Chapter 71: The Era’s Beloved Scapegoat? It Doesn’t Matter, My Father Will Handle It 8

What a pity that little girl was someone neither her father nor mother cared for. Her father valued his reputation above all else, while her mother’s heart and eyes held only her niece, not her own daughter. It was as if the little girl had replaced Qin Zhizhi and Qin Sansan, becoming the expendable character in their story.

Qin Sui-sui no longer attended school, nor did her younger cousin Zhao Xiaoyan, who had also been pulled from school by her own mother and sent to live with the Qin family. The intention was for her to get close to Qin Sui-sui, to learn from her, to follow her example—find a wealthy boyfriend, marry into a good family, and one day allow her parents to enjoy a better life.

Word had spread among the Qins that Qin Ye and the Lius had returned. Every year, Qin Ye sent money home according to the village’s customary standard; at first, ten yuan a month, sent through someone else in another place, just to avoid having a group of troublesome relatives suddenly show up and ruin his mood. This way, the Qin family couldn’t track him down even if they tried.

Time proved that Qin Ye’s precautions weren’t in vain. Though he had officially cut ties with the Qins—and quite dramatically, at that—after he left, Liu Feng would explode in anger every time she received the ten yuan support payment he sent. In the past, the minimum was always a bit more—sometimes ten or twenty yuan—with a letter explaining the circumstances and a few gifts. Even then, Liu Feng would curse and scold him. Now it was just ten yuan, nothing more.

People say it’s easy to go from frugality to luxury, but hard to return. Liu Feng had grown used to her eldest sending money every month—a substantial sum, too. She could walk the village with her head held high, secure in the knowledge that money would always be coming in, month after month. That’s the difference between financial certainty and having none at all.

But now, Liu Feng’s confidence was gone. So, despite the fallout and the severed relationship, she still tried to have someone find Qin Ye. She was convinced that, in the end, parents are never truly in the wrong.

But she couldn’t find him.

If ten yuan hadn’t reliably arrived each month—and later, even increased by one yuan—the Qin family would have thought that Qin Ye and the two wild girls had died somewhere out in the world, without a sound. So when word suddenly came that the eldest and the Liu family had returned, Old Man Qin immediately ran to find his old friends to ask for news. After he’d gotten his answers, he returned home in silence, hands clasped behind his back.

At home, Qin Sui-sui and Zhao Xiaoyan were there, along with Qin Long. Qin Long neither tended the shop nor helped with anything; he spent his days drinking and playing cards, living quite carefreely. Just now, out of cash, he’d come home to ask his daughters for money.

Zhao Xiaoyan was busy in the kitchen, while Qin Sui-sui watered the flowers. She kept many plants on the balcony of the biggest, sunniest room in the house—her own. Every day, she tended to her flowers; as for other chores, she neither knew how to do them nor was expected to.

Zhao Xiaoyan, though younger, could do everything. If sent out into the world, she could not only support herself but probably raise a child, too.

Qin Long had met the benefactor from the story, but he still preferred a life of idleness. Working in the factory, people envied him, but factory work was exhausting and full of rules—enough to drive him mad. After a few days, he quit and returned home. His wife had just opened a breakfast shop in town, and with income coming in, he happily became a hands-off husband.

Outwardly, he claimed he had his own role—looking after their daughter so his wife could devote herself fully to the pastry shop. He took great pride in his contributions.

Now, seeing Old Man Qin return with a dark face, and unable to wring any money from his daughter, Qin Long couldn’t help but tease, “What’s wrong? The old lady from the next village won’t have you?”

“What nonsense! What old lady?”

“Oh, don’t pretend. Mom’s not here—she’s out visiting neighbors. I’ve seen you hanging around there plenty of times. If you didn’t like her, why do you keep strolling by her door, helping her with chores, buying sweets for her grandson? What, are you some kind of saint?”

Embarrassed, Old Man Qin tried to hit him, but Qin Long just pressed him into a chair. “Rest up, old man. The future’s mine.”

Qin Long, ever opportunistic, frisked Old Man Qin and actually found a few yuan in his pocket. Delighted, he left with the money.

Just before he walked out, Old Man Qin grumbled, “Your big brother’s back.”

Qin Long paused. “Is he doing well?”

“He dresses like one of those tycoons on TV, always surrounded by people who look like bodyguards. What do you think?”

“Did he come in a car?”

“I don’t know. That’s just what I heard.”

“Dad, you’re in the wrong here. There’s no grudge between father and son that lasts overnight. Whatever happened back then between you and my brother, so many years have passed—it’s time to let it go. When he comes home, you should welcome him enthusiastically, shed a few tears, let him see how much you missed him.”

Qin Long suddenly found reconnecting with his brother more important than gambling away a few yuan. After all, if even someone like him could become a small boss, how much more successful must his eldest brother be?

Besides, TV dramas are always showing long-lost relatives returning in glory, making everyone around them rich by association. Wasn’t this his chance?

He remembered how, as a child, his big brother always looked after him—even sharing his own hard-boiled egg. Their bond was deep, loyal, and true.

But Old Man Qin refused to budge; as a father, he couldn’t lower himself to seek out his son. With no choice, Qin Long cursed under his breath and left.

Outside, he quickly gathered information and hurried to Shitou Village to find Qin Ye. When he arrived, he was stunned by the scene: people herding pigs, carrying sheep, even leading a cow.

What was going on?

“Don’t you know? Little Liu An is arranging a grand funeral for his father and a splendid ancestral rite. Not just the Liu family—the Li family’s here too. All these people are here to help.”

“And the cow…?”

“It’ll be slaughtered for meat.”

Good heavens—no one ever slaughtered a cow for a funeral. Even sheep were rare; usually, it was just a pig, and sometimes not even that—pigs were expensive, after all. Yet here, they had pigs, sheep, and cattle.

Wait, Liu An…that name sounded familiar.

Someone recognized Qin Long and grinned maliciously, striking up a conversation. “Qin the Youngest, it’s you! Why aren’t you going to see your brother?”

He didn’t know, but they told him: “Little Liu An is your brother’s brother-in-law. Back then, your brother took him out into the world, and now he’s made it big. If your family hadn’t been so heartless, if you’d treated your brother a little better, wouldn’t that good fortune be yours now?”

Hearing this, Qin Long grew more and more unsettled. Indeed, he was his brother’s own flesh and blood, while Liu An was just a brother-in-law. If even a brother-in-law could do so well, what might he have achieved? His own daughter could have been a high-society heiress, like those in Hong Kong films.

Liu An had bought a great many things for this event, not only to make a grand display and show everyone his success, but also to deliberately exclude the Liu relatives from any benefit. That way, whenever they thought of him, their regret would gnaw at them—and that thought pleased Liu An immensely. He hadn’t forgotten a single slight or sneer from the past.

Qin Long watched in secret, growing angrier by the minute. All this should have been his: the villagers’ envious glances, the prosperity—every bit of it.

Just then, Qin Ye came out for a stroll with Qin Zhizhi, Qin Sansan, and Liu Hua’s twins. Sensing his chance, Qin Long sprang into action.

As soon as Qin Ye stepped out, a disheveled middle-aged man leapt from the roadside, eyes brimming with tears, and stared at him. In a melodramatic voice, like the heroine of a popular soap opera, he cried out, “Big brother, is it really you?”

Qin Ye was speechless—goosebumps rose on his skin.

Qin Zhizhi, alert, shielded her younger siblings and Qin Ye, too. Thanks to proper nutrition, even the youngest, Qin Sansan, now stood half a head taller than Qin Ye. The father who once seemed as tall as a mountain now looked so small.

Qin Long, favored by his parents, had grown to nearly one-seventy in height, and life had treated him well; he looked robust and somewhat intimidating. Zhizhi, sent to learn martial arts, seemed gentle and shy but was actually quite formidable.

So Qin Ye hid behind her, perfectly content, and watched Qin Long’s performance.

Both Zhizhi and Sansan were beautiful, fair-skinned girls. Even if Qin Long didn’t recognize them, it was obvious who they were. But he feigned ignorance, staring for a long while before launching into his next act.

“Is that you, Zhizhi? It’s me, your youngest uncle. I used to hold you when you were little.”

Qin Ye rolled his eyes. “Hold you? You barely bothered with your own daughter, let alone anyone else’s.”

As if he’d ever liked children!

Qin Long didn’t care about the rebuff; instead, he acted even more excited. “Big brother, you do recognize me!”

“I’m not blind, of course I recognize you. Though you’ve gone bald and turned into an ugly brute, you’re still hard to miss.”