Chapter 102
"Every time Huan Mei opened the bills, every time she calculated how much money they had to spend on food, on clothes, on school, on a decent life, she would compare it to Huan Zheng's barely sufficient income, to his status as the number two that he never used, to his laziness that kept them poor even though they could actually be immensely wealthy if he wanted to.
'Do you see this, Zheng?' Huan Mei shouted one night, waving a sheet of paper filled with an ever-growing list of monthly expenses.
'This is all because of you! Because you refuse to use your brain! Because you choose to be a laborer instead of a teacher! Because you're too lazy to realize that this family needs more than just love and your lazy smile!'
And Huan Zheng, who was usually silent, who usually just yawned and scratched his stomach that didn't itch, at one point replied with a voice he had never used before—a voice that was loud, sharp, filled with anger he had long suppressed because he was too lazy to be angry.
'You think I don't know, Mei? You think I don't want to give you the best? But you don't understand—you will never understand—that if I reveal my identity, if I become famous, if I enter those great sects, then I will never be able to live peacefully again. I will be hunted, Mei. I will be chased. I will become a target for enemies you have never seen, never imagined, enemies who would not hesitate to kill you just to hurt me. Is that what you want? Do you want Huan Shu and Huan Yan to become targets? Do you want—'
'Enough, Zheng!' Huan Mei cut him off, her voice breaking, wet, like a harp string snapping in the middle of its most beautiful melody.
'Enough. I don't want to hear your excuses anymore. I just want to live properly, like other women. I just want my children not to feel ashamed because their father is only a laborer. I just want—'
She did not finish her sentence, because she didn't need to.
Huan Zheng had already turned away, leaving the room, leaving the house, leaving his wife and children, and going to a place he never spoke of—perhaps to cry, perhaps to sleep, or perhaps to forget that in the home he loved, he was never considered enough."
This situation grew even worse when Huan Shu and Huan Yan reached the ages of fourteen to sixteen—an age where teenagers begin to dream of the future, begin to want recognition, begin to want to be something more than just the children of a laborer living on the outskirts of the city.
Because the two girls began following sect teachings with extraordinarily expensive fees, amounts Huan Zheng could not even imagine, amounts that made him furious and firmly refuse, with a voice he had never used in front of his children, with eyes he had never shown anyone—eyes filled with fear, with worry, with the realization that he would never be able to give his children what they wanted, no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he sacrificed himself, because a laborer's wage would never be enough to fund dreams that were too large.
"No, Shu. No, Yan. You will not go to that sect,' said Huan Zheng, his voice firm, unquestionable, like a rock that would never erode even after being struck by waves for thousands of years. The cost is too high. I cannot afford it. You must enter an ordinary sect, like everyone else. It doesn't have to be famous. What matters is that you learn, that you can become good cultivators, that you can—"
'But Father!' Huan Shu interrupted, her voice high, filled with disappointment she could not hide.
'All my friends are entering that sect! They say that if I don't enter a famous sect, I will never be taken seriously in the cultivation world! I will never get a good job! I will never—'
'Enough, Shu!' Huan Zheng snapped, and for the first time in his life, he shouted at his child.
A shout that made Huan Shu and Huan Yan fall silent, freeze, unable to move or speak, because they had never seen their father like this before.
Their father who was always lazy, always indifferent, always yawning at the wrong moments, suddenly became something frightening, something unfamiliar, something that made them afraid—not because he would hit or hurt them, but because in his eyes, in those half-lidded lazy eyes, there was sadness.
A sadness so deep, so absolute, so crushing that they felt they had made a terrible mistake, a mistake they would never be able to fix, even if they apologized a thousand times.
"Father can't, Shu. Father can't give you what you ask for. Father can only give the best that he has, and that—"
He stopped, swallowing as if swallowing a thorn stuck in his throat, and for a moment, he looked very old, very tired, very broken, like a man who had struggled his entire life but was never enough, never enough, never enough.
"… That was never enough for you, was it?"
Huan Shu and Huan Yan did not answer.
They simply remained silent, staring at their father with eyes filled with disappointment, anger, and a sense of injustice they could not express in words, because they were still too young, too unstable, too selfish to understand that behind their father's refusal lay fear, worry, and love that could not be expressed in any other way than by saying "no."
Because "no" was the only thing he could give, the only thing that would not endanger them, the only thing that would ensure they remained safe, even if safe meant never becoming famous, never becoming rich, never becoming anything in the eyes of the world.
"And from that moment on, Ling Xu—from the moment Huan Zheng refused Huan Shu and Huan Yan's request to enter a famous sect, from the moment he shouted at them for the first time, from the moment he showed that he was not a father who could give everything, not a hero who could grant every dream—the two girls began to change. They no longer smiled when their father came home. They no longer greeted him warmly in the morning. They no longer kissed his hand before going to sleep. They only stayed silent, or left, or locked themselves in their rooms, refusing to speak, refusing to eat together, refusing to acknowledge that the man lying weak on the ground with a pale face and closed eyes was their father. The man who had struggled his entire life for them, the man who was never enough but always tried, always tried, always tried—yet in the end, his efforts were never appreciated, never seen, never understood, because he was too lazy to explain, because he was too indifferent to defend himself, because he preferred silence and accepting hatred rather than arguing and losing his family forever."
To be continued…