Chapter 278 A Bitter Feeling
Upon hearing this, the last glimmer of hope that Zhou Xiuli had held onto vanished instantly, like a punctured balloon.
She lowered her eyes, staring at the tips of her shoes, her voice full of disappointment and frustration: "At my age now, the factory hasn't been hiring for a long time, not even temporary workers want me. Sigh, if only I had been determined to go south back then, maybe I would be... Maybe I should pack my bags and go to Guangzhou!"
Upon hearing this, Zhou Nuli immediately turned his head and looked directly at Zhou Dajun. His expression and tone were exactly the same as when he had urged Zhou Dajun to help the family back then, with an urgent tone that left no room for refusal: "Dajun, now that you're back and living a decent life, it's time to help the family. Look at your stepmother, she doesn't have a proper job now. Could you find her something to do at the shop? At least she can be self-reliant."
Looking at Xiao Shui's stiff, smiling face, Song Yu'an felt incredibly relieved.
The smile on his face looked forced, with the corners of his mouth turned up but his eyes remaining motionless, clearly indicating that he was reluctantly going through with it.
The more he looked, the happier he felt, as if years of pent-up resentment had finally found an outlet, and his chest felt much lighter.
He immediately followed up, saying, "That's right, Dajun. Now that you're capable, you've bought houses, have stable jobs, and your living conditions are better, you should help your three younger brothers. They're all still struggling, each one is in a worse situation than the last. The eldest is busy taking care of his children, the second has no skills, and the youngest is still unemployed at home. They can't keep relying on the little land in the village to make a living."
As Zhou Dajun listened, his brows furrowed slightly, and his fingers unconsciously rubbed the rim of the teacup.
Although he could no longer remember those trivial past events, his memories were shrouded in a thick fog, making them blurry and unclear, but his stubbornness and sense of responsibility remained unchanged.
He was the eldest brother, and his parents had asked him to take care of his younger siblings since he was a child. This responsibility was ingrained in his bones, and even if he lost his memory, it would not truly disappear.
He thought for a moment, then looked up and turned to Xiao Shui, asking in a calm but slightly tentative tone, "Does your uncle's factory still need people? If they are hiring, I can ask and see if I can get a job there."
Song Yu'an squinted, sitting upright on the sofa, one hand on his knee and the other gently tapping the armrest, as if waiting for a pre-planned play to begin.
His gaze swept back and forth across Xiaoshui's face, waiting for her response.
He wasn't afraid of putting her in a difficult position; on the contrary, he hoped she would be—the more difficult it was for her, the more it would make them, these relatives, seem greedy, while he, Song Yu'an, was merely seeking justice for the children.
Xiao Shui was still forcing a smile, her cheek muscles were almost twitching, and fine beads of sweat were seeping from her forehead.
She said dryly, "This... really stumps me. To be honest, I haven't contacted my uncle for several months. The last time we talked on the phone was during the Chinese New Year. We chatted about family matters for a bit, but we didn't mention anything about the factory. I have no idea whether they're still hiring, what positions they're hiring for, or how much the salary is. If they really want to arrange someone, I have to ask first to see if there are any vacancies. I can't just make promises I can't keep."
Zhou Nuli put on a stern face, slapped his knees, and said confidently, "Then hurry up and ask! You have to take this seriously and not delay! We're not asking you to arrange it right away, but you need to be serious and sincere. Your husband has a car and a house, your family runs a factory business, and your uncle is the factory manager. If he could free up a position in any of those places, it would be a huge opportunity for our child. It would be best if he could find a job in the city or county, even if the salary isn't high, it's still better than farming in the countryside. At least he'd have a proper job, which would make things easier for him when he gets married and registers his household registration."
Zhou Dajun could only nod in agreement, his voice low: "Okay, I'll have Xiaoshui contact her uncle later to ask about the situation. If there's an opportunity, I'll try my best to help arrange things."
He spoke with his eyes lowered and his voice soft, yet it carried a heavy weight of promise.
Song Yu'an crossed his legs high, the tips of his leather shoes swaying gently in the air, a faint smile always playing on his lips.
He slowly turned his head and looked out the window—the rain had just stopped, water was still dripping from the eaves, puddles of muddy water had accumulated on the bluestone road, the gray-white clouds had not completely dispersed, and the sky was still gloomy.
A gust of wind slipped in through the crack in the window, ruffling the white hair at his temples.
He shook the corner of his clothes, slowly stood up, and said in a light but unyielding tone, "The rain has stopped, Cuifen, let's go. If we stay any longer, we'll miss the last bus back to the city."
Only Zhou Dajun stood up to see them off.
Everyone else remained seated, as if this farewell had nothing to do with them.
He strode to the door, picked up the umbrella hanging behind it, and looked up at the sky—the sky was still overcast, the clouds hung low, and a dampness hit him.
He said in a low voice, "Mom, the rain hasn't really stopped yet. Look at those clouds, it could rain again at any moment. Let me take you to the bus stop. It's not safe on the road, and besides, you're carrying things and it's a long way."
Song Yu'an didn't refuse; instead, he readily agreed, "Sure."
He casually sat down in his son's car, his bottom sinking into the leather seat as he let out a comfortable sigh.
Not taking a car when you have one is something only a fool would do.
He glanced at the car's interior and silently estimated that the car must cost over 100,000 yuan. His son was indeed living a good life.
On the road, raindrops pattered sporadically on the windshield, and the wipers swung back and forth.
Zhou Dajun held the steering wheel with one hand, while adjusting the air conditioning vents from time to time with the other.
After a few seconds of silence in the car, he finally spoke softly, his tone hesitant and tentative: "Mom, if you're not in a hurry to leave, why don't you stay for a meal? Xiao Shui just bought the groceries and washed the pots; it won't take much time to cook a few simple dishes. It's rare for the family to get together, and to just leave like this... it feels really bad. Once you leave, this family... won't be complete."
Song Yu'an glanced at him in the rearview mirror, his eyes as cold as knives, but a mocking sneer played on his lips.
"You want your mother to have dinner with your aunt? Oh, wait..."
He paused, his tone suddenly turning cold, like ice water being poured over someone's head.
"That's not your aunt anymore, it's your dad's new wife. You have a bad memory, but I remember clearly. Your dad just got married the year before last, and they had a grand wedding banquet. Everyone in the village went, but you didn't come back. Now, what are you doing, pretending to be one of us?"
"Hehe, the Zhou family is shameless, but your mother isn't like that!"
He raised his voice slightly, with a hint of disdain, "Your mother worked hard her whole life, only to be kicked out and forced to live in those two old houses in the countryside, where she can't even take a hot shower. What right does she have to go back, sit across from your father and that 'new bride,' and have a hypocritical meal? Huh?"
Upon hearing this, Zhou Dajun's face fell, and his eyes reddened slightly.
He lowered his head, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly until his knuckles turned white, feeling utterly miserable.
He opened his mouth, wanting to explain something, but found himself unable to utter a single word.
After a long silence, he asked in a hoarse voice, "How about... I take you home directly? That way you won't have to transfer buses. It's cold and the roads are slippery, I'm worried about that."
Shen Cuifen remained silent, sitting in the passenger seat with her hands folded on her lap and her head bowed.
Her hair was a little gray, and a few strands of it fluttered gently in the warm air inside the car.
Only then did she slowly raise her head and finally speak. Her voice was soft, but clear and firm: "No need. Dajun, you can take us to the bus stop. We can get back by ourselves."
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