"Here, this is all your doing. Take it to Grandma and ask her to make you fish soup."

...

Two more days passed.

That day, Su Jianguo was squatting under the grape trellis repairing a hoe, the clanging of metal ringing out crisply in the quiet courtyard.

Da Mao and Er Mao squatted beside them, their little hands supporting their cheeks as they watched intently.

"Grandpa, why is this piece of metal bent?"

Da Mao poked the hot metal sheet with his little finger, but Su Jianguo immediately grabbed his wrist.

"Be careful not to burn yourself."

Su Jianguo wiped the coal dust off the child's face with his sleeve.

"This is the tongue of the hoe; it bends to lock onto the wooden handle..."

Before he could finish speaking, a screeching sound of brakes suddenly came from outside the courtyard gate.

A black Volga sedan rudely stopped in front of the door.

The car door swung open with a bang, and shiny leather shoes stepped onto the bluestone slabs.

Su Mingde got out of the car wearing a sharp navy blue suit and tie.

He deliberately cleared his throat at the doorway and impatiently tapped the door knocker with his fingers.

"Dad! I'm back!"

This call was full of hypocrisy, sickeningly sweet.

Su Jianguo paused in his movements, the hammer hovering in mid-air.

The two grandsons keenly sensed the change in atmosphere and unconsciously shrank back behind their grandfather.

The courtyard gate was pushed open.

Su Mingde stood outside the threshold, surveying the courtyard where he grew up like an aristocrat inspecting a slum. His lips twitched as his gaze swept over the farm tools piled in the corner.

"Oh, busy?"

He kicked the nails on the ground with the tip of his leather shoe.

"Why are you getting involved with all this junk?"

Liu Meijuan also came in and took Su Mingde's arm from behind.