The rain was pouring down outside as I took a cab back to the shabby apartment complex I had lived in for two years. After getting out of the cab, I instinctively looked around to see if Betsy's Audi Q7 was parked downstairs.   

Luckily, the car wasn't there. Even luckier, I hadn't given the house keys back to Betsy yet. I thought optimistically, As long as she doesn't come back tonight, everything should work out fine without any trouble.  

I ran up to the apartment as fast as I could and put my luggage back in place in the shortest time. After making the bed, I stood under my umbrella at the bus stop, waiting for Oldschool Dad's arrival.

About ten minutes later, a bus from the long-distance bus station slowly drove over. I craned my neck, looking around, and sure enough, I saw Oldschool Dad get off the bus with his briefcase in hand.  

I waved to him and shouted, "Oldschool Dad, over here!"  

Oldschool Dad came over, looking a bit surprised. "Weren't you going out for dinner with your colleagues?" he asked.

"Dinner is a small matter. You coming is a big deal. I can tell what's more important." I took the briefcase from Oldschool Dad's hands and carried it for him.  

Oldschool Dad stayed silent and followed me into the apartment complex.  

I complained, "Oldschool Dad, next time you come on a business trip, take a taxi straight here, okay? It's reimbursable anyway!"  

"Public money is still money. Every little bit helps." Oldschool Dad's tone was stern.  

"Our government has hundreds of billions in foreign exchange reserves in the US. They won't miss the money for your taxi fare!"  

Oldschool Dad didn't say anything, obviously unwilling to argue with me over values. He had always been like this. As long as he believed he was doing the right thing, he never bothered to explain. It was as if he lived in an independent world of his own, where he had remained deputy section chief for 15 years.   

...  

Back in the apartment, Oldschool Dad took out a stainless steel lunchbox from another bag besides his briefcase and said to me, "I caught some wild grass carp fish last week. Your mom cooked it for you. You can heat it up to eat whenever you want, or eat it cold."  

"Let's eat it tonight then."  

Oldschool Dad looked at me quizzically. "Didn't you already eat with your colleagues?"  

"I just came back halfway through to see you." I quickly changed the subject. "By the way, did you bring the sticky rice wine my mom brewed this time, Oldschool Dad?"  

Oldschool Dad nodded and took out a bottle that used to contain orange juice. Inside was the sticky rice wine I loved to drink.    

Oldschool Dad and I each poured a glass of sticky rice wine and ate the cooked grass carp fish and peanuts, waiting for the congee to finish cooking in the rice cooker. We chatted on and off.  

I was a bit distracted, worried that Betsy might suddenly come back. Scaring her wouldn't matter, but if Oldschool Dad found out the truth, I'd be dead.   

...

Just as I finished a glass of sticky rice wine, I heard footsteps outside the door, followed immediately by the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. I panicked a little, glancing at Oldschool Dad and then at the door, close at hand.  

The door opened, and sure enough, Betsy walked in. The scene before her made her freeze in place. Oldschool Dad didn't react much either, simply taking Betsy for my roommate or maybe girlfriend.   

Before Betsy could say anything, I grabbed her arm in concern and asked, "Have you been drinking? Let me help you inside... Don't thank me. We're roommates, so this is just what I should do."  

While my words sounded polite, I covered Betsy's mouth with my hand where Oldschool Dad couldn't see. In a few steps, I pushed her into her room.  

"You scumbag...let go of me!" Betsy struggled to say through my hand.  

"Don't yell!" I said in a low voice.  

Betsy struggled to take her phone out of her pocket. Any idiot could tell she was going to call the police to deal with me. My behavior certainly qualified as unlawful trespassing.   

I snatched the phone from her hands and pushed her onto the bed, straddling her to prevent further struggling. I didn't care how thuggish I looked.  

in a low, anxious voice, "Don't you dare yell! If my dad hears, I'm dead!" 

Betsy ignored me completely, staring in fear and disgust. Her instincts made her grab my hair tightly. 

The pain was unbearable, but I didn't dare make a sound. "Let go, you're pulling my hair out!" 

"You scumbag..." Betsy mumbled through my hand over her mouth.  

"I'm a scumbag, alright!" I said angrily. Then in a low voice, "But not in my dad's eyes! He has high blood pressure. If he knew I was penniless and homeless, he'd be so upset he might have a stroke...Big sister, just put up with me for one night. He's here on a business trip and will leave tomorrow morning...I promise I'll never bother you again!"

Betsy finally stopped struggling and let go of my hair, but her beautiful eyes still gazed at me with hatred and disgust.  

I carefully removed my hand covering Betsy's mouth. This time she didn't scream, to my relief.   

I heaved a long sigh, then realized I was still straddling Betsy. Just as I was about to get off with an apologetic look, Betsy twisted her body and shoved me hard. With a crash, I tumbled straight off the bed.  

"Sunny, what are you doing in there?" Oldschool Dad asked when he heard the noise. 

Grimacing in pain, I said, "I bumped into the cabinet..." 

Oldschool Dad didn't ask any more questions. Betsy finally looked at me with a smile that was more angry than amused.  

"I'm warning you not to say anything! My dad really does have high blood pressure. He can't handle shocks. Stay in your room and don't come out!" 

Betsy neither agreed nor disagreed.

I made another pleading gesture, but she still didn't say anything. I could only reassure myself that she had acquiesced by default. I looked at her imploringly once more before walking out of the room. 

... 

When I came to the living room, Oldschool Dad had already dished up three bowls of congee. He said to me, "Sunny, take some congee to that girl. She should eat something after drinking, or she'll feel unwell." 

"Let her rest." 

As soon as I spoke, Betsy walked out of the room with her handbag... 

Given all the evil things I had done to Betsy before, even if she skinned me, it wouldn't be too much. Exposing me in front of Oldschool Dad at this moment would be retribution for what I deserved.  

Just as my legs went weak from anxiety, Betsy walked to the door without even glancing at me. It seemed she was going to leave the apartment to us for tonight. 

I was about to heave a sigh of relief when Oldschool Dad, usually taciturn, said to Betsy before she left, "Miss, I made you a bowl of congee. Drink it while it's hot." 

I wished Betsy would hurry up and leave. I kept signaling her with my eyes, but instead, Betsy looked at me and nodded to Oldschool Dad, "Thank you, Uncle." 

... 

Two people who had just fought tooth and nail now sat together at a table, drinking congee. I didn't dare make a sound, like a suspect who had done something wrong. I kept a close eye on Betsy out of the corner of my eye, unsure of her intentions. Still, she didn't seem to want to expose me to Oldschool Dad. She just took small sips of her congee. 

Oldschool Dad, as silent and focused during meals as always, finished his congee first. He got up, picked up his briefcase, and said to me, "You have someone staying over, so I'll stay at a hotel." 

I looked at Betsy and said to Oldschool Dad, "Don't go, Oldschool Dad. Just sleep here with me tonight." 

"I've been snoring loudly recently. You have to work tomorrow. I don't want to disturb your sleep." Oldschool Dad shook his head and took out a sweater from his bag. "Your mom knitted this for you." 

I took it and looked at it, puzzled. "Why did she knit two?" 

"Keep the other one for when you find a girlfriend. Home knitted sweaters are warm!" 

I felt a little choked up. I knew Oldschool Dad and Mom were hinting again that I should hurry up and find a girlfriend. 

I glanced at Betsy, who was still drinking her congee, and teased her, "It's getting cold. I'll give you a sweater later!"  

Betsy glared at me but didn't act up in front of Oldschool Dad. Still, I felt smug inside. 

...  

When he was leaving, Oldschool Dad took out 3,000 yuan from his wallet and placed it in front of me. "Here, take this." 

I laughed casually. "Why are you giving me money? I'm not short of cash!" 

Oldschool Dad put the money in my hand. "You're my son. I know your situation well. I've told you many times to use money wisely... Find time to pay the water and electricity bills." He glanced at the overdue bill on the floor.  

Suddenly, my nose felt sour. I wasn't the worry-free son my parents deserved. I tried to return the money to Oldschool Dad. "I really don't need it. Mom's health isn't good. Keep this to buy her some health products. I'll get paid next week." 

Oldschool Dad didn't say much and left the money on the table. He looked at Betsy again and walked out alone. 

...  

I followed Oldschool Dad downstairs to see him off. Always silent, he said to me, "That girl just now wasn't bad. Pretty too!" 

I stopped Oldschool Dad and pointed to the red Audi Q7 parked beside us. "Forget your fantasies, Oldschool Dad. She's not my type...See that car? That's hers." 

Oldschool Dad looked at the red Audi Q7, puzzled. I guessed he also found it strange that Betsy lived in such a shabby place with a car like that.  

As always, Oldschool Dad chose silence. He couldn't do anything about my terrible situation. Though we were reluctant to admit it, we were living in an age where money proved love. So I told him to forget his fantasies. I myself didn't dare fantasize!

That night, Oldschool Dad left me with one last sentence: "Work hard." 

Watching his aging back in the rain, I read in those words his expectations—that I would work hard, find a wife, and give him grandchildren... But Oldschool Dad, I was struggling helplessly in reality, burdened and torn. Those many "goods" would have to wait! But good?