Grandma Zhou looked at her granddaughter and shook her head. “You little rascal, where’d you pick up that kind of boldness? You’re broke now, aren’t you?”
Qingli chuckled sheepishly. She didn’t dare tell her grandmother that not only was she broke—she was also deep in debt.
The people who had lent her money were all longtime investment partners who knew her abilities. They thought she was striking out on her own, building a new business. None of them suspected it was actually for her family’s enterprise.
After finishing her meal, Qingli said, “Grandma, I’m going to get some work done.”
“Go on, go on.” Grandma Zhou nodded. “I’ll go buy some groceries.”
They each went about their own tasks. Qingli returned to her room, opened her laptop, and began typing. Right now, aside from investments, her most valuable asset is her screenplays. Thankfully, she had a sharp mind. After all the worlds she’d experienced before, she’d already written plenty of scripts she could pull out and use.
She was in the middle of writing when her phone suddenly rang. The caller ID showed an unfamiliar number. She answered, and on the other end came Jiang Xi’s hoarse voice: “Where are you? I want to see you!”
This time his voice sounded weaker than she’d ever heard it—even weaker than a few years ago when he’d been injured by Jiang Zheng and hadn’t fully recovered. There was a deep weariness and loneliness that seemed to come from his very soul.
Qingli sighed but replied, “No need. Just tell me over the phone—I can hear you just fine.”
In a hospital room on the other end, the man’s already pale face dimmed further, the light in his eyes fading. “You won’t even agree to see me? A’Li, I’m still your father!”
“Yes, you are my father.” Qingli gave a small laugh before asking, “But do you remember when I was ten and came down with chickenpox? I had to stay home, and I asked you to take just one hour to keep me company. Do you remember how you reacted as a father?”
Jiang Xi’s expression froze, his eyes instinctively dodging hers.
Qingli went on, “When I was twelve, I got my first period. I was terrified—it was the middle of the night. I was too embarrassed to wake Grandpa, so I went to you. You were still busy with work, and you shoved me out the door, told the butler to explain things to me. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for a girl just entering puberty? As my father, why couldn’t you have set your work aside for a moment to help me?”
“A’Li, I…” Jiang Xi struggled to explain.
Back then, he truly had been busy. When she was twelve, the company was entering a critical growth phase after several years of development. He was cutting into his own sleep just to keep up—he had no time for her.
Qingli ignored his excuse and continued, “All through my childhood, I had countless parent-teacher meetings. Grandpa was the one who went every single time. I didn’t have a mother—I only had a father. Yet my classmates whispered that I was a kid without even a dad. Tell me—before I turned sixteen, did you ever once think of yourself as my father?”
Jiang Xi fell silent, his heart aching so sharply it seemed to crumple in on itself, making it hard to breathe.
Qingli’s voice was calm now. Even the original Qingli had long since passed the age of craving her father’s love. She didn’t care about his neglect back then—after all, he had still been supporting her financially.
But later, when he abandoned her… when Jiang Zheng tortured her… she had no choice but to hate!
Jiang Zheng had done so many cruel things to her, and Jiang Xi had known. And still, he was her father, the man who had brought her into this world!
“I’m sorry…” Jiang Xi murmured.
Qingli gave a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. Everything you did, I’m just giving it back to you. When I was hurting, you never showed up. Now, I naturally won’t either. So, do you still want to remind me that you’re my father?”
Jiang Xi had no answer. The truth was, he’d only called because he wanted to see his daughter.
He admitted to himself that in recent years, under A’Li’s care, he hadn’t been as cold as before—he actually felt something.
But now, living alone for so long, with only the occasional concern from the nurse on duty, he had no one to talk to. He disliked speaking to strangers, and he felt like he was slowly being cut off from the world.
Yet at this moment, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.
It seemed he truly had no right, as a father, to ask her to come see him.
The sadness in his chest spread, and a sharp pain began at the back of his head.
This attack was worse than any before. The stabbing pain assaulted his skull, draining all color from his face within moments. Beads of sweat rolled down his cheeks.
Even holding the phone became too much.
It hurt—
It hurt so much—
His mind began to blur, and in the haze he saw flashes of scenes that felt familiar… yet ones he had never actually seen before…
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152