Grandma 02

The facade of kindness lasted only a few days before Lin Meilan revealed her true nature.

She subjected Fang Zhiyi to constant abuse, berating him for being too quiet—just like his "good-for-nothing dead father"—and complaining that he ate too much.

The compensation money from his father's death was handed over by her to her bald-headed boyfriend to pay off gambling debts. The two lived lavishly for a while, but when the boyfriend lost everything again, they plunged back into poverty. Fang Zhiyi’s life grew even harder—he was pulled out of school, forced to do household chores, and became the punching bag for his mother and her boyfriend.

Whenever the bald man returned after losing money, he would fly into a rage at the sight of Fang Zhiyi’s face, cursing him for bringing bad luck while kicking and beating him. All the while, Fang Zhiyi’s mother sat by, watching with an indifferent expression.

Terrified, Fang Zhiyi tried to run away, but as a child unfamiliar with the city, he was quickly caught and dragged back, where he was beaten even more brutally. The bald man even burned over a dozen cigarette scars into his skin while Lin Meilan egged him on: "He’s just like his deadbeat father! Won’t listen unless you beat him!"

Then, on the night of the first winter snow, Fang Zhiyi accidentally broke a bottle of the bald man’s liquor while cleaning. Enraged, the man dragged him to the balcony, beat him senseless, and left him there to "reflect." His mother merely walked over and closed the curtains.

By morning, Fang Zhiyi was dead on the balcony.

His emaciated body was covered in scars.

"Damn, this is hard mode..." Fang Zhiyi muttered, looking down at his frail frame and then at the notoriously useless little black dog beside him.

"What are you staring at me for?"

Fang Zhiyi shook his head. "Let me think."

An hour passed in silence before loud voices interrupted him.

"Fang Zhiyi! Your dad’s dead!" The Village Party Secretary’s booming voice carried far.

Fang Zhiyi glanced at him. What a way to break the news.

Numbly, he followed them to handle the funeral arrangements. During the wake, he spotted someone in the distance.

At this point, the Village Party Secretary was negotiating compensation on his behalf, and the relatives hadn’t yet bared their fangs.

Fang Zhiyi already had a plan.

The moment his father was buried, he slipped away from the crowd.

"Hey, where’d Fang Zhiyi go?" Eldest Uncle was the first to notice his absence. He’d heard rumors about compensation for workplace deaths and had been calculating how much he could squeeze out of it.

"Who knows?" Third Aunt snorted. "Ungrateful little brat, running off right after his father’s funeral!"

Eldest Uncle shot her a look, mentally marking her and her family as rivals.

Meanwhile, at the dilapidated temple at the village’s edge, Zhao Yumei mumbled to herself as she lit a stick of incense.

"You were still a piece of me, yet you died before I did. What a useless son." She carelessly stuck the incense into a corner.

The temple door suddenly swung open, sunlight making her squint. Then she saw a small figure standing there.

Fang Zhiyi also saw her—his grandmother, Zhao Yumei.

In her youth, Zhao Yumei had been infamous as a "tough old shrew." She once broke her husband’s leg with a hoe, causing quite the scandal. Later, she fought Eldest Uncle over property, lying outside his door and screaming curses for three days straight until the village intervened and forced him to pay her off. When Third Aunt first married into the family, Zhao Yumei tried to "teach her her place." When Third Aunt talked back, Zhao Yumei dragged her by the hair and beat her face into the mud. From then on, Third Aunt avoided her like the plague.

She held grudges against the entire Fang family, including Fang Zhiyi’s father. Though he often gave her money, once when she demanded funds to buy some "holy relic" from a fraud and he refused, she chased him through the streets with a cleaver.

Because of this, after her husband’s death, no one wanted anything to do with her. The village eventually arranged for each household to contribute to her living expenses, letting her stay in the abandoned temple.

She didn’t mind. To her, the Fangs were all ungrateful snakes.

"Grandma!" Fang Zhiyi called out immediately.

Zhao Yumei blinked, sizing him up before delivering a verbal blow: "What’s this, you little bastard? Your dad dies and now you come crawling to me? I ain’t got money to waste on you."

Fang Zhiyi had expected this. Fine, let her curse—he’d still called her "Grandma," hadn’t he?

He stepped closer. "Grandma, I don’t need you to take care of me. I just want to live with you."

Zhao Yumei eyed him suspiciously. This brat was slightly better than the others—at least he greeted her—but he’d always been too timid to speak. Why the sudden change?

"Grandma, Dad always said if anything happened to him, you were the only one in this family who’d look after me." Fang Zhiyi put on a pleading tone. "I’ve eaten at Eldest Uncle’s and Third Uncle’s places, but they never let me have my fill. They made me work, and... I heard Dad’s death might come with compensation, but I wouldn’t know what to do with it."

A glint flashed in Zhao Yumei’s cloudy eyes. This clueless grandson didn’t understand, but she knew exactly what that compensation meant—serious money. She studied Fang Zhiyi again. Huh, the brat was growing on her.

"You’d really live in this broken-down temple with me?" she asked.

Fang Zhiyi nodded eagerly. "Wherever Grandma is, that’s home for me. When the money comes, I’ll give it all to you!"

Zhao Yumei’s mood improved. What a good grandson! Her eyes narrowed shrewdly. "This place is drafty and falling apart. How about I move in with you instead?"

Fang Zhiyi beamed. "Yes!" He immediately started gathering her belongings. Zhao Yumei had hoarded quite a bit, and by the time they finished packing, it was dark. Fang Zhiyi even flagged down a couple of villagers to help carry the load.

The two villagers exchanged glances as they watched Fang Zhiyi chatting warmly with Zhao Yumei. Was the boy out of his mind, inviting trouble like this? But then again, not their problem.

"Grandma, try this candy!" Back at the house, Fang Zhiyi dug out sweets he’d saved from his father.

Zhao Yumei took it, sniffed. "Hmph. Expensive stuff. Your dad could afford this but couldn’t spare a glance for his old mother rotting in a temple."

Fang Zhiyi’s expression fell, but Zhao Yumei just popped the candy into her mouth.

That night, she unceremoniously claimed her late son’s room. Fang Zhiyi lingered by the bed.

Annoyed, Zhao Yumei snapped, "What? Go to sleep!"

Fang Zhiyi hesitated before blurting out, "Grandma, when I grow up and earn money, I’ll buy you candy every day!" Then he bolted.

Zhao Yumei stared after him before chuckling. "Little brat’s learning to sweet-talk me." Despite her words, a smile crept onto her face.

For the next two days, Fang Zhiyi was the picture of diligence—tidying her things, washing her clothes, and showering her with flattery. Zhao Yumei couldn’t have been happier.