Old Master Zhang never imagined that his daughter-in-law would ultimately make such a decision. Back then, they had exhausted all their resources, stopped at nothing to return to this ho. Now, they had finally co back to this ho, but over such a small twist of fate, she chose to leave. Was it really his fault? Had he truly made a mistake in forcing them ti and again?
But thinking back, every single action he had taken, every ounce of harm done to the family—it was impossible to forget. These wounds had always stayed deep in his heart, unchanged, etched into his mind ti and ti again. All of it had been inflicted upon him by them. So why had he repeatedly shown them rcy? Was it simply because he was their father?
"When you said those words today, does that an your mind is made up, or are you just acting on impulse? I hope before making any decisions, you think thrice and act wisely. Don’t rush headlong into things like in the past. Do you think that every ti you make a mistake, no one will bla you? Over and over again, you believe that when you realize your mistake and decide to return, others will unequivocally forgive you every ti?
In truth, you know better than anyone else that this is not possible. No one would tolerate it the way you are imagining. Every single thing you do—you ought to reflect on its consequences. What kind of harm does it bring to your family? Are you truly justified in thinking your actions are honorable? You always believe you are acting out of righteousness, but who could know that your actions only deepen others’ suffering, leaving them in impossible predicants?"
Zhang Zhentian, every decision you make today, I hope you’ve thought carefully before making it. Otherwise, you’ll definitely regret it later. If today you choose to leave this family, then you’ll never have any chance to step foot through this door again.
Think about it carefully. Is there truly no fault in what you’ve done? Don’t always believe that we falsely accuse you. If there is genuinely no error in your actions, how could anyone falsely bla you so easily? Reflect on the mistakes you’ve made—what are they? What have you treated everyone in this family as?
I once had great hopes for you. I always thought as long as I treated you sincerely and welcod you wholeheartedly back into this ho, you’d repent with genuine remorse. You wouldn’t be like this, making everyone uncomfortable. But in the end, what was the outco? Did you ever allow to return? You didn’t. You kept thinking of ways to push away, ti and ti again. Do you consider your father at all?
The harm you’ve caused everyone in this family—perhaps I could leave it in the past, act as if it never happened. Because to , you are still my son, no matter what. As long as you are willing to co back ho, the door to this family will always be open to you. But after all that’s happened, I take back every decision I’ve made. If you truly choose to leave this ho, then leave and never co back. Once you leave, there will be no reason to return. Do you think that after leaving, you’ll be able to co back? Do you believe the door to this family will still open for you after you’ve left? Making mistakes repeatedly is one thing; persisting in them is the ultimate taboo."
How could Zhang Zhentian not realize that his father was subtly trying to persuade him to stay? But if he truly chose to stay now, his wife would leave him. How should he decide? What he wanted was for everyone to stay together. He couldn’t let his wife leave so senselessly. If it truly ca down to one person having to leave, he would rather choose to leave himself. Although he longed to remain in this ho to care for his father and protect his son, he couldn’t let his wife wander outside alone while he stayed here indifferently.
"Dad, you know how much I love my wife. For her sake, I would even give up my life. If today, you ask to stay here, but she leaves, how am I supposed to go on living? Over ten years of companionship, decades of solidarity and interdependence—do you understand that feeling? We’ve always wandered outside; we’ve never had a real ho. Back then, we treated everywhere as our ho, wherever we stopped."
All those years, I yearned to have a ho, longed for my father to let stay at ho. But in the end, every wish was shattered; even the last shred of hope was extinguished!
Sotis, I don’t even know how to live in this society anymore. I don’t know how to face the world. I’ve been terrified—I’ve withdrawn, closed off from everything. I fear that everyone in this world will abandon , because I’ve already been abandoned ti and ti again. You’re my father; of all people, you should understand my feelings. I’ve been abandoned in this family before.
You all should understand my feelings, shouldn’t you? Everything is inseparable from the actions of each person in this family. All this pain has been inflicted on collectively by everyone here. How could I easily forget all the things you’ve done? What I desire is very simple now—so little. Ti and again, each hope has been shattered. I’ve grown numb. I don’t care who asks to leave this ho anymore. I also don’t care if it’s leaving. What I care about is the wife who has been by my side all these years—can she be happy every day? All I want is her smile; I have no other requests.
Maybe in your eyes, you believe I’m an unfilial son. Why, after all this, am I still so stubborn? Why do I continue to treat my wife as the most important person in my life, using her as an excuse to hurt everyone in this family? But do you think I have a choice? In any case, I will never abandon my wife to return to this ho. That would be far too selfish.
Yes, I have always been selfish by nature. But no matter how selfish I am, I would never stoop to the point where I could casually abandon my wife!"
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