Chapter 498

After uttering that somewhat unfilial remark, Wei Anping felt an inexplicable sense of relief.

The old ghost chuckled: “True scholar—you even curse with such civility.”

Wei Anping retorted: “I’ve served in the military too.”

The old ghost: “Then you could curse even harder—call me not even human. That’s the only way to vent.”

“I won’t curse you,” Wei Anping said, not stupid. “I’ll say you kill eight hundred of your own to defeat eight hundred.”

The old ghost: “Then let’s go upstairs. Don’t keep everyone waiting.”

Wei Anping frowned slightly: “That’s it? Don’t you have anything to explain to me?”

And shouldn’t you at least show some remorse? You’re already forty—middle-aged, yet you’ve spent your whole life believing you’re a posthumous child with no father!

The old ghost: “Oh, that’s a long story. These fried chickens are probably cold by now. You’ve got to eat them hot—they taste awful when cold. Let’s finish eating and head to the rooftop to talk.”

He walked ahead. Wei Anping could only follow reluctantly.

During the elevator ride, Wei Anping stared fixedly at the old ghost, hoping to catch a flicker of guilt on his face—but there was none. The old ghost’s gaze held nothing but paternal affection, making Wei Anping feel physically nauseous, his skin crawling with goosebumps. He turned to the elevator ads instead, only to find yet another breast-enhancement ad—making him even more awkward.

Upon entering the apartment upstairs, Lin Ni said: “We’ve been waiting for you. How should we cook this fish?”

The old ghost rolled up his sleeves: “I’ll do it—steam it. Where’s Amin?”

“She says she’s already eaten.”

Zhou Huimin had already crawled into bed. Li Zhi’s words had not affected her mood in the slightest—in fact, she was glad.

Because from Li Zhi’s remarks, it was clear she and Aming were still pure.

They still hadn’t crossed any physical line. Li Zhi’s temptation was immense—so my Aming really is quite virtuous after all.

My new album and music video are about to be officially released. The world will see just how much Aming loves me.

Upstairs, after the meal began, the old ghost first placed a piece of his own steamed grouper onto Wei Anping’s plate: “Try it. You won’t find this fish often on the mainland.”

Wei Anping’s heart stirred. He remembered childhood meals at his uncle’s house—when something delicious was served, this man always gave him the first bite.

Back then, he’d assumed it was just hospitality, or because he was the youngest. Now he wondered: perhaps that first bite meant something deeper.

Was it compensation?

And every time he went out with Jiefang, he’d always tell Jiefang to take care of his younger brother. But Jiefang rarely did—so Jiefang was beaten countless times since childhood.

Yet back then, Wei Anping envied Jiefang’s bruised buttocks—because he believed those beatings were his father’s love, something he could never have.

As he ate, Wei Anping thought of his beautiful, fragile mother. His own grievances didn’t matter—but what of her? What role did she play in his heart?

Had he ever truly felt anything for her?

Wei Anping finished eating first and sat waiting for the old ghost to take him to the rooftop.

“Ah, full! Anping, come on, let’s go for a walk,” the old ghost said, rising—he’d already prepared his words.

“I’m coming too!” Xi Zi raised his hand, chewing a chicken wing.

Wei Anping shoved another wing into his hand: “Just eat.”

“Then I’ll come with you…” Wei Jiefang also wanted to join.

The old ghost laughed: “We’re discussing national affairs—you’re not cleared for that level.”

Wei Hong said to her father and little aunt: “Only Wei Ting can do this.”

On the rooftop, the old ghost hadn’t come here in a long time.

Wei Anping said: “We have time now. Can you start from the beginning?”

“Then let’s start with Wei Wu.”

Wei Wu—Wei Anping’s nominal father, Wei Senhao’s cousin.

“In truth, he had no relation to you or your mother. He came to Shanghai with me back then—but didn’t survive. Your mother wanted to live in Gouzitun, so she borrowed his name.”

Hearing this truth, another stone lifted from Wei Anping’s heart. He certainly didn’t want his mother to have been married to someone else when she was with the old ghost—love triangles were a nightmare.

“So you and my mother…”

“We were each other’s first love,” Wei Senhao said sincerely.

“First love? Then why is Jiefang older than me?”

“But your aunt and I were childhood sweethearts,” the old ghost said shamelessly—a reply equivalent to: “Baby is baby, baby is baby.”

If he weren’t the one involved, Wei Anping would’ve given him a thumbs-up.

The old ghost continued: “It all started when I was fifteen. I witnessed the July 7 Incident in Beijing and joined the underground party organization. My elder brother was a Whampoa graduate serving the KMT; my sister was a Shanghai socialite whose husband’s family held great power—so I was sent to Shanghai under the codename Yan Shuangying…”