WBSGVS Chapter 142 V2

He was already eighteen. Unless he was physically incapable of making a living, it wasn’t Qingli’s responsibility as his sister to support him.

After making sure her daughter was well-fed, Qingli conducted an interview for a caregiver, paid the fee, and left without hesitation.

Even though Yang Qing wanted her to stay longer.

The bond between them had long worn thin over the past eighteen years. Qingli didn’t believe Yang Qing truly missed her—she just wanted to rely on her now that she had money.

Qingli left so decisively that Yang Qing had no words to protest.

Xia Zhihao stormed out as well, not sparing a thought for his seventy-year-old parents.

Yang Qing and Xia Yong exchanged glances. Eighteen years might have passed, but they had aged as if they were already at death’s door.

Qingli’s words echoed in their minds: You worked yourselves to the bone for a son, and what do you get in return?

Now, when they were sick, it wasn’t their children taking care of them—it was strangers.

How ironic.

Yang Qing was filled with bitterness, while Xia Yong, despite having a stronger heart, was still reeling from the disappointment their son had inflicted. Their health continued to decline, even though their stroke hadn’t left them with any major complications.

To make matters worse, their savings were truly gone.

When it was time to be discharged, it wasn’t their daughter or son who picked them up—it was the caregiver and housekeeper Qingli had hired.

These two took them home and provided care, ensuring they followed a strict schedule for waking up, eating, and sleeping.

But warmth?

That was nonexistent.

The food was simple. Their daughter had money, but she wasn’t about to spend it on them lavishly. The caregiver and housekeeper each did their assigned tasks—one focused on cooking, cleaning, and laundry, while the other handled their personal care.

There were always gaps in their care.

With Qingli no longer keeping an eye on them, Yang Qing and Xia Yong called her dozens of times, only to get through on rare occasions. And when they did reach her and complained, she responded with: “What’s there to complain about? You should be grateful. After all, your son isn’t contributing a penny. It’s just me, the daughter you said wasn’t responsible for your care, paying for everything. And you still expect top-tier treatment? That’s asking too much.”

After spending a lifetime insisting their son would take care of them in old age, neither Yang Qing nor Xia Yong dared to push further.

But where was the son who was supposed to care for them?

Xia Zhihao lacked Qingli’s discipline. He had no interest in juggling work and study, and after scoring low and getting into a vocational college, his self-esteem took a hit. So he dropped out and went straight to work.

Once he left, the elderly couple didn’t see much of him either.

He didn’t send them money.

Yang Qing and Xia Yong had no choice but to endure the indifferent care of the housekeeper and caregiver. At night, they would silently cry, holding each other’s hands, lamenting their past mistakes.

If only they hadn’t had a son twenty years ago.

If they had focused solely on their daughter instead.

Maybe then, Qingli would have taken them in.

Even if she hadn’t, with the 200,000 yuan they had saved for their son’s future and their earnings, they could have lived comfortably. They could have traveled, enjoyed life, and not worked themselves into poor health.

Now, even stepping outside was difficult.

Two Years Later

Xia Yong and Yang Qing passed away, one after the other.

On their deathbeds, they longed to see their daughter and granddaughter one last time.

But they never got the chance.

Qingli simply told them she was too busy.

They struggled to hold on, hoping she would free up her schedule, but in the end, they couldn’t wait any longer.

Their eyes finally closed for good.

Qingli didn’t even return for the funeral.

Her only tie to them had been their past mistreatment of the original owner of this body. With them gone, there was no reason to go back.

But she still sent money to her aunts, asking them to arrange the funeral.

As for the house her parents had lived in all their lives, they had transferred it to her before they died, hoping it would lure her back.

Instead, she sold it immediately and donated the money, treating it as a final act of charity to accumulate some good karma for the original owner of her body.

Later, word spread that Xia Zhihao had returned.

He arrived at the house, only to find strangers living there.

He threw a fit, but his relatives scolded him. In the end, he had no choice but to slink away in shame.

With no parents and no way to reach his sister, he had no choice but to keep struggling to survive.

A few years later, Qingli received a call from the court.

It was about Xia Zhihao.

He had been arrested for robbery.

Too poor to afford a lawyer and unwilling to accept the court-appointed one, he claimed his sister was a top attorney and insisted she represent him.

Qingli listened to the case details for two minutes, then replied, “Sorry, I don’t have time.”

Five short words.

That was all.

The court officer looked at the phone, then at Xia Zhihao, who was staring at him with desperate, pleading eyes. With a sigh, the officer relayed the message:

“Your sister says she doesn’t have time.”

Xia Zhihao’s heart sank.

He slumped back in his seat, his handcuffed hands covering his face as he let out muffled sobs.

“I was wrong… I don’t want to go to prison…”

But it was too late.

One moment of desperation had landed him in jail.

And the one person who could have helped him didn’t care at all.

He was finished.