“Your father didn’t take the separation from his wife very well,” Lin Mei went on. “He drank a lot. But he wasn’t violent to my mother. Never acted cruelly to her. He was Just… absent.” She shook her head. “He never mistreated me. But he never loved us or even properly acknowledged us as his family, either. He didn’t even sleep in the same room. He acted like we weren’t there. Whenever he came, he would just talk to you while you were sleeping and then leave before you knew it.”

She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Under the agreement, my mother was ordered to take care of you. At first, to her, it really was just a responsibility. A job she merely has to fulfill.”

Lin Fang looked up at her.

“But something changed over time,” Lin Mei said softly.

Her voice wavered now, memories breaking through her composure. “You were just a baby. You crawled toward her every time she entered the room. You cried whenever she left your presence. You couldn’t sleep when she was away. Your first steps, your first laugh… your first word.” She swallowed. “When you called her mama.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and intimate.

“That’s when the job ended,” Lin Mei whispered. “You weren’t an assignment anymore. You became her son. And you were my little brother.”

“But then, a few years later,” Lin Mei continued, her voice lowering, “something changed. We still don’t know what exactly triggered it.”

She leaned back against the wall, arms folding around herself, as if bracing against a memory that still carried weight. “You were four years old, and I was almost nine. Old enough to understand words, expressions, and silences.” Her lips pressed together for a moment. “One day, your father came home earlier than usual. He didn’t drink that night. Instead, he talked with us.”

Lin Fang’s throat tightened.

“He said he was leaving,” Lin Mei said quietly. “Leaving… with you.”

The words fell like stones.

“He told my mother to sign the divorce papers. He offered her a hundred million credits as compensation. Said it was enough for us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives with no worries or struggles.” Her voice sharpened slightly. “As if money could replace a child.”

Lin Fang’s fingers dug into the couch.

“My mother refused,” Lin Mei said, and this time there was no hesitation in her tone. “She didn’t even look at the contract. She cried. She begged him. Not for the money. Not for herself.” Lin Mei’s eyes glistened. “She begged him not to take you away. She said she didn’t care about the mansion, the status, the comfort. She just didn’t want to lose her son. And this was 20 years ago, Fang-di. 100 million credits back then is like 300 million now. You can understand how big that amount was.”

The room felt smaller.

“She still refused to sign, no matter how much your father pressed her,” Lin Mei went on. “Again and again. And in the end… we left.”

She exhaled, slow and steady. “We left Eastern Han and followed your father to Northern Yan. To Huaxi City. A place where Southern Sky’s influence was minimal.”

Lin Fang’s memories stirred faintly, like shadows behind frosted glass.

“We started over,” Lin Mei said. “There were no servants, no guards, or no luxury cars. We began to live in a modest apartment. It was middle-class life.” A faint smile tugged at her lips. “Compared to what we had before for four years, it was nothing. I kinda hated my mother for a bit, back then, although it soon passed away.”

She looked at him then. “But my mother was happy. Truly happy. Because you were still with her.”

Lin Fang swallowed.

“And maybe,” Lin Mei said softly, “that’s what changed your father as well.”

She pushed herself off the wall and paced slowly. “He softened and no longer drank. He started treating my mother kindly. He treated her and me as people. They talked. They laughed. Sometimes, they even went out together for simple dates.”

Her voice warmed despite herself. “He started coming to my school events too. Sat in the crowd with mom, cheering like every other parent. He called me his daughter. And somewhere along the way… I started believing it.”

She stopped in front of Lin Fang.

“That life was humble,” Lin Mei said. “No wealth. No power. No protection.” Her gaze softened. “But it felt complete. For the first time, it felt like we were a real family.”

The words seemed to drain what little strength she had left, and for a moment she stood there, head lowered, as if bracing herself for rejection she had prepared for over a decade.

“You might not be blood-related to us,” she said hoarsely, finally lifting her head, eyes red but steady, “but for us… You were never anything but family. Not for a single day.” She swallowed. “I might be an A-rank Hunter now, Fang-di, but if it weren’t for Master Feng pushing me, assuring me, I don’t think I would’ve had the courage to stand in front of you and tell you any of this.”

Inside Lin Fang’s mind, Alpha’s voice surfaced, slower than usual, uncharacteristically gentle. “She’s telling the truth, kiddo. There’s no deception here. Her emotions are raw, unfiltered. This pain… I can sense that it’s real.”

Lin Fang didn’t reply aloud. He didn’t need to.

His chest felt tight, like something had been pressing there for years and had finally been lifted, only to leave behind a hollow ache. He stared at his sister’s back as she turned slightly away, clearly trying to compose herself, and the word slipped out before he could stop it.

“Jie… Jie.”

Lin Mei froze.

When she turned around, she saw him sitting on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, hands clenched together. Tears streamed down his face, unrestrained, unashamed. He lifted a hand and wiped at them roughly, as if frustrated with himself.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice breaking despite the effort to keep it steady. “Thank you… for telling me.”

He laughed weakly, the sound cracking midway. “For years, every time I struggled… every time I couldn’t pay rent, every time I watched other people talk about their families, I thought—if only I wasn’t abandoned.” His breathing grew uneven. “If only my family hadn’t thrown me away… maybe things would’ve been different.”

His fingers dug into his palms.

“I didn’t even have anyone to complain to,” he continued quietly. “No one to talk to. I hated her.” His voice trembled. “I hated Mom. I hated you, too. There wasn’t a single day I didn’t curse her for being cold-hearted. For leaving me behind like trash.”

He lowered his head, tears dripping onto the floor.

“But I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I really didn’t know.”

Lin Mei crossed the room in two quick steps and knelt in front of him, grabbing his hands before he could pull away.

“Fang-di,” she said urgently, tears finally spilling free, “don’t blame yourself. You had every right to feel that way. If I were in your place… I might’ve hated us too.”

She pulled him into an embrace, tight and trembling, like she was afraid he might disappear if she loosened her grip.

“Mom never stopped loving you,” Lin Mei whispered against his shoulder. “Not once. Every dinner… every holiday… There was always an empty chair. She never let anyone sit there. She said that the seat was for her son. She thought if she remarried someone, she was worried that she would have to split her love to someone else, and time might make her forget you. To date, forget about marrying someone, she didn’t even date anyone who showed interest in her. She remained single. In holiday nights, she would just sit there in front of the fireplace and just go through our family album again and again…”

Lin Fang’s breath hitched.

“She thought,” Lin Mei continued softly, “that leaving you with me was the least she could do so that you wouldn’t be alone. But Southern Sky… they came back and threatened her again. She forced her to convince me to leave your side forever and made me sign the confidential contract too.”

Lin Fang squeezed his eyes shut.

For the first time in years, the hatred he had carried didn’t vanish completely, but it cracked. And through that crack seeped something unfamiliar, painful, and warm.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep