“They say that foundling daughter of Dajun’s has married a soldier!”
“Now isn’t that a fine thing! Just look at him—such a handsome young man, so upright and spirited!”
“A city lad too! Truly—Dajun has risen high indeed!”
So the villagers chattered, one after another—and then they spotted Shen Dajun hobbling toward them from the west.
Gu Yanzhi was the first to notice him. His brows drew together in a quiet frown. He turned to Shen Niannian.
“Niannian… is that Father?”
Shen Niannian craned forward eagerly, about to call out—only to see her father limping heavily. She leaped straight from the bicycle’s rear seat and ran toward him.
“Father!!”
Shen Dajun, lost in worry, lifted his head sharply at the sound. Seeing his daughter and son-in-law, his face lit up with pure joy. He hurried forward, limping all the way.
“Niannian… my daughter…”
She reached him in moments and slipped an arm firmly around his. She looked him over, then down at his leg, her eyes wide with alarm.
“Father—what happened to your leg?”
He had been fine only days before when she left for marriage! He walked perfectly well! And in her past life—he had never limped at all! It seemed everything had shifted from the moment her fate changed.
Gu Yanzhi pushed the bicycle forward and joined them, his expression grave.
“Father—we were gone but two days. How did this happen?”
It was his daughter’s homecoming day. He did not want them fretting. So he forced a casual smile and tried to brush it off.
“Ah—nothing much. Went digging wild herbs for the chickens and slipped, that’s all.”
But Shen Niannian knew him too well. He had worked the land his whole life—sure-footed, steady, capable. Digging herbs was simple work; he would never simply “slip.” Those chickens belonged to her grandmother Li Guihua, and her Second Aunt was the one who fed them daily. She did not need to guess—she knew exactly who was to blame.
Anger rose hot and tight in her chest, stinging her eyes.
“Father—did Grandmother and Second Aunt mistreat you? I’m going to speak to them right now!”
She turned, furious, and started back toward the house.
Shen Dajun caught her arm. He knew her temper—and what good would it do? She would only be mocked and humiliated, and he could not bear to see her hurt further. What did his own hardship matter? As long as his daughter and her husband were well, he had everything.
“Niannian—no, don’t. Truly it was not them. I stepped on a loose stone and fell. That is all. Please—don’t make trouble.”
Seeing him still shielding them, swallowing his pain for their sake—Shen Niannian burned with rage. Rage that she had not been there to protect him. Rage that he shouldered everything alone. And rage at this household—greedy, cruel, devouring him alive!
She remembered her past life—how he had died so wretchedly. How they had bundled him into a hasty burial, not a single tear shed. These were not family. How could they call themselves kin? How could such a sharp, grasping clan produce a man so gentle and yielding? And how could they all turn and prey upon him alone?
“Father!! Why must you always be this way!!” Tears spilled freely.
“Always yielding! Always swallowing pain! From the day I was small—you bore every hurt in silence! But you may not care for yourself—I care! You are the only family I have! Father—if anything were to happen to you… I would have no one left who truly loves me…”
She wept as if releasing every grievance of two lifetimes. Shen Dajun’s heart broke for her. He stood helpless, brushing at her tears with trembling hands.
“Niannian… don’t cry… don’t cry, my dear… it is Father’s fault… forgive me…”
But the more he said it was his fault, the harder she wept—for she loved him so deeply it hurt.
Gu Yanzhi stood beside them, stunned. He had never seen her so undone. And he had never guessed—when he came to propose, when he saw the household putting on a polite face, likely impressed by his family’s standing and the betrothal gifts—what truly lay beneath. He had heard they held one wedding for two daughters marrying the same day; that had seemed reasonable enough. But now he recalled how only the Second Household had bustled and feasted, as though only their daughter was being married in splendor. He had never asked Shen Niannian about her life before. He had never imagined how much they had suffered.
Seeing them clinging together in grief, Gu Yanzhi’s own heart ached as though pierced by a thousand needles.
“Niannian—please, don’t cry. Then let us take Father home with us. We have rooms enough in our family home. My parents are kind—you know they would welcome him.”
Shen Niannian wiped her eyes and shook her head. Shen Dajun also waved his hands quickly.
“No—no, Yanzhi, my good boy. Your kindness warms me, truly. But I cannot come. I have lived in this village all my days. I would not know how to live away from this land. And besides—what sort of custom is it for a newly married daughter to bring her father to live with her husband’s family? I will not have the two of you gossiped about!”
He brushed the tears from her cheeks, his eyes glistening, and smiled tenderly down at her.
“Besides—I am content knowing you are happy. And Yanzhi is a fine young man. If the two of you build a good life together… that is all I could ever ask.”
He was barely forty, his skin dark and weathered. When he smiled, lines fanned across his face—yet to Shen Niannian, it was the most beautiful smile in all the world. He had taken her in at twenty-six and never married afterward. No woman wanted to step into the role of stepmother. Yet through every village whisper, through every curse and slight from the Shen family—he had never once thought of giving her up. Whenever the family wronged her, he had stepped between them. In Shen Niannian’s heart, she understood fully what it meant: a father’s love is as solid as a mountain.
Shen Dajun had always been her greatest strength. Uneducated, a simple farmer—yet in her eyes he stood taller than anyone. That was why, in her past life, news of his sudden death had nearly broken her. Now, in this life, to see him standing before her—alive—she was overwhelmed with joy. And with that joy came unbearable pain. Especially seeing his leg, twisted and wrong. She knew with certainty: her grandmother had spent not a single coin to have it tended.
She took his arm firmly.
“Come, Father. I am taking you to the health clinic.”