Chapter 56 This is Retribution

The days flowed by like water, accompanied by the clatter of the sewing machine and the babbling of the children.

In the blink of an eye, Yizhen and Yibao are one year old.

Wen Xiaoxiao deliberately closed her shop for half a day. In their cramped "home," she laid a red cloth on the cutting table and placed a few small items: an old book, a pair of small scissors, a thimble, a pretty scrap of fabric, and a small abacus model that she had bought with great difficulty.

She brought over her two daughters, dressed in red cotton-padded jackets and with their hair in pigtails sticking straight up, and placed them in front of the red cloth. "Yizhen, Yibao, come on, pick one up and see what you like?"

Yizhen blinked her big eyes curiously, her chubby little hands first touching the old book, then turning to the shiny thimble, and finally grabbing the little scissors, holding them tightly in her hand, and even waving them at her mother.

Yi Bao stared at the brightly colored scrap of fabric for a long time, then slowly crawled over, picked it up with her little hands, rubbed it against her face, and then gave Wen Xiaoxiao a toothless smile.

Wen Xiaoxiao's eyes welled up with tears as she watched this scene.

If you handle scissors, maybe you'll make a living with your skills like hers in the future; if you handle fabric, perhaps you'll also have a connection with this industry.

In any case, her daughters are healthy and growing up day by day.

They have begun to babble and try to say "Mama," though their pronunciation is unclear; they can also take a few steps, wobbling, while holding onto walls or tables and chairs.

Every day brings her new surprises and hope.

However, in the dead of night, after the children have fallen asleep, Wen Xiaoxiao often finds herself unable to fall asleep, stroking her increasingly protruding belly.

The baby is almost seven months old, and the fetal movements are becoming more and more obvious.

Sometimes she feels lost, wondering if her resolute departure was the right or wrong decision.

Is it too selfish to let a child be born without a father and live in such a cramped and simple environment?

But whenever she saw Yizhen and Yibao's innocent smiling faces, and thought of Zhao Qingda and Wang Juan's ugly faces, she would harden her heart.

No, she doesn't regret leaving.

At least, she and her children are free, no longer living under the shadow of gossip and the ever-present threat of violence.

However, in some corner of my heart, I always uncontrollably recall Zhao Fei's broad back, his silent protection, and the earnest look in his eyes when he said, "I will marry you."

My heart aches in a subtle, persistent way.

She knew she owed him an apology and an explanation.

But now, everything is irreversible.

She could only grit her teeth and run "Xiaoxiao Tailor Shop" well, and raise her three children safely and healthily.

The shop's business gradually got on track.

She has good skills, fair prices, and is an honest person. Gradually, the nearby residents are willing to bring her repair, alteration, and even new clothing jobs to her.

Although the income was meager, it was enough to feed the mother and her two children, and they could even save a little to prepare for the unborn child.

Since moving into his new house in the city, Zhao Fei's life seems to have turned a new page.

The building is clean and bright, with running water, a toilet, and heating in winter. It's much better than the traditional courtyard house.

But Zhao Fei felt a huge emptiness in his heart. No matter how nice the house was, without that person and the children's laughter, it was just a cold shell.

The new pig farm has been built, and piglets have been moved into the pens one after another. Under the care of Wenbin and several veteran workers, it has gradually returned to normal operation.

Zhao Fei went there every day; being busy helped him temporarily forget his pain.

But more often than not, he and Wenbin would sit in silence, smoking one cigarette after another.

Wenbin was also haggard. His sister and niece were missing, and he was just as anxious. He had some resentment towards Zhao Fei, but seeing his distraught appearance, he felt more helpless in their shared misery.

Zhao Fei bought a provincial map and would drive his minivan along the highways, visiting each county one by one.

They went from one township to another.

Perhaps only when he's on the road can he feel a little better.

He traveled to several nearby cities, taking a second look at women with children, stopping to look around at tailor shops, and even approaching homeless people on the roadside with a racing heart to identify them.

Disappointment after disappointment was like a dull knife slowly cutting his flesh, torturing his hope.

Zhao Yidi adapted well to the new school, but became more silent than before.

She often looks at the rag doll that Wen Xiaoxiao made for her, and sometimes she secretly sheds tears.

Seeing her son-in-law growing thinner and more absent-minded, Zhou Lanying could only sigh and try to make the food more delicious and the house warmer.

Wang Juan and Zhao Qingda's son, nicknamed Tietou, did not improve after being diagnosed; instead, his condition worsened.

The seizure began.

The epileptic seizures became more and more frequent, and when he exerted himself, he even injured himself.

Forget crawling and sitting, he can't even sit up for a short while now. Most of the time he can only lie helplessly in bed, with unfocused eyes and constant drooling.

His once chubby face gradually became sickly bloated and dull due to illness and prolonged bed rest.

Wang Juan was initially unwilling to give up, crying and making a scene to force Zhao Qingda to change hospitals and look for folk remedies. Money was spent like water, but there was no improvement whatsoever.

Zhao Qingda looked at his son, whom he had once placed high hopes on and regarded as his "root" and "heir," and saw him now in this state.

The last vestiges of fatherly love in his heart were worn away by the daily exhaustion and economic pressure.

Once, looking at his son convulsing and drooling on the bed, he said to Wang Juan in a gloomy tone, "Why don't we... throw him away? Living like this is just suffering, and it will drag us down for the rest of our lives."

Wang Juan exploded like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, lunging at him and scratching and hitting him while screaming and cursing, "Zhao Qingda! Are you even human?! This is your own son! How could you say such a thing?! Throw him away? You try throwing one away! I'll fight you to the death!"

The couple had their most intense argument yet, blaming each other and hurling insults at each other.

Standing to the side, Li Yugu listened to his son's ramblings, watched Wang Juan's hysterical state, and looked at the innocent and pitiful child on the bed. He felt utterly hopeless.

She silently took on most of the work of caring for her sick grandson, washing him, feeding him liquid food, and massaging his atrophied limbs.

People age rapidly, their backs become hunched, and the sparkle in their eyes is gone, no longer the same as when they held their grandchildren.

When the old ladies in the alley gather together to bask in the sun, they inevitably gossip.

"Have you heard? Zhao Qingda's child is very sick, and I'm afraid... he's not doing well."

"Sigh, they say it's cerebral palsy, and it can't be cured."

"What cerebral palsy? He's just an idiot. I think this is retribution. How did he treat Xiaoxiao and those two girls back then? Now he has a grandson, and this is the result..."

"That's right, God is watching."

"It's just so pitiful for the child, what a tragedy..."

These words would occasionally drift into Li Yugu's ears.

She no longer rushed to defend herself as before; instead, she lowered her head even further.