Chapter 230 Farce

"Shut up! You're always following your mother around doing nothing, you have no skills whatsoever, and when something happens you can't even come up with a proper idea. Get back inside! Don't get in my way!"

The air froze instantly.

Zhao Lin didn't even glance at Chen Cuifen. He simply spoke softly, his tone gentle yet firm: "Listen to your mother and go back to your room."

Shen Cuifen bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. She lowered her head and dragged her heavy steps to the door. She gripped the door frame tightly with one hand, her knuckles turning white. She didn't dare to actually step out, afraid that something even bigger would happen inside.

Only then did Zhao Lin slowly raise his head, his gaze as cold as a frosty winter night. His voice was unhurried, yet every word was like a knife: "You say Jackie Chan came to help? You really believe he genuinely wants to help you? He and that classmate are practically inseparable. How much would it cost to exchange a few words or pass a message? It's just a meal; why would it cost you a whole month's salary? And you're still pretending to be innocent? You know perfectly well what you're up to! Don't think I don't know what you're plotting!"

Zhou Nuli was so stung by these words that he trembled all over, veins bulged on his forehead, his chest heaved violently, as if a breath was stuck in his throat, and his face turned red.

He suddenly raised his hand, his arm soaring high, the wind whistling as he aimed to slap Zhao Lin across the face.

Zhao Lin didn't dodge. Instead, he straightened his back and faced him head-on, his voice as cold as ice: "Hit me! Go ahead and hit me! Zhou Nuli, you only helped your own son once, and you're so unwilling? So resentful? Do I have to kneel down and beg you, kowtow and admit my mistake before you'll move a finger?"

She wanted to force him to take action.

She had waited too long for this day.

Since the argument has escalated to this point, let's tear off all the fig leaves and lay the bloody truth bare before everyone.

"Smack—"

The slap finally landed, hard and heavy, carrying years of pent-up resentment and anger, striking Zhao Lin's cheek fiercely.

A crisp sound exploded in the room, like a snapped string.

Zhao Lin's body swayed, he lost his balance, staggered a few steps, and finally fell heavily onto the cold cement ground. His cheeks quickly swelled up, his ears were ringing, and there was even a trace of blood in his mouth.

But she didn't cry or scream; she just lay there quietly, staring blankly at the mottled ceiling, as if her soul had already drifted out of this oppressive little house.

Shen Cuifen screamed and rushed over, hugging her tightly, her voice trembling so much it was almost unrecognizable: "Mother! How are you? Say something, don't scare me!"

She gripped Zhao Lin's sleeve tightly with both hands, tears welling up instantly and sliding down her cheeks, dripping onto her mother's bluish face.

Zhou Nuli raised his foot and kicked, landing hard and forceful kicks on Shen Cuifen, while shouting, "Get out of my way! Who told you to meddle in other people's business?"

He was panting heavily, his eyes bloodshot, like an enraged wild beast. "Dad, don't be angry! Mom was too eager to help Jianguo. I... I felt sorry for him! I only disciplined her for the sake of the family!"

Zhao Lin suddenly pulled Shen Cuifen behind him, his arm blocking his daughter-in-law's chest, as if he wanted to build a wall with his own body.

She jumped to her feet, her legs a little weak, but her back straight. She poked Zhou Nuli's nose with her finger, her voice shrill and piercing: "I can tolerate you hitting me, but you can even lay a hand on my daughter-in-law? She's carrying your grandson! Zhou Nuli, are your hands made of iron? Or do you have absolutely no humanity?"

“When Jian Guo comes back, I’m going to tell him this: your father doesn’t want to acknowledge this wife at all!”

Zhao Lin's voice was choked with sobs, yet every word was like a knife: "You look down on her, you despise her for being poor and having no background, but she's never uttered a single word of complaint since she married into our family! You're hitting her now, and you could drive her to her death tomorrow! Do you believe me?"

Before he could finish speaking, another slap came down.

The wind rushed towards us, moving so fast we couldn't react in time.

Zhao Lin was mentally prepared, but the "smack" still made her see stars, her ears ring, and half of her face burned as if it had been branded by a red-hot iron.

She stumbled and fell to the ground, her knees hitting the cold mud with a dull thud.

She instinctively shielded Shen Cuifen with her body, tightly wrapping her arms around her daughter-in-law's head, as if afraid the next blow would land on her.

Just then, a cheerful whistle came from the doorway, its melody so lively it was almost ironic.

All three of them were panting heavily, and they all turned their heads to look at each other, their eyes filled with a mixture of shock, anger and disbelief.

Zhou Anguo stood at the door, not moving.

He was backlit, his shadow stretched long across the threshold.

He glanced at the hand still hanging in mid-air, the arm that Zhou Nuli hadn't lowered after slapping him, then looked at the mother and daughter huddled together on the ground, his face expressionless.

He curled his lip and sneered, "Father, Mother, I can't and don't care about your family's mess. I'm just back to grab a book and I'm leaving right now."

He didn't even glance at Zhao Lin, as if she were just a pile of junk on the ground.

He brushed past her without hesitation, his movements swift and decisive.

He turned and went back into the room, walking steadily to the bedside. He picked up a rented comic book—the cover was worn white, the corners were curled, and there were several oil stains on it.

He left through the main gate without looking back, and his figure quickly disappeared beyond the courtyard wall.

As soon as I stepped out of the courtyard gate, the whistle rang out again—even more cheerful and lively than before, with a bouncy rhythm, like a little lullaby, as if everything that had just happened was nothing more than an insignificant farce.

The sound drifted along the quiet village road in the afternoon, sending chills down one's spine.

Zhao Lin's heart had long since turned cold.

It's not that I can't cry, it's that I'm so angry that I'm shaking all over, from my fingertips to my teeth.

She stared blankly at the empty space by the door, her eyes vacant, a thousand words stuck in her throat, yet she couldn't utter a single one.

She turned her head and saw Shen Cuifen, who was heavily pregnant, protecting her tightly.

The daughter-in-law's face was covered in tears, her lips trembled slightly, but her eyes were stubborn and she refused to bow her head.

Zhao Lin gritted his teeth, one hand bracing against the ground, the mud digging painfully into his palm, the other hand supporting his daughter-in-law's arm, his voice hoarse but firm: "Get up, we're not staying here. This place doesn't deserve a single tear from us."

She helped Shen Cuifen to her feet, her legs still trembling, but her steps were unwavering.

She glanced at Zhou Nuli, who was slumped on the stool, panting. He had his head down, his face was ashen, and his hands were still trembling slightly, but he didn't dare to look up at them.

Zhao Lin sneered, said nothing, and walked straight out. Although his steps were unsteady, he walked with unusual determination.

In the village clinic, Zhao Lin cried out at the top of her lungs, her voice so mournful it was heart-wrenching.

She sat on the stool, covering her face with her hands, tears and snot streaming down her face, her shoulders trembling violently.

Her cries pierced through the walls and carried far on the wind, reaching the entire village. Even the sparrows in the trees were startled and flew away.