Chapter 282: Homeless

The next day, Monday.

Wang Yan's family of three went to work, went to school, and reluctantly went to kindergarten—life returned to its usual, quiet yet fulfilling rhythm.

On Su Mingcheng's side, Zhu Li had already left for work early; he, meanwhile, lingered in bed. When the time came, he groggily got up, washed up, packed, then sent fifty yuan to Su Daqiang via his phone, shouting loudly: "Dad, I've sent you the money for today's meals. I'm off to work—be careful, don't eat random stuff."

Inside the room, Su Daqiang scrolled through the housing listings sent by the intermediary, responding impatiently: "Got it."

Su Mingcheng smirked, quickly slipped on his shoes at the door, and left for work.

At the company, after hesitating at his desk, Su Mingcheng took a deep breath, stood up, walked to the manager's office, knocked, and entered: "Sister Zhou, I need to tell you something."

Manager Zhou was a middle-aged woman with short hair, narrow eyes, heavy makeup that couldn't hide her uneven skin tone and deep wrinkles. At the sound, she glanced up briefly, then returned to her work, waiting for him to continue.

Just as Su Mingcheng was about to speak, someone knocked on the door: "Manager, we're ready to leave."

"Alright." Manager Zhou replied, looking at Su Mingcheng: "Perfect—you're coming with me to the factory. Whatever it is, you can tell me there."

With no choice, Su Mingcheng swallowed his words and followed her into the bustling factory.

Watching the people coming and going, the forklifts hauling goods in and out, and hearing the hum of machinery, Su Mingcheng truly didn't want to leave—but he had already promised Zhu Li he'd withdraw his shares today, and a deep sense of loss filled him.

Manager Zhou spoke with the factory's supervisor, confirmed the progress, then turned to Su Mingcheng standing nearby: "Xiao Su, once all the equipment is installed and calibrated, you need to come over and supervise."

Su Mingcheng was still lost in thought when he heard this—he snapped back, clenched his teeth, and pulled Manager Zhou aside: "Sister Zhou, I need to tell you something."

"What's so urgent you have to drag me over?" Though she spoke this way, Manager Zhou still followed him to the side.

They stopped in a spot no one noticed. Better to suffer a quick pain than a long one—Su Mingcheng spoke directly: "Sister Zhou, can I withdraw my shares?"

"What?" Manager Zhou was caught off guard, her expression instantly shifting: "You want to withdraw? The money's already invested, the equipment's about to arrive—you want to withdraw?"

Su Mingcheng looked troubled as he explained: "I have no choice."

"What do you mean 'no choice'? This is just irresponsible."

"Sister Zhou, listen—I talked it over with my wife last night. This is my fault—I didn't tell her beforehand. After we discussed it, she says we shouldn't do this. She wants to keep all the money in hand—she believes every investment carries risk. You know I'm not the type to fight or compete; I earn money just to make my wife happy. Now that she's unhappy, this investment has lost all meaning."

"I understand your point. The withdrawal can be discussed, but I've been around—I have one thing to say to you." Seeing Su Mingcheng nod, Manager Zhou continued: "A man who has a career outside and treats his wife well at home is loving his wife. A man who has no career outside but treats his wife well at home is afraid of his wife."

Ignoring Su Mingcheng's displeasure, Manager Zhou went on: "You've worked with me in this company for years—how have I treated you? Haven't I always treated you like family? Haven't I always thought of you first when good opportunities came? This investment—you know how many people wanted in. Didn't I give you the chance? And originally, it was you who came to me first. I let you join out of care for you. The contract's signed, the money's paid. Now that the business is just starting, you want to walk away? Do you know how irresponsible that is? Think about it."

After finishing, Manager Zhou glared at Su Mingcheng and turned to leave. She had used both soft and hard tactics, appealing to their relationship on one hand and the contract on the other, all while feeding him a load of nonsense.

Su Mingcheng was a good listener; he took the advice to heart. As he looked around the factory, he replayed Manager Zhou's words in his mind, imagining the life he might have in the future. He wasn't trying to swindle his father, Su Daqiang, because he truly believed in what he was saying. Even though he knew it was a bit exaggerated, he felt it was achievable.

After a long while, Su Mingcheng gritted his teeth, clenched his fists, and pumped himself up. Manager Zhou was right; he couldn't be so irresponsible. The opportunity for success was right in front of him, and he had to seize it. If he missed this chance, he didn't know when another would come, and even if it did, he wasn't sure he'd have the same confidence. Besides, he loved his wife, he wasn't afraid of her. He just wanted to make something of himself and show everyone his success.

After thinking it through, Su Mingcheng went back to find Manager Zhou:

Manager Zhou looked at him and said, "When you were talking to me earlier, I could see you were really in a tough spot. Why don't you just..."

Su Mingcheng interrupted, "I think you're right, Sister Zhou. If I withdraw my investment now, it would be very irresponsible to everyone, and I can't do that. Besides, although my wife hasn't fully agreed yet, as a man, I have to make this decision. I believe that once this succeeds, she will definitely be proud of me and happy."

Manager Zhou patted his shoulder with relief: "That's the spirit. Come on, let's go back."

Su Mingcheng happily followed Manager Zhou back to the company, full of drive. He didn't tell Zhu Li right away, thinking he would talk to her when he got home that night. A cold phone call couldn't convey his passion, and he couldn't gauge Zhu Li's reaction on the other end of the line; face-to-face, he at least had a chance to talk his way out of it. Otherwise, what if Zhu Li really left him?

Evening came. After a day of work, Zhu Li returned home early, sitting on the sofa and scrolling through her phone. Since it was Monday, Su Daqiang was taking care of his own meals and wasn't home; he was likely out enjoying good food with that Uncle Nie.

She had waited all day at work for news, but there wasn't a word. She already had a bad feeling that Su Mingcheng was still determined to invest. Even so, she wanted to try to persuade him one more time, hoping he would change his mind and live a steady, grounded life. After all, they weren't young anymore, and a failed marriage had already caused them both significant pain. But at the same time, she was prepared for the worst—if it didn't work out, then so be it.

Su Mingcheng hummed a tune as he opened the door. Upon entering, he saw Zhu Li sitting alone on the sofa. As he carefully changed his shoes, he heard Zhu Li's voice: "Did you withdraw that investment?"

Having changed his shoes, Su Mingcheng leaned in toward Zhu Li with a fawning smile: "I wanted to talk to you, but I was busy all day and couldn't get away. Let me tell you, this investment, it can't be withdrawn."

Zhu Li frowned: "Why can't it be withdrawn? What did you promise me?"

"It's not about promises. I've already made arrangements with them, everything is ready now, and it would be too irresponsible for me to pull out." Seeing that Zhu Li was about to explode, Su Mingcheng quickly continued: "Don't get upset yet, Lili, listen to me. A man who has a career outside and treats his wife well at home is a man who loves his wife. If he doesn't have his own career and just dotes on his wife at home, that's being afraid of his wife. If things go on like this for a long time, you'll look down on me."

"We've been married for seven years, when have I ever looked down on you?"

"Yes, you haven't looked down on me for the past seven years, but one day you will; it always happens over time. Trust me, give me this one chance, okay? This time it's a 100% sure thing to make money. I really don't want you to look down on me, and I don't want that kind of tragedy to happen."

"That money includes a portion of mine, and Dad's money is in there too. I don't agree with you using it for this investment." Zhu Li was extremely helpless, restraining her emotions as she pleaded earnestly: "Su Mingcheng, I didn't ask you to promise me anything, nor did I ask you to treat me any better. Let's just live our lives steadily, work hard, and pay back the money we owe Dad. We should only do what we are capable of—can't you just take that money back?"

Su Mingcheng spoke in a low but firm voice: "I went back and forth to Sister Zhou, saying I'd invest, then saying I wouldn't—she's already annoyed. In the end, I decided to invest. I don't want to take it back, and I'm very optimistic about this project."

"Honey, listen to me, you're just not cut out for investing. Let's just stick to the work we're good at."

Hearing that he wasn't "cut out for it," Su Mingcheng became unhappy. He let out a long sigh and said: "Who knows if they're 'cut out for it' before they succeed in an investment? Look, since we got married, we've listened to you on everything, big or small, right? Just this once, trust me, give me a chance to prove myself. I think I can do it."

Zhu Li continued to persuade him: "It's not that I don't trust you; it's that we've been married so long, I know you too well. Isn't our life good right now? I think it's great. Besides, I'm not the type of person who spends money recklessly. I admit I have a little vanity, but I'm not someone who is obsessed with it. If I really were that kind of person, don't you think I would have just found a rich man when so many were chasing me back when we were dating? Why would I have chosen you, right?"

"What do you mean by that?" Su Mingcheng grew impatient and unhappy: "Then go find those rich men."

"That's not what I meant. I don't want to find a rich man. I'm saying that you are great as you are, and our life right now is great. Why are you in such a rush to make money? I was the one who was anxious about paying Dad back, I was the one who pushed you, but couldn't we just take it slow in the future?"

Zhu Li continued: "I know you want to be a man and prove yourself. Fine, I support you. Do the work you're good at, set your own goals and plans. Why do you have to do investments? You don't even understand investment risks or rates of return. You just listen to others' nonsense—they tell you to invest, so you invest. This isn't making money; this is losing it! And it wouldn't even matter if you kept it from me, but you even tricked Dad into joining you. Do you think that's right?"

"Doesn't it all come down to the fact that I haven't made money yet? If I do, will Dad blame me? Will you blame me?" Su Mingcheng said: "Sister Zhou didn't trick me; this is an opportunity many people want to participate in but can't. And I don't like you talking about investment risks and all that. Forget it, what's the use of calculating? Don't those people still lose money after calculating? I trust Sister Zhou, I believe this project will work, and I believe in myself."

"Why do you trust Sister Zhou, but refuse to trust me?"

"I trust myself. I feel like I'll definitely win this time and definitely make money."

Su Mingcheng's voice grew louder, and Zhu Li couldn't help but shout back: "How many times have I told you? Investments have risks. We can afford to win, but we can't afford to lose. We can't gamble with our lives."

At this point, it was no longer persuasion; it was an argument. Zhu Li felt completely helpless, unable to communicate. She let out a long sigh and said: "Su Mingcheng, there are some things I've been holding back for a long time, and today I have to say them."

Su Mingcheng grunted in response.

"It's because your mother protected you too well when you were a child, leaving you without the ability to think independently. You are a typical 'mama's boy,' which is why you never consider others' feelings in anything you do—you're too self-centered. When things go wrong, you always shift the blame instead of looking at your own faults. This time, you're blinded by greed. Why are you so stubborn? And to trick Dad's money? You're a grown man over thirty; I'm begging you, wake up. You need to be weaned. Can you please act like an adult?"

"What did you say?" Su Mingcheng's face darkened. Being called a "mama's boy" and told to be "weaned" made him unhappy. He frowned and glared at the teary-eyed Zhu Li: "Do you want to say something even nastier? So I'm a mama's boy, I haven't been weaned. Zhu Li, if you want to have it out, let's have it out clearly today."

"I did live off my parents, that's true, but who did most of that money go to? You know perfectly well, don't you? How much was spent on me? Wasn't it all for your clothes and bags? If it weren't for your vanity—buying everything designer, designer bags, designer watches—that little princess aura of yours was cultivated by spending my family's money. Otherwise, who do you think you are? I've been putting up with you for a long time; your words are too cruel."

Zhu Li held back her tears and gritted her teeth: "You've been putting up with me, is that right?"

Su Mingcheng stiffened his neck: "Yes."

When people are angry, they might say things in the heat of the moment, but it doesn't mean they haven't thought them before, using their anger as an excuse to let them out. Of course, it could also be the opposite, but that's a different matter. To Zhu Li, Su Mingcheng's words sounded like the truth.

"Fine, Su Mingcheng, you tell me clearly: how much of the Su family's money have I, Zhu Li, spent? You calculate the accounts for me."

Su Mingcheng shouted angrily: "I don't want to settle accounts with you! I hate settling accounts the most. Don't you think we've settled enough? Can it even be settled clearly? I'll just waive it all for you."

"No need. You calculate exactly how much money was spent, and I will pay you back every cent. From now on, you are you, and I am me."

Su Mingcheng paused, remembering Zhu Li's old words: "No withdrawing shares, then divorce," and turned to look at her: "What do you mean?"

Zhu Li choked out: "Su Mingcheng, if you insist on investing, we can't go on living together—divorce!"

Su Mingcheng's temper flared; he wouldn't coddle her, just as he had in the original plot: "I'm going to invest, and if that's it, then divorce!"

"Fine!" Zhu Li sobbed uncontrollably, stood up, returned to the bedroom, fetched her documents, and waved them in front of Su Mingcheng: "I've got everything ready. Tomorrow at eight a. m., meet me at the Minzheng Bureau." She stuffed all the documents into her small bag, didn't even glance at Su Mingcheng, changed her shoes at the door, and slammed it shut as she left.

Watching Zhu Li leave, Su Mingcheng painfully tugged at his hair, pounding his head in frustration… He wanted to chase after her but refused to give in; he understood her meaning perfectly—she was saying he was nothing, that he was useless, that she'd suffered by staying with him. Fuck it, let her go find whoever she wants. She said he wasn't cut out for investing—why couldn't he be? He would live well; he would make her regret it. Who needed whom anyway? Divorce—definitely divorce…

After clearing his mind, Su Mingcheng got up, changed his shoes at the door, went out to a restaurant, and ate something good.

Su Daqiang and Old Nie had dinner together outside and returned home; he didn't care that no one was there, humming a tune as he walked into the room, continuing to browse houses and inspect furniture, until around eleven p. m., when he put down his phone and fell asleep, thoroughly satisfied…

The next day, Su Mingcheng, having slept not at all, woke up, called Manager Zhou to take a day off, washed up, got dressed, and prepared to leave.

Passing by Su Daqiang's room door, Su Mingcheng paused, thought for a moment, used his phone to transfer fifty yuan to his father, and knocked on the door: "Dad, I've sent you money for meals—go downstairs and get breakfast yourself. Don't go out this morning—wait for me, I've got something to tell you when I get back."

"What's it about?"

"Just don't go out, alright? Wait till I get back. I'm leaving." Su Mingcheng snapped, changed his shoes at the door, and walked out.

Shortly after Su Mingcheng left, Su Daqiang opened his door, looked around confusedly, shook his head not understanding what his second son was up to, then wandered downstairs for breakfast.

The events unfolded exactly as in the original plot—Su Mingcheng still chose to leave with nothing. Of course, they had no assets except one house. In his words: "After the divorce, it's harder for the wife than the husband. We were married, Zhu Li treated me very well—so I'll divorce cleanly, like a real man." Whether this was right or wrong was hard to judge, but the sentiment was clear.

After all, his older brother Su Mingzhe had only settled for a fifty-fifty split to preserve his dignity. And in the original plot, Su Mingzhe had criticized Su Mingcheng's decision to leave with nothing, thinking it was wrong.

After completing the paperwork and receiving his divorce certificate, Su Mingcheng returned home with a hollow feeling inside. Before the divorce, he'd convinced himself well, but now that it was real, now that he truly felt the loss, the taste was far from sweet. Especially now, when it was only the beginning—later, when the woman who had shared his days and nights was gone, the crushing emptiness, loneliness, and isolation would be truly unbearable.

At home, the TV was on, playing sound, but Su Daqiang lounged lazily on the sofa scrolling through his phone. Hearing the door open, he sat up, grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and turned off the TV: "Spit it out— it's almost noon."

This time, Su Mingcheng didn't change his shoes—he walked straight in, sat on the single sofa, and exhaled deeply: "I'm divorced from Zhu Li."

Su Daqiang blinked in surprise: "Because of the investment?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean 'sort of'?" Su Daqiang frowned, then remembered the key point: "And the house? What's the deal with it?"

"The house goes to her. I'm leaving with nothing."

Su Daqiang wore his usual deadpan expression, his face sagging, eyes wide: "What? The house goes to Zhu Li? You didn't even consult me before giving it away?"

"Zhu Li treated me well, Dad—she treated you…"

Su Daqiang didn't listen to a word—he groaned and stood up: "What are we waiting for? What's left to say? Pack your things quickly—this house isn't ours anymore. What are you doing, staying here? Your brother divorced and got half. You're even more impressive—you gave her everything. Now look: I'm over sixty, three kids—one barely scraping by in America, one now homeless right beside me, and one who doesn't recognize me. What kind of fate is this? I'm raising my old age to the point of sleeping on the street? There's no way this could be worse…"

"Dad, what are you talking about?" Su Mingcheng snapped. "I never said I won't take care of you—how are you going to sleep on the street? The old house hasn't been sold yet—we'll go back there for a while, then move into a new place after we sell it. Simple."

"Go back to the old house? No way. You go if you want—I'd rather sleep on the street than go back there." Su Daqiang shouted angrily.

Su Mingcheng sighed helplessly: "Why? What are you afraid of?"

"I won't go back. Don't argue. I'm calling Mingzhe and Mingyu right now—they need to figure something out. I'm this old—I can't really be homeless. I can't really sleep on the street."

"What good will calling do? My brother's in America—he can't get here in time. And what will Su Mingyu do for you? If you don't want the old house, fine—I'll rent one, and we'll live together. Is that okay? You're going to buy a house anyway—just get by for now, alright?" Su Mingcheng didn't want Su Mingzhe or Su Mingyu to know—especially Su Mingyu. He didn't want her looking down on him.

"But I still have to tell them," Su Daqiang said, walking into his room with his phone. "Renting a place is still me living alone—you're at work every day, who's going to take care of me? I'll see what they say—I need to figure something out."

Knowing Su Daqiang's nature, Su Mingcheng gave up and sat down, stewing in silence. He was already heartbroken from the divorce, and now this old man was adding to his misery—damn it…

Su Daqiang didn't close his door. He sat on the small bed and immediately called Su Mingzhe in America.

Su Mingzhe was still drunk, not quite depressed, just lacking motivation—unable to decide what to do, just getting by day by day. He answered the call lazily: "Dad, how's the house situation? Everything arranged?"

"Forget the house—I'm homeless now. Mingzhe, can you come back to China? Help me sort out the house and take care of me."

"Dad, what happened? How are you homeless?" Su Mingzhe perked up slightly, asking the key question. He wouldn't return home yet—he needed to hear what exactly happened before deciding.

"It's because Mingcheng and Zhu Li divorced—he didn't even consult me—he gave the house to Zhu Li. How can we live in someone else's house? We have to move. Where am I supposed to go…"

"Dad, calm down—why did Mingcheng and Zhu Li divorce? Weren't they fine?"

"Is now the time to talk about that? Mingzhe, what am I supposed to do?"

Su Mingcheng couldn't take it anymore—he walked over and took the phone: "Hey, Brother, don't worry about me and Lili's divorce—I've got Dad covered, nothing will go wrong, just relax."

He repeated what he'd told Su Daqiang earlier, then hung up.

In the past, Su Mingzhe would've dragged it out—but his polished facade had been cracked, and he'd long held grievances against Su Daqiang, so he let it go. He wouldn't return home; distance meant less worry. Let Su Mingcheng deal with it. As for taking responsibility as the family head, maintaining harmony—fuck that.

"Wait, I hadn't even finished talking—why'd you hang up?" Su Daqiang grumbled, snatching the phone back.

"Dad, can you just give me a break? Can you stop making my life harder?" Su Mingcheng shouted, turned, and walked into his room to pack.

At this moment, Su Mingcheng especially missed his beloved mother, Zhao Meilan. If she were alive, things wouldn't have come to this. He didn't understand—how had their good family fallen apart? His older brother's family was happy, his career smooth—he divorced. His own small life with Zhu Li had been fine, joyful—and now he was divorced too. Why?

Su Daqiang was furious. What had he done to deserve this? He was innocent. He immediately began packing his belongings into the same suitcase he'd used when he went to America, and his small bag. Once done, without another word, he dragged his luggage and walked out.

Hearing the door open, Su Mingcheng rushed out to see his father leaving, helplessly raising his hands: "Dad, what are you doing? Didn't I say—if you won't go back to the old house, we'll rent one and make do for now?"

"I won't be a burden. I'll find my own place—you don't need to worry about me." Su Daqiang didn't look at him, struggling to drag his suitcase over the threshold.

Su Mingcheng was furious—extremely furious—scratching his head hard: "Dad, I'm sorry, alright? I shouldn't have yelled. It was my fault. But you can't go running off now—what if something happens? Don't take it personally, okay? Just stay put. I'll go out this afternoon and rent a place—I swear I won't let you end up on the street."

Su Daqiang ignored him completely, dragging his luggage out the door.

"Dad, wait—" Su Mingcheng had no choice but to say: "Dad, let me know once you're settled, alright? Don't make me worry. And about the old house—I'll handle it quickly." Unable to reason with him, he could only agree. He was an adult—he couldn't control him. As long as he knew where he was and what was happening, that was enough. Besides, he truly had neither the will nor the energy to deal with this difficult father.

Su Daqiang didn't respond. When the elevator arrived, he struggled inside with his luggage and rode straight out of the compound. For now, he didn't know where to go—he wandered aimlessly to the nearby park and sat in the sun.

After thinking for a while, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

"Hello? Mingyu, come see Dad quickly—I'm homeless, I'm about to sleep on the street. I'm this old—how can I endure that? Mingyu, you can't abandon Dad—Dad's in such despair."

"What else could it be? Your second son divorced Zhu Li—he gave her the house. How am I supposed to live there now?"

"When am I supposed to have lunch? I don't even know how I'll survive from now on…"

"I don't know where to go—I'm just sitting in the park nearby."

"You're coming? Great, Mingyu—I knew you wouldn't abandon Dad. Yeah, I won't move—I'll wait right here."

Su Daqiang hung up, satisfied, and continued sitting in the sun. He wondered if this might help mend and ease his relationship with Su Mingyu—make it less tense.

He admitted he had thoughts of benefiting from her—yet he was this old, what comfort could he really enjoy? He'd buy a house, someone would pay the mortgage, a nanny would be arranged, his pension was enough for living. Mostly, he just felt it was wrong to have a daughter who was estranged.

Su Mingyu had just finished work and was about to go downstairs for lunch when she received her father's call. She knew he exaggerated, that his stories rarely matched reality—but she still decided to go see him. Mostly out of curiosity: she wanted to see how Su Mingcheng, the arrogant one, had managed to divorce—and it was a joke.

She went downstairs, got in the car, and drove to the park near Su Mingcheng's home. Su Mingyu called her father and told him to come out and get in. Soon, she saw Su Daqiang, lonely and forlorn, dragging his luggage as he shuffled slowly outward.

Su Mingyu got out and helped him load the luggage into the trunk. After Su Daqiang settled into the front passenger seat, she started the car and merged into traffic. "What's going on with Su Mingcheng and Zhu Li?"

"I don't know the details. Maybe it's because of the investment," Su Daqiang replied offhandedly. "Just leave them be—what about me? I have nowhere to stay. You can't really expect me to sleep on the street, Mingyu?"

"Aren't you hungry yet? Let's eat first. Tell me what happened between them—why did they suddenly get divorced?"

"Well, Mingcheng's manager had a project and asked him to invest…" Su Daqiang droned on about the investment's full story, including how he himself put in 100,000 yuan: "Zhu Li opposed the investment, but Mingcheng hid it. That's how they started arguing. Zhu Li demanded Mingcheng withdraw his shares, but he refused—so they divorced."

"Oh? You invested too? Good for you, Dad—I never would've guessed." Su Mingyu couldn't help teasing. She couldn't tell if this was a scam, but she knew this investment was dangerous. After all, someone who knew nothing about finance, couldn't tell good from bad, just throwing money around—that was suicide. She had no faith in Su Mingcheng's all-or-nothing gamble. Not at all.

Even if he got lucky this time and succeeded, what about next time? And the time after that? The final outcome would inevitably be total loss. No one could be that fortunate forever. And judging from Su Mingcheng's reaction this time, if he succeeded, he'd try again—bigger, bolder—and sooner or later, he'd jump off a building.

Of course, she didn't say it aloud. None of it concerned her. Let him live or die.

"Where did you get that money? It was just after your mother passed away—Mingcheng and Zhu Li paid me back 100,000. Mingcheng said it was a good thing—money makes money. Plus, I signed an agreement with Mingcheng: if we profit, it's mine; if we lose, he pays me back."

Su Mingyu frowned, puzzled. "Why did they give you money?"

"Well, we did a household accounting earlier. Mingcheng spent the most from the family funds. Zhu Li felt guilty, so she agreed to repay him for everything he'd spent over the years."

"Really? How much did he spend?"

"Not much," Su Daqiang mumbled, unwilling to say. He knew full well it was the money from selling his daughter.

Su Mingyu shook her head. "Don't lie to me. They paid you 100,000 right off the bat—how much could it be after all these years? Tell me the truth."

Su Daqiang glanced at Su Mingyu's smiling face and stammered: "Fifty… fifty thousand."

"Fifty thousand…"

Su Mingyu froze. She hadn't known about this—but she knew Mingcheng had spent family money, she'd seen him ask for cash repeatedly. But she never imagined the number was this high…

She smiled, then fell silent. Su Daqiang sensed her mood had soured and sat quietly. They drove around until they found a decent restaurant. Su Mingyu led Su Daqiang to a table, ordered several dishes, and then resumed casual conversation.

Su Daqiang sighed. "Oh, Mingyu, how many years has it been since we sat together like this to eat?"

"How's the house sale going?" Su Mingyu dodged the question. "Any news?"

"It's only been two days—how fast can it go? Now that Mingcheng and Zhu Li just divorced, he probably won't have time to help me with the house. I don't know when I'll get into a new home."

Su Mingyu considered whether she should act soon, so Su Daqiang could move into a new home faster. She was definitely going to buy it anyway—whether now or later made no difference. She looked at Su Daqiang. "Don't rush. If you're desperate, the price will drop."

"I'd rather sell for less if I can get the money fast—I want to see new apartments. The ones I looked at recently have already been bought. And now I have nowhere to live—I'd rather sell cheap."

After a little more small talk, the food arrived. Su Daqiang devoured it like he hadn't eaten in three days—his eating was pitiful. Su Mingyu watched, torn between laughter and tears. "Didn't you eat breakfast? Why are you wolfing it down like someone's stealing your food?"

"I dragged that suitcase all that way—of course I'm hungry. Of all three of you kids, you're the only one who's ever been easy to deal with. Mingzhe and Mingcheng… I can't even talk about them. Mingyu, you've got to help me—what am I supposed to do?"

"You've got money, don't you? There's a hotel right next door—just rent a standard room. No cleaning, no hassle. Stay a month or two, then move right into your new place." Su Mingyu said. "Or you could just move in with Mingcheng—he gave the house to Zhu Li, so he's got to move out anyway. If you really don't want to spend money, just bunk with him for a while."

Su Daqiang was dissatisfied. "I left precisely because I didn't want to bunk with Mingcheng. And staying at a hotel for a month or two? How much would that cost? I can't afford to waste money."

Su Mingyu didn't care. "If you won't spend it, stay at a cheap inn. At least you won't sleep on the street."

Seeing this, Su Daqiang realized Su Mingyu had made up her mind to abandon him—she'd at least treat him to a meal. He wiped his hands, sighed, and said: "Mingyu, I know you're angry, I know you hold a grudge—but it's not my fault. It was your mother's doing. You know what life was like for me at home. Just you and me now—I'll tell you more."

Su Mingyu kept eating, waiting for him to continue.

"Your mother married me only for our city hukou. After we fixed your mother's and your uncle's hukou, she started hating me. Said I wasn't a man, called me a coward, said I wasn't good enough for her—she just flew off the handle for no reason…"

Su Daqiang went on, repeating the same story he'd told Su Mingzhe in the original plot—the old lover in Shanghai who was a doctor, the job offer, how Su Mingyu's unexpected pregnancy ruined his future. All of it. The gist was: Zhao Meilan didn't want this family—she wanted to run off with someone else, chase a better future—but Su Mingyu's unplanned birth ruined everything, dragged them into poverty, and made her resent them.

After painting this vivid picture, Su Daqiang continued: "All these years, I truly wanted to care for you, Mingyu. But all the family money was in your mother's hands. She made every decision, big or small. What could I do? I was just like you, Mingyu—your mother never treated me like a person. I had no voice in front of her. I never dared oppose her—really, I did it all for you. If the family broke apart, you three siblings would suffer the most. As a man, I just had to endure."

After listening, Su Mingyu ate silently, saying nothing. As he spoke, she stared into his eyes, trying to judge truth from lie. After all, Su Daqiang had lied before—she couldn't believe him entirely. But his eyes were cloudy, and she couldn't tell.

She gave up trying. Instead, she asked: "Then why don't you go back to the old house? After Mom died, you kept saying you were afraid. I always wondered—she's dead. What's left to fear?"

"That house is full of her shadow. I don't want to go back. I spent half my life being bullied by her—I don't want to go back and suffer again. I don't want to see her. I never want to see her again."

Su Mingyu stared at her father. She knew it was useless, but she couldn't help asking: "Dad, are you afraid of Mom because you did something wrong? Her death was suspicious—could it have something to do with you?"

"Are you accusing me of killing your mother?" Su Daqiang looked up at her, stunned. "That's a terrible injustice! Who have I ever harmed in my life? I've been destroyed by your mother. Can't you see that?"

"Then why are you afraid of her?"

Su Daqiang's voice rose. "How did she treat you? How did she treat me? Don't you know? We were both destroyed by her! You don't understand? I just want to live my last few years without living under her shadow. I don't have many years left—I just want to die peacefully, comfortably."

"Fine. If you don't want me to care, then don't expect me to. I'm not that old I can't move. I don't need you." Su Daqiang threw down his chopsticks, slapped the table, and stood up. "Give me my luggage—I'll find my own place. I don't need you." He turned and walked out.

Su Mingyu said nothing. She got up, followed him outside, retrieved his luggage, and watched him walk away without a backward glance. Once he was gone, she turned back inside and resumed eating, one bite at a time.

………

That night, after a long afternoon of work, Su Mingyu returned home. The family ate dinner as usual, took a walk, watched their daughter struggle with homework, soothed her to sleep, had their marital intimacy, and then embraced, preparing to sleep.

"Today I met my father."

In the darkness, Su Mingyu spoke.

Wang Yan held her close. "Mm. Tell me."

"Su Mingcheng and Zhu Li divorced…" Su Mingyu recounted everything from her meeting with Su Daqiang. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

After hearing the story, Wang Yan felt reassured—he'd never misjudged Su Daqiang.

As for Su Mingcheng's investment, Wang Yan guessed it was unlikely the manager, Zhou, was conspiring to scam him. Because any scheme leaves traces—it would eventually surface. And Zhou, being a manager, likely had decent income. Why risk it for a payoff so small? It made no sense. As for Su Mingcheng, he deserved to lose. His entire belief in the factory director was built on Zhou's word—he had no independent judgment. He just invested because he was told to. If he couldn't even do the basics, who else should lose?

Regarding Su Mingcheng and Zhu Li's divorce, Wang Yan guessed it was due to Su Mingcheng's overconfidence. According to his own words, it was a 100% guaranteed profit. He was confident; Zhu Li was just temporarily angry, temporarily confused. Once he succeeded, if he pushed hard enough, Zhu Li would come back. He thought this cooling-off period would help her. But he hadn't expected to run into a con artist.

About Su Daqiang's story, Wang Yan thought a moment and said: "To find out if it's true, you should ask your uncle. He's unlikely to lie—it has nothing to do with anyone else."

In the original plot, Su Mingcheng borrowed 30,000 yuan from his uncle because of the investment—and ended up in a huge fight. His version of events was the exact opposite of Su Daqiang's. Seeing Su Daqiang's demeanor, it was obvious he was lying—pure nonsense.

Therefore, this story, combined with Wang Yan's earlier analysis of Su Daqiang's actions during Lao Nie's hospitalization—delaying treatment and causing Zhao Meilan's death—makes him highly suspicious. The sequence of events matters: in the original plot, Su Mingyu first accused him, then he explained, then his story contradicted itself and was proven false, then his rescue of Lao Nie was orderly and logical. His motives here are worth deep suspicion.

But as always—if Su Daqiang denies it and sticks to claiming he was helpless, no one can prove anything. And Zhao Meilan's death has nothing to do with Wang Mou—he didn't care.

"Ask my uncle?" Su Mingyu thought. "That's a good idea. I'll go see him tomorrow."

Wang Yan knew Su Mingyu had never let go—she'd been too wronged. Even though Zhao Meilan was dead, the wounds were still fresh. Though Wang Yan's early presence had filled some emotional gaps, she still couldn't reconcile her feelings about her parents. He couldn't fix that for her—it was up to her.

Now that both Su brothers were divorced, the more they suffered, the better the audience's anger would be released.

He didn't care about Su Mingzhe. His midlife crisis was typical of the corporate world. That kind of guy? He'd never get through it. In America, if he could swallow his pride, maybe he'd survive. But if he couldn't, and sank further, he'd end up wandering the streets.

Su Mingcheng was later brought back by Su Mingyu—otherwise, he'd have been crushed by that manager Zhou. A junior employee challenging his direct superior rarely wins—and he'd never recover professionally. He'd probably leave the company and return to sales. But his sales skills were terrible. If they'd been any good, he and Zhu Li would've flown long ago—why end up scammed? Add his personality flaws, the string of blows, and his complete collapse—he'd fall back into poverty.

As for Su Daqiang, we'll have to wait and see. If a live-in nanny shows up, it'll save him trouble—he might even get scammed to death. If not, we'll study it further; he definitely won't be allowed to recover.

"I suspect what your father said is mostly contrary to what your uncle said."

After a long silence, Su Mingyu said, "I feel the same way."

Wang Yan gently patted her back: "Whether it's true or false doesn't matter—you never had high expectations of him, did you? Go to sleep. Don't overthink it."

Su Mingyu nodded verbally, but didn't fall asleep until after tossing and turning all night.

The next day, after the usual beautiful morning, Wang Yan strolled lazily to school with the little girl who kept glancing around and squatting on the ground to look at things. Su Mingyu went to the company, attended the morning meeting, then went to see her uncle.

On the other side, Su Daqiang, who had slept poorly all night in a small inn, opened his eyes dazedly, hastily packed his things, called Su Mingcheng, and headed over to stay with him for a while. He wanted to pay for a hotel, but it was too expensive—he couldn't bear to spend that money. After all, the over one hundred thousand he had was saved for buying furniture for his new home; he planned to start fresh with a new house, and lately he'd been wandering around with Lao Nie for hours, spotting many things he liked, just waiting to buy the house.

The result Su Mingyu got from her uncle naturally matched her expectations. After asking in detail, she returned to the company burdened with worries. The reason she was burdened with worries was that she felt her father Su Daqiang had spoken not a single word of truth—so naturally, she thought of Zhao Meilan's death, wondered why he had reacted so strongly, and what he couldn't explain.

But she didn't ask again; she truly didn't want to deal with Su Daqiang anymore. After all, they hadn't been in contact for over five years—it wasn't a big deal.

At Su Mingcheng's end, he mocked his worthless father, gave Su Mingyu a couple of sharp remarks as usual, then threw himself into his work with ambition. In the blink of an eye, three days passed—it was Thursday, and his nightmare arrived…

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