Chapter 281

Wang Yan waited at the door for only a short while when Su Mingyu arrived with the child in her car.

As soon as the car stopped, the back door opened and the little girl sprinted over, throwing herself into Wang Yan's arms: "Dad, Xiao Mi's back home—she was crying so sadly."

"Did you comfort her?"

"Mm." Wang Lin nodded: "I told her to come to kindergarten with me, but Auntie refused. Then I told her to come back in two days and gave her one of my favorite toys—she stopped crying."

"You could go visit her too—just ask Mom to take you to Shanghai when you have time."

Wang Lin shook her head without hesitation: "No—I haven't danced or sung all month, and even these two afternoons—I can't fall behind the other kids."

Children are stubborn—there's nothing to be done. Wang Yan said no more, set her down to walk on her own, and asked Su Mingyu, who had walked over: "What's going on?"

"It's about the old family home."

"You want to sell it?"

"Mm."

"Do you want to buy it?"

Su Mingyu nodded: "Keep it as a keepsake."

"Use a middleman to handle the sale—don't deal directly with your dad, or he'll drag it out forever." Wang Yan knew it was almost certainly Su Daqiang wanting to switch homes—he just didn't know who had stirred him up this time.

"I know," Su Mingyu rolled her eyes, turned, and left the two of them behind.

Wang Yan exchanged glances with his daughter; the little girl stuck out her tongue, grinned, and tugged her dad's hand, skipping and bouncing after them.

Soon they arrived; Zhu Li opened the door: "You're here—no need to change shoes, come right in."

Even without sharp intuition or skill at reading faces, Wang Yan and Su Mingyu could sense Zhu Li's unease—it was forced cheerfulness. It wasn't as if she disliked Wang Mou—he didn't deserve that—but she should at least glare at him. Now, not even a single glance was exchanged. Clearly, this was an internal family conflict—not aimed at Su Daqiang, then, surely at Su Mingcheng.

Su Mingcheng, on the sofa, glanced up at the family's entrance, then returned to his phone, pretending not to see them. He couldn't fight, dared not yell, and had no argument to make—so he chose to ignore them.

Wang Yan didn't care about any of it. He picked up an apple from the coffee table, handed it to the girl—who, still holding a grudge, made faces and stuck out her tongue at Su Mingcheng—and sat her on the rocking chair by the window to munch on it. He took his usual seat on the single sofa, and Su Mingyu, fully aware of his feelings toward the Su family, quietly went to the back to tend to the child.

Su Daqiang, hiding inside, heard the noise and shuffled out slowly: "Mingyu, you're here."

The atmosphere was cold—no one responded. Su Daqiang didn't mind; he sat down on the sofa opposite Wang Yan. Behind him, Zhu Li took a seat beside Su Mingcheng.

"You all know what this is about, so I won't repeat it. I called Mingzhe this morning—he agrees to the sale. You know his situation—he can't come back to help me. I asked you all here because I want you to help me sell it. I'm old, I don't understand the ins and outs, and if I get cheated, it'll kill me."

Su Daqiang looked at Su Mingyu, standing with the child: "Mingyu, if you blame me, that's fine—I don't blame you. But no matter what, you're still part of the Su family. I'm old, I don't have many years left. Listen to your old man, Mingyu—stop clinging to old grudges. It's all in the past. Your mother's gone. You know as well as I do that I've suffered just as much as you."

Wang Yan sat with his legs crossed, watching Su Daqiang's heartfelt performance—it was hilarious. He just wanted to cling to the thickest leg possible—he'd been to America, so he knew Su Mingyu was the richest. He had nothing to lose by playing the old man card; even a sliver of kindness from Su Mingyu was profit.

But it was useless—he'd applied the effort in the wrong place. If Su Daqiang had won over Wang Lin, sitting there munching the apple, Su Mingyu might have forgiven him. Too bad—Su Daqiang had met his granddaughter Wang Lin only three times total: this one, plus the time Zhao Meilan died, and the food poisoning hospitalization—and he'd spoken fewer than three sentences to her.

They say grandparents dote on grandchildren, but Wang Yan thought Su Daqiang was still a boy-lover—just not as extreme as Zhao Meilan. After all, in Su Mingyu's memories, Su Daqiang had once trembled while picking up a chicken leg to put in her bowl.

Su Mingcheng was in a bad mood—he still hadn't resolved things with Zhu Li, now this unwelcome crowd had shown up, and he didn't want to hear his father badmouth his beloved mother. He cut in quickly: "Enough, Dad—get to the point."

Su Daqiang shot his second son a glare—he'd been speaking so well, and now it was interrupted. He exhaled and said: "I want to move into a new house. Staying here disturbs you two—our lifestyles and habits don't match. I don't want to go back to the old home anyway—it's just sitting there wasting space. I've been out with a real estate agent looking at places, and the few I liked have already been sold. So I thought—I should sell the old home first, keep the money on hand, and when I find the right house, buy it right away."

He'd spent all afternoon yesterday thinking—he couldn't wait anymore. On one hand, he feared the house he wanted would be taken; on the other, he couldn't bear the losses from delaying the sale. In the end, he decided to do both: sell now, keep looking. The high monthly mortgage and the cost of a nanny were the real reasons he'd called Su Mingyu here—he hoped, prayed, that she'd take responsibility as a daughter.

He had indeed called Su Mingzhe in America ahead of time—this morning, after he'd figured it out yesterday. He'd wanted to call last night, but thought of the time difference, so he'd waited up half the night until morning to make the overseas call. Of course, before he went to America, he wouldn't have cared. Mainly, though he refused to admit it, he knew he was the main reason Su Mingzhe's marriage collapsed—he wasn't senile. He dared not push too hard. If he made Su Mingzhe snap, he'd have nowhere to cry.

After all, Su Mingcheng was useless, Su Mingyu didn't recognize him—only Su Mingzhe in America was making real money. He still counted on Su Mingzhe as a safety net—if Su Mingcheng and Su Mingyu failed him, at least Su Mingzhe could cover the mortgage and the nanny.

…………

Half a month after the divorce, Su Mingzhe still hadn't found a job. On one hand, he was stubborn—he'd been told by Wu Fei he couldn't find a programmer job? That he should become a blue-collar laborer? No—he'd find the right job, and it had to pay well. On the other hand, his family had shattered, his perfect life broken—this blow had left him depressed, unmotivated to search. Internally, he also felt some surrender—he might as well take the hard labor. But that contradicted his earlier stance—he was torn.

This inner conflict left him helpless. With marriage failed and job lost, his entire spirit collapsed—he'd become a full-time drunk, drowning himself daily.

He still called Wu Fei, saying he was wrong, that it was a momentary impulse, that he missed the child, that he longed for the past. But Wu Fei didn't indulge him—she blocked him outright. Only during the scheduled, contract-specified calls with his daughter did she let him speak.

Once setbacks hit and a person breaks, their thoughts turn extreme. After all attempts to reconcile failed, Su Mingzhe came to a conclusion: Wu Fei was a materialistic woman, an unfilial woman. Why else wouldn't she let him bring his father over to live comfortably? Why did she constantly nag him to find a job? She was selfish, materialistic—he'd misjudged her. She could share wealth, but not hardship.

As the sun set, Su Mingzhe, as usual, ate something haphazardly, lay on the messy sofa, drank, and watched TV—then the phone rang. He picked it up, saw the caller ID, and sighed helplessly. He knew his father was behind this—but again, he couldn't blame him. Still, his filial devotion had worn thin—he'd been so filial, it had cost him his wife and child. What more did he want? He was tired, but he answered anyway.

"Hello? Dad?"

Su Daqiang's voice came through: "Mingzhe, how have you been lately?"

Though he'd returned home a week ago and only called to say he was safe, hearing this caring tone still moved Su Mingzhe: "I'm fine, Dad. Everything's good."

"Did you sell the house? Found a job yet?"

"Almost—soon, I think. How are you, Dad? Are you doing okay at Mingcheng's?"

At the serious topic, Su Daqiang sighed: "You know—they work all day, come home late. Who has time to take care of me? Our lifestyles and values are different. I'm afraid I'll disturb their rest—how could things be good?"

"Dad, are Mingcheng and Zhu Li mistreating you? Wait—I'll call Mingcheng and give him a piece of my mind. No child should act like this—it's outrageous." Su Mingzhe instinctively put on his elder-brother tone, but then remembered—his father was what he was. He'd said the same thing when calling Mingcheng, and he and Mingcheng had fought plenty over it.

"No, no—they treat me well, they just don't have time to care for me." Su Daqiang quickly cut him off: "Remember when I came back from your place—you said you'd buy me a house and hire a nanny so I could live on my own? I've been thinking about that. It's a great solution. So I'm calling to discuss it with you."

Su Mingzhe fell silent for a long while, then said: "Dad, you mean you want me to pay for another house for you?"

Honestly, he didn't want to. That was then—this is now. Back then, he'd had that idea; now, he didn't. If he paid now for an average two-bedroom, the down payment alone would be over a million yuan—twenty thousand U. S. dollars. He could afford it after selling his current house—but he was in such a bad state, over thirty, nearing forty. Even if he'd sunk this low, he still had to plan for the future.

The problem was—he'd once confidently promised to pay. Now, he couldn't bring himself to say no—it was agonizing. But Su Daqiang's next words made him exhale in relief.

Su Daqiang said: "I know your situation—you're using money right now. How could I ask you to pay? Our old home's empty—you don't live there, I don't want to go back—so why not sell it? Then I'll have cash on hand. I'm just telling you I plan to sell the old home—what do you think?"

Su Mingzhe didn't hesitate: "Of course I support it, Dad. The old home's just sitting there—selling it to improve your life is a good thing. If you can't handle it, have Mingcheng take care of it."

He wanted to say something about keeping it as a keepsake—but to keep it, he'd have to pay… Keepsakes meant nothing now. His mother was dead, he'd lived abroad for ten years, had no plans to return—what was there to miss?

"Yes, I've been thinking about that. Another thing—when I buy a house, I'll have to take a loan. My pension's just enough to live on…"

Without waiting, Su Mingzhe cut in: "Don't worry, Dad—I'll handle the mortgage and the nanny. Just rest easy."

Su Daqiang laughed heartily, but said: "I'll talk to Mingcheng and Mingyu first—I know your troubles. If you really can't manage it, you can still pay the mortgage later. That's settled. Take care of yourself, find a job fast, and get yourself a wife to give me a grandchild. Phone calls are expensive—bye."

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Listening to the dial tone, Su Mingzhe swallowed the words on his tongue. He smiled helplessly, tossed the phone aside. He definitely wouldn't return—he'd lost all face, didn't want to be mocked. As for Su Daqiang saying he'd talk to Mingcheng and Mingyu—he pretended not to hear. The money would land on him anyway. He couldn't pay it all, but covering the mortgage and nanny was manageable. He stopped thinking, picked up his drink again, sought oblivion—life had no hope…

Su Daqiang hung up the phone, beaming. When Su Mingcheng ordered takeout for lunch, Su Daqiang brought it up at the table:

"Mingcheng, I've thought and thought—I've decided to buy a new house and move out."

Su Mingcheng was caught off guard: "What? Buy a house? Dad, please calm down and let us have some peace—where would we get money for a house? Aren't you comfortable here? What have I done wrong? Tell me."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Su Daqiang said: "I feel I'm a burden to you and Zhu Li—you both work so hard, and now you have to care for me too. As an elder, I shouldn't burden my children. I've decided—I'll sell the old home, add some money for a down payment, buy a new place, and live on my own."

"Sell the old house?" Su Mingcheng frowned upon hearing he wouldn't have to pay: "Dad, I just don't get it—why not just move back in yourself? That'd save all the trouble."

"I won't live in the old house," Su Daqiang slammed the table. "Stop talking. No matter what, I won't live there. The title's in my name, and I already called your older brother this morning—he agreed too. Mingcheng, I'm doing this for you and Lili. My being here disrupts your lives. It's better if I live on my own; you can visit me whenever you miss me, and I'll still be around to help."

"Fine, fine, if you want to sell, sell it." Su Mingcheng said. "But Dad, why not invest the money? The old house should fetch at least one and a half to one and six million. Then we can buy a villa outright."

Ten thousand yuan was manageable—Su Daqiang could risk it, since Su Mingcheng had his back. But over a million? Forget it. Even if Su Mingzhe could pay it back, it'd take generations.

"Don't even think about it. That money's for buying a house—drop it."

Seeing his father was firm and guarded, Su Mingcheng changed tactics: "Alright, I won't bring it up. So—who's selling the house? You do it yourself? Or do you want me to handle it? What's the plan?"

"Of course you sell it for me. I'm an old man—I don't understand anything. What if I get cheated? Oh, right—have Lili come along too. I don't trust you to sell it alone."

"Wait, why don't you trust me?"

Su Daqiang genuinely didn't trust him, but he still needed his son to do the work. Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea: "Lili came back to her parents' place over the investment issue, right? Tell her about this, and she'll come back." Inside, Su Daqiang applauded himself. Not only did this give him an excuse to bring his daughter-in-law home, but knowing Zhu Li, once she took on this task, she'd never let Su Mingcheng fool him. Perfect.

"That's right, Dad! I'll call Zhu Li right now and get her to come back." Su Mingcheng clapped excitedly, grabbing his phone to call Zhu Li. He'd already sent dozens of apology messages on WeChat—no replies. He knew she was waiting for money. Now this was a perfect excuse—get her back first, then soothe her.

"After you call Zhu Li, call Mingyu too. Tell her to come over."

Su Mingcheng froze, irritated: "Why call her? Does she even consider herself part of the Su family? Dad, wake up—Su Mingyu and that Wang Yan won't care about you."

"Mingyu may not recognize me, but I still recognize her. Selling the old house—she should know."

"If you want to call, call. I won't." Su Mingcheng hung up and dialed Zhu Li. She was reasonable; though their marriage was crumbling, they weren't divorced yet. She agreed to come home that evening.

Su Daqiang had no choice. After dinner, he called Su Mingyu himself. He couldn't get past two sentences before she hung up. Worried she wouldn't come, he waited hours, then called again. When she finally agreed to come, he sighed in relief.

………

Hearing Su Daqiang's words, Su Mingyu asked from behind: "What about the mortgage? And your living expenses—you'll need a nanny. Who pays for that?"

Silence. Su Daqiang didn't answer. He was doing it on purpose—waiting to see if Su Mingcheng or Zhu Li would speak up, or if Su Mingyu might finally feel guilty. After all, he'd already pushed his eldest son toward divorce—he'd rather lighten the burden if possible. But if no one stepped up, then Su Mingzhe would pay. He'd get his new house, no matter what.

Su Mingcheng wasn't listening at all—he was thinking how to explain things to Zhu Li. Zhu Li stayed silent too, waiting for Su Daqiang or Su Mingcheng to speak.

"Old man," Wang Yan looked at Su Daqiang across from him and smiled. "You called Mingyu over just so she'd pay? Shall I go over everything again from the start?"

Su Daqiang dared not pretend to be dead now—he knew Wang Yan didn't coddle him. Another lecture wouldn't matter, but he feared this kid might say something that would hurt feelings.

Fortunately, Zhu Li was sensible. As Su Daqiang struggled to speak, Zhu Li pinched Su Mingcheng's arm and spoke up: "Let's hire a nanny for Dad. We simply can't afford the mortgage. If the house is in Dad's name, the loan term is only a few years—the monthly payments are sky-high. We still have our own mortgage, plus we owe Dad money. Our salaries can't handle it."

Saying they owed money in front of Su Mingyu made Zhu Li feel deeply ashamed. Her resentment toward Su Mingcheng for investing the money—and tricking Su Daqiang into contributing—deepened further.

Hearing this, Su Daqiang nodded: "I'd never ask Mingyu to pay. I just wanted her to know what's happening—you're here so she has the right to know. For the nanny, let Mingcheng and Lili handle it. For the mortgage, let Mingzhe pay."

Zhu Li glanced at Su Daqiang. She wanted to suggest putting the house in Su Mingzhe's or Su Mingcheng's name—extending the loan term and lowering monthly payments. If they could manage it, they'd chip in part of the mortgage too, especially since Su Mingzhe's situation was so bad. But seeing Su Daqiang's intent to keep the title in his own name, she held her tongue. Better not to make it seem like she wanted the house—less trouble that way.

Su Mingcheng snapped back to attention after Zhu Li pinched him. Hearing they'd just taken on the burden of a nanny's salary, he said nothing. Though he thought his father was being a nuisance, this arrangement actually benefited him and Zhu Li—less chaos living together. He'd just treat the money as payment for peace.

Seeing the matter settled, Su Daqiang said: "Mingcheng and Lili, you handle selling the house. I asked an agent—he says it'll fetch over one point six million. But I want to sell fast, before someone else snatches up a house I like. I want to move into my new place as soon as possible. I don't know the market well—Lili, you decide the price."

Zhu Li replied: "Yes, Dad."

Wang Yan stood up: "Alright, the matter's settled. We'll leave now."

He'd figured it out—Su Daqiang was still hoping Su Mingyu would pay. The old man's plan was perfect—he was clearly bored out of his mind. He wondered if, after buying this house, Su Daqiang would run into another little Cai who wanted the property. If not Cai, maybe a little Zhang would do—con him hard, make him fall seriously ill, even die. Then he wouldn't keep calling to stir up trouble. Annoying.

"Mingyu, don't blame your dad, really," Su Daqiang called out as Su Mingyu passed by, holding Wang Lin's hand.

Su Mingyu stopped, turned to face her father, and smiled: "We're going, Dad."

Downstairs, the three of them walked toward the gate of the compound. Wang Yan said: "Should I arrange for someone to buy your old house—and the other rooms you sold before?"

Su Mingyu shook her head: "No, I'll find someone myself."

"Do you have enough money, rich lady?" Buying it all would cost at least four to five million. Wang Yan didn't know how much cash Su Mingyu had. Over the years, she'd never taken a cent from him—even when he offered, she refused. She earned everything herself. He had no idea how wealthy she truly was.

Su Mingyu teased: "You're calling me a rich lady now, and you're still asking dumb questions, Teacher Wang?"

Wang Yan ignored her and kept walking. But Wang Lin, holding one hand on each side, looked up, suddenly beaming and bouncing: "Mom's a rich lady! Mom's a rich lady!"

Wang Yan chuckled helplessly and asked: "Do you even know what a rich lady is?"

"No."

"Daddy will tell you—a rich lady is…"

Under the setting sun, their shadows stretched long as they walked out of the compound, laughing and chatting…

Watching the family leave, hearing the door slam shut, Su Daqiang turned, sighed deeply, and stared at the ceiling.

Su Mingcheng and Zhu Li said nothing, staring at Su Daqiang as if he were about to die from a breath caught in his throat. Only when he got up and walked back to his room did they exchange a glance—and finally exhale.

Soon after, before Zhu Li could confront Su Mingcheng, Su Daqiang put on his coat and came out, changing his shoes at the door.

"Dad, we haven't eaten yet—where are you going?"

"There's nothing at home anyway—we'll just order takeout. I want noodles. I'm going downstairs to eat. You two eat your own—don't wait for me." He finished changing his shoes, opened the door, and stepped out.

As the door shut, Zhu Li turned: "Did you get the money back?"

"No—it's the weekend. No one's working." Seeing Zhu Li rise to leave, Su Mingcheng grabbed her arm: "Lili, I promise—tomorrow, first thing tomorrow, I'll withdraw my shares. I swear, I'll do it tomorrow. Don't be mad. It's all my fault. I'll listen to you from now on, okay?"

"Really?"

"A hundred percent true. Ten thousand percent true. Just believe me. I promise—I'll work hard from tomorrow, earn money, make you plump and happy, make everyone envy you and respect you. I won't let anyone look down on you."

Zhu Li stared into his unwavering eyes, and finally smiled. She leaned her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm: "Mingcheng, hearing you say that makes me feel better. You know, since Mom passed, this is the first thing you've said that actually sounded right. I never asked you to be rich or famous—just work steadily, live peacefully. Tomorrow, get the money back. We'll pay off what we owe Dad first. That way, he'll have more for the down payment on his new house. Okay?"

She still wanted to give Su Mingcheng a chance. Though this time he'd disrespected her terribly, if the money came back, they could move on. It couldn't be ignored—but it could be endured. Practically speaking, at her age, divorced and remarried, finding another husband would be nearly impossible.

Su Mingcheng swore: "Alright. First thing tomorrow, I'll see Sister Zhou. Just trust me—we'll live well."

"Then let's order takeout. I haven't eaten either."

The couple scrolled through their phones, pretending nothing had happened, happily ordering takeout…