Grandpa and Grandma Xia left in the end—reluctantly, but they left. However, expecting Qingli to agree to take care of her younger brother was impossible.
That would be a betrayal of everything the original host of this body had suffered.
In her previous life, no one had considered her feelings. No one cared about her struggles. The only thing that mattered was what she should do, what she should sacrifice for the family—including her own marriage.
So, in this life, she wasn’t about to compromise just to ease her grandparents’ guilt.
Qingli had returned this time, but she didn’t stay at home. She preferred a hotel instead. She gave them five thousand as a token of respect for her grandparents, and after the funeral, despite the Xia family’s protests, she swiftly bought a ticket and left, never looking back.
Two years later, Xia Zhihao entered middle school.
Things were different from elementary school. Middle school required solid academic knowledge, and suddenly, the so-called genius son of Xia Yong and Yang Qing seemed to hit a wall. His grades began to slip—little by little, then all at once.
The couple was baffled. They even worried that their son had started dating, but when they asked his teachers, they found nothing of the sort. At most, he played video games and read novels. But his grades still plummeted.
More frustratingly, he seemed to have lost his ability to grasp things quickly.
Concepts that should have been obvious now needed to be explained two or three times before he understood them.
Their genius was gone—replaced by a son who was far more ordinary than their eldest daughter had ever been.
Xia Yong and Yang Qing were devastated. Watching their son spend thousands every month on street dance classes only made it worse. By the time he reached eighth grade, they put their foot down.
“No more street dancing. That money will go to tutoring classes instead.”
Zhihao was furious. He could accept quitting street dance if he had another option, but if it was his only talent, then he had to stick with it.
Hearing his parents’ decision, he threw a fit. “I won’t stop! I have to do it!”
“You’re already failing your classes, and you still want to dance? At this rate, you won’t even pass your exams! Do you have any idea how much your mother and I have sacrificed for you?” Xia Yong shouted.
“I don’t care! If I quit, how am I supposed to hold my head up in front of my friends?” Zhihao yelled back.
Father and son were exactly alike in their stubbornness—neither willing to back down.
Seeing that his son wouldn’t listen, Xia Yong rubbed his face in frustration and finally admitted, “The money we saved for your future house is almost gone. These past years, your mother and I have been cutting costs to support you, but the truth is—we don’t have enough anymore. You have to take tutoring classes. That’s the only thing we can afford.”
Zhihao’s expression stiffened, but after a moment, he said, “Isn’t my sister still around? Ask her for money. If she refuses, make a scene! What kind of daughter doesn’t support her parents?”
In his past life, it had been the same. Whenever Xia Qingli refused to give him money, he would throw tantrums. Their parents would scold her, and she would go back to her husband to ask for more. Every time, she got yelled at, but every time, she still brought back the money.
This time, things were different. But as long as Xia Qingli was still around, that was enough.
They had to pressure her—otherwise, he might not even be able to go to college, let alone buy a house like in his past life!
His son’s words gave Xia Yong an idea. He had already told Yang Qing to ask their daughter for money before, but she had refused.
It wasn’t like he was shameless—but after Qingli exposed how he had cut off her tuition and living expenses back in college, he had been too embarrassed to ask again.
But now, things were different.
Their salaries weren’t enough to support their son anymore.
Their daily household expenses were around a thousand per month, but every season, their son needed new clothes. He refused to wear cheap ones—wouldn’t even glance at anything under fifty dollars, sneered at those under two hundred, and barely accepted anything under five hundred. If Xia Yong didn’t keep him in check, he would have already been buying sneakers worth over a thousand each.
On top of that, Zhihao had a weekly allowance of two hundred, but if that wasn’t enough, he always asked for more.
If he got sick, the medical bills cost hundreds at a time.
In a way, the street dance classes had helped—at least he wasn’t the sickly, overweight recluse he had been in the past life. He didn’t fall ill as often, but his appetite had grown. And his meals were luxurious.
While his parents ate vegetables, salted fish, and cured meats, he drank chicken soup and ate seafood. He frequently dined out, and his spending habits hadn’t changed much.
On top of that, Yang Qing had health issues, and Xia Yong had injured his back at work. They had been visiting the hospital so often that they were on friendly terms with the nurses there.
With a combined monthly income of six to seven thousand, how were they supposed to afford all this? Their savings had already dwindled, and every day, their biggest worry was how to save enough for their son’s future bride price.
No house, no dowry—no chance of getting married!
At this point, their only option was to swallow their pride and ask their daughter for help.
Xia Yong dialed Qingli’s number. His heart pounded as he waited—every past rejection had left a psychological scar.
The call connected, and Qingli’s voice came through. “Dad, what’s up?”
Xia Yong coughed lightly. “Just calling to check on you. If we didn’t call, you’d probably forget you even have parents, huh?”
Qingli chuckled. “How could I?”
Her soft tone gave Xia Yong some confidence. He cleared his throat and said gruffly, “Your mom’s sick again, and I’m not feeling great either. Work’s not going well. It’s about time you started sending money home, don’t you think?”
This time, Qingli was surprisingly agreeable. “Sure. Send me your account number. I’ll transfer two thousand every month.”
At her age, it was reasonable to replace the health supplements she used to send with direct cash.
Xia Yong kept a straight face. “Two thousand? That’s not enough. That barely covers daily expenses!”
“It is for your daily expenses,” Qingli said cheerfully. “Unless… you’re expecting me to use my money to support your son? Dad, after all these years, are you still not getting it?”
Xia Yong’s face twitched. He gritted his teeth. “Xia Qingli! He’s your brother! Whether you like it or not, when your mother and I are too old to work, you’ll have to take care of him!”
Qingli laughed. “But you’re not too old yet. You’re both perfectly fine. And two thousand a month is more than enough. Remember when you used to envy so-and-so’s daughter for getting married early? Do you think she gives her parents two thousand a month? Don’t be greedy.”
Her tone carried a hint of mockery. Xia Yong felt his face heat up in anger. He snapped, “Watch your mouth! If you don’t send more, I’ll come to your company and cause a scene!”
“Do you even know where my company is?” Qingli asked, amused.
Xia Yong froze. He didn’t know. She had mentioned it before, but the name was complicated, and he hadn’t bothered to remember. His mind stalled for a second, but then he quickly rebounded. “Then I’ll report you to the police! They’ll track you down!”
“Oh, then I have some bad news for you,” Qingli said, tilting her head with a smile. “Our company is expanding overseas. Since my English is good, they sent me abroad.”
She paused for dramatic effect. “Go ahead, Dad. Come find me. If you can.”
Xia Yong: “?!!!”
His breathing grew erratic, his face turning red with frustration as he glared at the phone screen.
She had left the country?!
How the hell was he supposed to get money from her now?!
Xia Yong: “…”
Too much sarcasm!
He held back his urge to smash his phone. Ten years ago, he could afford to break one—back then, if he worked hard, he could make 10,000 a month, and a phone only cost a tenth of that.
Now… better not.
His son still needed tutoring!
Frustrated, Xia Yong finally hung up. Even though he wasn’t happy about only getting 2,000 yuan, he still sent over his bank account number.
Not long after, a notification arrived.
A deposit of exactly 2,000 yuan—not a cent more.
Then, a text message followed:
[The money will be deposited on the first of every month. Unlike you, I won’t forget.]
Xia Yong: “Ah, damn it—!”
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152
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