Chapter 64: The Era’s Beloved Scapegoat? It Doesn’t Matter—My Father Will Take Care of Everything (Part 1)

The two sisters had become the only dissenting voices in the family against the favored Koi child.

The original father was frugal with himself, seldom eating well or dressing nicely, sending every penny he earned home to his family. When his daughters’ birthdays came around, he would buy them fashionable, expensive clothes from the city and mail them as gifts. After his wife passed away, he worked even harder, knowing his daughters would now rely on their grandparents and extended family for care. Fearing his girls would be mistreated, he poured all his energy into earning money, buying gifts for both his daughters and the family, increasing the sums he sent back each year.

He believed that, with all the money he sent, his parents and siblings would treat his daughters well, never seeing them as leeches draining their resources. Only during the New Year did he manage to return home and see his girls. Sometimes, not even then—when others left for home, he stayed behind, earning more. When he did return, it was only for a few days, but even in that brief time, he noticed a stark difference: his younger brother also had a daughter, and their parents doted on her. Not only his parents, but his second brother, eldest sister, and youngest sister—all showered the niece with gifts, even if they themselves couldn’t visit.

His own daughters, meanwhile, were invisible, neglected and ignored. This blatant favoritism soured his feelings toward the Koi niece. That was the root of his antipathy toward her. For this resentment, he suffered misfortune after misfortune and met his end.

After his death, Liu Feng and Old Qin treated Qin Zhizhi and Qin Sansan as household servants, constantly scolding and beating them. If Qin Zhizhi talked back, Liu Feng slapped her hard. Zhizhi, clever as she was, bullied the Koi child only when adults weren’t watching, but the Koi’s luck always protected her, leaving Zhizhi to suffer instead.

Once, during the New Year, Zhizhi pushed the Koi child into the water and was locked in the pigsty by Liu Feng. While the rest of the family celebrated, welcoming the new year, Zhizhi shivered with cold in the pigsty. If Sansan hadn’t run over crying, crawling in to hug her sister, Zhizhi might have frozen to death.

The Qin family saw themselves as benefactors to the orphaned sisters, believing they owed the girls nothing more. To them, Zhizhi and Sansan were ungrateful wolves—one failing to defer to her younger sister, the other lacking respect for her elder. The sisters often looked at them with eyes full of hatred.

By the time they reached middle school age, the Qin family washed their hands of them, moving to the city and locking up the old house, refusing to let the sisters stay. Only thanks to kind neighbors did the girls survive.

The sisters were orphans and should have received government assistance, but the Qin family, now proud city residents, thought accepting poverty subsidies would tarnish their reputation. So, the aid vanished.

Zhizhi dropped out early to work and support Sansan. Sansan, determined and diligent, always ranked at the top of her class and eventually got into an excellent university.

The nightmare was, the Koi child attended the same university. She couldn’t understand why the sisters harbored such animosity toward her—she’d done nothing, felt sympathy for them, and always tried to be kind.

But the sisters wanted nothing from her, only to stay as far away from her and the Qin family as possible.

The Koi child tried to befriend Sansan, but Sansan never reciprocated. This alone made Sansan a target, and rumors about her spread, simply because others disliked her. Sansan was eventually expelled for "negative influence," and Zhizhi, upon hearing the news, sought out the Qin family for answers.

Instead of answers, she was beaten bloody by her uncle and cousin.

Zhizhi’s hatred for the Qin family grew. She could endure their mistreatment of herself, but not their destruction of her sister’s future. She then turned her anger against the Koi child, seeking revenge on the Qin family. In the end, she only hurt herself; the Koi child always escaped misfortune, while Zhizhi suffered, was assaulted, filmed, and forced into selling herself.

If the Koi child was the darling of the group, then the sisters were the classic tragic villains.

What misery.

Qin Ye let out a hiss—Koi child? He’d raised one before, but it ended up being eaten by his little uncle’s cat.

What a sin!

He offered a half-hearted confession, then began to examine the original soul’s obsession.

The father’s deepest wish was to carve out a brilliant future for his daughters, so they might never have to bow and scrape in their husband’s homes.

In 1980, the wave of individual entrepreneurship was rising; factory workers were no longer the most coveted "iron rice bowl." Still, most people aspired to be factory workers, and few dared to strike out as entrepreneurs. At such a time, anyone brave enough to try could achieve something.

As the saying goes, when the wind rises, if you stand at the right place, even a pig can soar.

The original father was such a person. The Qin family had many siblings, but limited land, barely enough to sustain them all. After marrying, seeing his parents favor the youngest son and treat his own family as beasts of burden, he wanted to escape. When he saw a childhood friend from the neighboring village return, flush with cash, he immediately decided to follow him to the city to earn money.

His courage transformed the Qin family’s fortunes. Before, they barely had enough to eat; after he started sending money, they ate well and even tasted meat now and then.

The more he earned, the better the family’s circumstances became.

In short, the entire Qin family owed their improvement to him.

No matter how favored the Koi child was, the family’s conditions were what they were. Even if she was cherished, it only meant she had enough food. Better conditions? Dream on.

And yet, because he didn’t dote on the Koi child, he died miserably?

That Koi must surely be a black Koi.

No wonder he disliked her—the difference in treatment between his daughters and the Koi child was glaring. The money he sweated for was spent spoiling the niece, while his own daughters wore ill-fitting rags. The pretty dresses he bought ended up on the Koi child. He wasn’t stupid; how could he like her?

Unless he, like his sisters, would give the last grain of rice to the Koi child, even if his own children went hungry.

Qin Ye opened his eyes and beckoned to the timid little girl.

A child of three or four, holding her one- to two-year-old sister.

Such a sight would break hearts in the modern world, for fear the children would fall.

But here, it was nothing remarkable.

Qin Ye reached out and pulled both children into his embrace.

The younger one was still tiny, sleeping and eating all day.

At this point, the original father’s wife was already gone, but the family hadn’t told him; he only learned upon returning home. Soon, he would quarrel with his family, then spot the Koi child peeking timidly at the door. In his foul mood, he called for the Koi child’s mother to take her away.

The Koi child concluded her uncle was difficult.

But she was a true child, with no adult memories or thoughts—just pure innocence.

What did that matter to Qin Ye?

The original father wasn’t strong or tall, barely reaching about five feet three. His childhood was spent working before he could even walk, helping in the fields as soon as he could stand, even if it was only to pull weeds. Hunger was the norm, so his lack of stature and strength was no surprise. Only in later generations, as life improved and nutrition caught up, would children shoot up to five foot seven or eight by middle school.

Still, Qin Ye’s hands were steady enough.

Both children were light, true human cubs.

“Zhizhi, call me Dad.”

“Dad.”

Qin Ye chuckled, first carrying sleeping Sansan to the bed.

The room was filthy and messy; he didn’t yet know his wife was gone, so he was still angry. But Qin Ye knew the truth and sighed, rolling up his sleeves to tidy the room.

Zhizhi helped, not making a mess but genuinely assisting.

Once the room was clean, Qin Ye took Zhizhi’s hand and went to the kitchen to fetch a bowl, intending to make her malted milk.

In the kitchen, he found all the cupboards locked—including the bowls.

Qin Ye...

He couldn’t be bothered to call the original’s mother, Liu Feng. Instead, he grabbed a bag, carried the younger child on his back, took the elder by the hand, and walked straight out the door.

Liu Feng, hiding in her room, heard the commotion and snorted, “The eldest is now earning outside, thinks himself accomplished, looks down on us who scrape by in the fields, thinks I’m an embarrassment.”

Old Qin glanced at her, speechless. “You’re always making trouble. The eldest just came home, and you don’t even greet him, just rummage through his bags. And that malted milk powder—do you know how expensive that is in town? You immediately wanted it for Sui Sui. How do you think the eldest feels?”

“Sui Sui is his niece! What’s wrong with giving it to her?” Liu Feng retorted.

She wouldn’t exchange another word with him unless he came begging.

Old Qin’s life had improved over the years, thanks to the eldest. Though he favored the youngest, he valued the eldest deep down. But with Liu Feng so obstinate, he couldn’t be bothered to argue—lest she throw a fit and bring the whole village out to watch him be humiliated.