Fang Zhiyi firmly refused the kindness of others.
"There's no other way. The two of them are barely scraping by, and their three children don’t have enough to eat or wear. It’s all because this old bag of bones is useless..." he muttered as he carried the sack of flour away.
Fang Jianguo felt several pairs of eyes boring into him.
"He did it on purpose!" Chen Meihua shouted after hearing what happened.
Fang Jianguo quickly covered her mouth.
"Keep your voice down. What do we do now?" Uncle Li was also dragged into the mess. Some insinuated that he never called his own son to help, always relying on other people’s sons instead, which soured Uncle Li’s attitude toward Fang Jianguo. He simply waved him off, telling him not to come help anymore.
"Jianguo, why don’t we just send him back to the countryside? At most, we’ll give him eight hundred yuan a month." In Chen Meihua’s eyes, eight hundred was already a considerable sum. "Most importantly, with him here, our kids are starting to pick up his habits and becoming disobedient."
Fang Jianguo’s face darkened, but he eventually nodded. He stood up and headed to the kitchen, where Fang Zhiyi was preparing an afternoon meal for the children—he simply couldn’t trust the task to the couple.
"Dad," Fang Jianguo called out.
Fang Zhiyi didn’t turn around. "Spit it out if you’ve got something to say!"
"I was thinking—"
A knock at the door cut him off. Chen Meihua hurried to answer, and as soon as she opened it, a group of elderly men and women poured inside.
They looked familiar, though the couple didn’t interact with them much. These were folks whose children took care of them, spending their days dancing, strolling, and living off pensions—people who didn’t need help. Two of them had even donated money at the couple’s urging in the past.
Chen Meihua forced a smile. "Hello, uncles and aunties."
"Hello, hello," one old man replied, scanning the room. "Old Fang! We’re here!"
Fang Zhiyi emerged from the kitchen, spatula in hand. "You made it! Take a seat—I’m just finishing up the cooking!"
"Great! Finally get to taste your cooking today."
Fang Jianguo was dumbfounded. "Dad... what’s all this?"
Fang Zhiyi shot him a look. "What, can’t I have friends? Let me introduce them."
"That’s Old Zhang, chairman of the Senior Citizens’ Association."
"That’s Auntie Jin—half the gossip in this neighborhood comes from her mouth."
"That’s Auntie Zhou—loud voice, equally skilled at singing and cursing."
"And that’s Old Sun, my best buddy. Retired from the TV station, and his former apprentice still works there."
"That’s Auntie Hong—there’s nothing in this neighborhood or even the surrounding area she doesn’t know about. A walking encyclopedia."
"Oh, what were you going to tell me?" Fang Zhiyi asked with a grin.
Listening to the introductions, Fang Jianguo felt a chill. "N-nothing. Just asking when dinner’s ready."
"Eat, eat, eat—are you a starving ghost? Get lost!"
"Grandpa, when’s dinner?" Fang Yang peeked in.
Fang Zhiyi beamed. "Soon, don’t rush. Tell your brother and sister to wash their hands. Grandpa’s making a feast today!"
Even Fang Jianguo, dense as he was, could tell his father was displeased with him—but he couldn’t figure out why.
At the dinner table, Fang Zhiyi’s social skills left Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua stunned. Had they known so little about him? Since when was he this chatty? But soon, the conversation veered toward the children’s worn-out clothes, the cracked sofa, the wobbly table propped up with a wedge...
Fang Zhiyi lamented how "children these days have it hard," how "they’re always busy doing good deeds," and how "this old man just wants to earn a little extra." The elderly guests’ gazes toward the couple grew increasingly judgmental. To them, Fang Zhiyi was now a witty, kind-hearted old man who only wanted the best for his children—while his son and daughter-in-law were nothing but foolish hypocrites.
The meal left Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua squirming in their seats.
That night, in their room:
"Jianguo, did you talk to him?" Chen Meihua couldn’t take it anymore.
Fang Jianguo gave a bitter laugh. "How could I? Did you see the scene today? If he so much as hints that we’re trying to kick him out, do you really think the entire neighborhood—no, the entire district—won’t be pointing fingers and cursing us tomorrow?"
"I..." Chen Meihua despised Fang Zhiyi, but she cared more about her reputation.
Still, staring at her long-dormant social media feed, she couldn’t suppress her frustration. "But if this goes on, how are we supposed to live?"
Fang Jianguo hugged her. "It’s fine. Once we pay off these two months’ debts, we’ll have money again."
"But what if he keeps asking for living expenses?" Chen Meihua pressed.
Fang Jianguo fell silent before finally saying, "We’ll give it to him. He’s managing the household, cooking, and all. It’ll free up more time for us to help others, right?"
Reluctantly, the couple handed over the living expenses. Fang Zhiyi accepted without a word.
The breakfast stall continued to thrive. Fang Zhiyi’s steamed buns were thin-skinned and generously stuffed, his mantou soft and fluffy, not to mention the marinated eggs and porridge. Every morning, Fang Xiao and Fang Yang woke up early to help, despite Fang Zhiyi urging them to sleep more—the two children were surprisingly mature.
Fang Jianguo and Chen Meihua, however, still suffered. Though Fang Zhiyi handled the buns and mantou himself, he made sure to wake them in the dead of night to cook porridge and peel eggs. The moment they showed the slightest reluctance, Fang Zhiyi would snap, "Seems you’re sick of me. Fine, I’ll pack up and go back to the countryside. I’ll even say goodbye to all my friends and regular customers."
At that, the couple wilted. They couldn’t understand how, in just two months, Fang Zhiyi had befriended so many neighbors—and how they all seemed to take his side.
Sleep-deprived and underfed, the couple endured Fang Zhiyi’s tyrannical rule behind closed doors. Meat was for the three children. Eggs were for the three children. He even paid out of pocket to get them milk. When Chen Meihua tried to protest, Fang Zhiyi silenced her with a glare.
For the couple? Leftovers—pickled vegetables, plain rice, and occasionally an unsold marinated egg.
The aroma of the children’s meals taunted them. Before, when everyone ate the same thing, it hadn’t mattered. But now, with the stark contrast, resentment festered.
Yet they didn’t dare complain. At home, Fang Zhiyi was an outright bully—unreasonable, stubborn, and ready to escalate at the slightest provocation. For a couple obsessed with appearances, he was untouchable.
Finally, after two grueling months, their finances recovered. They immediately sent money to the impoverished students they’d neglected, and the long-awaited thank-you messages filled them with relief.