

“Ha! I knew it!” Lin Dongguang’s eyes lit up. He spat into his hands and started counting the bills.

Grandpa clung to his pants leg, begging him to return the money.

It was 2,000 yuan in total. Lin Dongguang clutched the wad gleefully, texting his drinking buddies to arrange another night out.

Fueled by pure rage, Lin Jia propped himself up against the wall and stood. He spoke slowly and clearly.

“That money… is for Grandpa’s treatment.”

But Lin Dongguang swaggered toward the door, not even turning his head.

“What’s the point of treatment? He’s not getting better. If we hadn’t wasted money keeping that geezer alive all these years, we’d still have something left.”

The house went quiet.

Grandpa Lin’s face was still streaked with tears, his eyes filled with gray despair.

At the entrance, Lin Dongguang whistled as he slipped on his shoes, smug and carefree.

The scarlet cabinet by the door looked like blood-soaked flesh. The bright red bills for Grandpa Lin’s treatment sat atop it. Lin Jia stared at them, unblinking.

Lin Dongguang shoved the money into his pocket, grabbed the doorknob.

That was when something in Lin Jia snapped.

Bang. Outside, something struck the window.

It didn’t matter anymore.

He silently walked to the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife.

Then he crept toward the front door.

“AAAH—!” Lin Dongguang screamed as the blade pierced him.

He turned to look at Lin Jia.

The boy’s eyes were dark and dull, his bloodstained lips strikingly vivid. There was no emotion in his gaze—it was as still as a pool of dead water.

Inside the house, Lin Dongguang was fleeing in chaos, like a fish just hauled ashore, flailing its foul-smelling tail.

Lin Jia, holding a knife, closed in step by step, stabbing whenever he caught up.

In a desperate attempt to slow Lin Jia down, Lin Dongguang knocked over furniture, sending things crashing to the floor.

But soon, he had nowhere left to run.

Lin Dongguang collapsed to the ground, wailing and begging for mercy.

With complete dominance, Lin Jia straddled him.

“Die.”

He raised the knife high, the tip aimed at Lin Dongguang’s throat.

Just one final strike.

It was as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff—Lin Jia could feel the wind, feel the pull of death. All he had to do was jump. He had nothing left to hold him back. He was about to fall.

He steeled himself, and just as he was about to strike—

A beam of light from outside the window flashed in his eyes.

Following the light, Lin Jia met the gaze of a little girl outside.

She had her hair in pigtails, with a chubby, innocent face and clear, wide eyes.

The light came from the reflection off the plastic bottle in her hand.

Lin Jia recognized her—she was the youngest daughter of the Jiang family next door: Jiang Xiaochan.

She looked at him, then at the knife in his hand.

Blood was dripping from it.

Jiang Xiaochan made no move to avoid the scene.

Her gaze stayed fixed on his face, as if in a trance.

In that moment, Lin Jia realized—if he killed Lin Dongguang, Jiang Xiaochan would become a witness.

From then on, he’d be a murderer, and this little girl might never forget the scene of this crime.

—Was it worth it?

He wiped the blood from the knife with the hem of his shirt and looked away first.

He calmly laid the knife down. Lin Jia took several deep breaths, regaining control.

Then, looking down coldly—like a god judging an insect—he spoke.

“If I kill you here, your corpse will be hard to deal with. Your life is worthless. It’s not worth ruining my future.”

With that, Lin Jia released Lin Dongguang.

He stood up and walked toward his stunned grandfather, helping the old man back into bed.

But the conflict had already begun, and it was no longer his choice to stop it.

“You bastard!”

Furious and deranged, Lin Dongguang clutched his wound, grabbed the knife Lin Jia had laid down, and swung it straight at Lin Jia’s back.

“You fucker, I’m gonna ruin you!”

Lin Jia couldn’t dodge in time.

But the expected pain never came.

A plastic bottle came flying through the air, hitting Lin Dongguang right at the corner of his eye.

The man staggered back two steps, still gripping the knife, blindly slashing in Lin Jia’s direction.

At that moment, a small agile figure leapt through the window.

Thud!

She crashed into Lin Dongguang like a bowling ball, knocking him off balance.

He fell to the ground.

Just a moment of watching from the window had given Jiang Xiaochan enough to make a precise judgment. She had chosen Lin Jia’s side.

The little girl was brave and fearless—but still, the blade found blood.

The knife swung the other way in the struggle and, horrifyingly, sliced across her arm.

Jiang Xiaochan froze for two seconds.

Then she let out a piercing scream that seemed to shake the ceiling.

Lin Jia was the first to come to his senses.

“Jiang Xiaochan, you’re hurt!” he said.

She nodded, sounding utterly distraught. “Damn it, I made Jiang Xiaochan get hurt again!”