Chapter 578: Extra—Zuo Shangdang

Chapter 578: Extra Chapter—Zuo Shangdang

"Ugh, how’d you make a mess again? Didn’t I just clean you up?"

A burly woman swiped at him with a grimy rag, slapping the food off Zuo Shangdang’s clothes. The rag cracked against his body—*whap, whap, whap*—stinging a little, but he was used to it.

His words dragged, quiet and deliberate, "Please... call my son, Zu Ying... for me. I don’t want his money, I just want to see him."

The woman tuned him out like static. He had been saying the same thing ever since he was sent here. They’d dialed his son a dozen times—radio silence—except for the monthly payment of 280 yuan, which arrived on time, so they kept him fed and washed, no more, no less.

Zuo Shangdang had suffered a sudden stroke three years ago. His body was broken, but his thoughts? Razor-sharp.

All these years, he had never given up searching for Hou Li and his children. Qian’s second son got him a gig babysitting a construction site at Longxiang Mansion, giving him a stable income and more time to investigate. The older he got, the more he missed the days when his wife and children were by his side.

He knew he was wrong. His current fate was entirely his own doing.

He had planned to save up some money and go look for Hou Li and their children, but by chance, he overheard one of Second Brother Qian’s subordinates slip up—Second Brother Qian was in contact with Zu Ying.

The news hit him like a dumbbell to the chest. He begged Second Brother Qian to give him news of Zu Ying, even kneeling before him.

Second Brother Qian refused but, moved by his pleas, agreed to ask Zu Ying on his behalf.

Like a death-row inmate counting cracks in the ceiling, Zuo Shangdang waited anxiously by the door as Second Brother Qian made the call.

Zu Ying didn’t hesitate: "No." Flat. Final. He did not acknowledge this father and told Zuo Shangdang not to disturb the peaceful life he and his mother had built.

Zuo Shangdang was heartbroken. All he wanted was a glimpse—was that too much? He didn’t expect forgiveness, but he hadn’t anticipated that Zu Ying wouldn’t even consult Hou Li before rejecting him outright.

Zuo Shangdang didn’t give up. He wondered if it was because he had nothing left, because he was old, because Zu Ying feared he would become a burden.

It didn’t matter. He would prove he wanted nothing from them. He survived on gruel and pickled radish, penny-pinching till his ribs showed. Besides his job, he collected scrap to sell, saving every penny. Good dads paid for weddings, bought apartments—hell, he’d beg on the street if it helped. He would do the same.

Year after year passed. Watching the numbers in his savings account slowly grow, he began to hope again. When he saw Hou Li, he would apologize properly. Everything was his fault. He had wronged her, wronged their children. He knew that now.

But then, he received a call from a police station in the south. It was Lu Yazhi. They were putting her in front of a firing squad. Over the phone, she wept bitterly, begging him to come see her one last time.

Zuo Shangdang neither agreed nor refused. He simply hung up.

Lu Yazhi had been his oxygen, his opium—the second daughter of a wealthy family, the brat who’d clung to his shirt yelling *Shangdang-ge!*

He’d been her human shield against every hurricane for decades, yet she had abandoned him. Even now, he couldn’t bring himself to hate her. He sat cross-legged on his bed all night. Every damn choice had backfired.

He loved Lu Yazhi, but he should never have dragged Hou Li into it. Hou Li had been innocent from the start.

If only he hadn’t sought out Hou Li back then. Should’ve married Yazhi and eaten dirt with pride. Maybe they would have struggled for years, but at least Lu Yazhi wouldn’t have spent her life in hiding, Jin’an might’ve stayed out of prison, and Hou Li would have married a man who truly cherished her.

It was all wrong, but it was too late.

That very night, he collapsed at home. The next day, when the construction site gate remained unopened, the foreman found him foaming at the mouth and hauled ass to the ER, saving his life.

He thought, *Surely now, after all this suffering, Zu Ying will come.* Second Brother Qian did contact Zu Ying again, but the answer was the same—he refused to meet, only instructing Second Brother Qian to send Zuo Shangdang to a nursing home.

Zuo Shangdang pulled out his savings passbook. Over two thousand yuan—every scrap of cash he’d scraped together in a decade. He grabbed Qian’s arm, voice cracking, "Tell Zu Ying I have money. I don’t need his. I just want to see him. Please, ask him to come."

Second Brother Qian made the call, then returned with the same reply: Zu Ying’s answer? A dial tone.

He was sent to the nursing home. Because he needed a wheelchair and couldn’t care for himself, the fees were higher. Doctors and diapers bled his account dry in months.

He feared he might die, but then Zu Ying began covering his expenses—every month, without fail. A stupid, stubborn hope took root. *Was that check a lifeline—or just guilt money?*

He asked the nursing home staff to call Zuo Zuying, but Zuo Zuying still refused to see him.

Zuo Zuying only sent money—covering his nursing home bills, mattress fees, and medicine when he was unwell. Whenever the nursing home asked, he sent the money. But no matter how much Zuo Shangdang pleaded, he just wouldn’t come to see him.

Another year passed, and Zuo Shangdang felt himself growing weaker, often struggling to breathe. He asked the nursing home to call Zuo Zuying again, telling him he might not last much longer and that his dying wish was to see him one last time.

On the other end of the line, Zuo Zuying said his mother was remarrying and he had no time.

Zuo Shangdang wept bitterly. The next day, he begged the staff to call again, wanting to speak to Zuo Zuying himself. The staff pitied him and, knowing Zuo Zuying didn’t want to see Zuo Shangdang, quietly passed him the phone.

Gripping the phone, Zuo Shangdang pleaded cautiously, “Zu Ying, I’ve done many wrong things, but I never meant to hurt you. I just lost my way…”

Before he could finish, the call was hung up.

Zuo Shangdang stopped eating and drinking, but he still couldn’t accept it. He cried every day, convinced he’d die with his eyes wide open. He told the nursing home staff, “Let Zu Ying come claim my body. Just tell him I’m dead.”

He desperately wanted to see his son one last time, to say sorry. The staff, moved by his misery, made the call. The reply from the other end was icy: “Dead? Understood. Please arrange for cremation—I’ll send the money.”

The nursing home explained that a relative’s signature was needed, and paperwork only family can handle.

Three days passed, and Zu Ying still hadn’t come. Five days, six, seven…

The staff were stunned. Most elderly people in their final days without food or water lasted only two or three days.

But Zuo Shangdang was still alive on the eighth day, though just a skeleton clinging to life. On the ninth day, Zuo Zuying finally arrived.

When Zuo Zuying saw Zuo Shangdang, his cheeks were sunken, his body skeletal, curled up on a small bed like a shriveled corpse.

The moment he saw Zuo Zuying, Zuo Shangdang’s eyes lit up, tears streaming down. He opened his mouth, fighting for every breath, but only a whisper escaped.

“Zu… Ying, y-you came… I’m… sorry…”

Zuo Zuying’s face hardened as he stepped forward and said softly, “I know you wanted to see me, but I didn’t want to see you. Everything now is the consequence of your own actions. What you’re suffering is your karma catching up.”

“Don’t keep saying you never harmed us. Lu Yazhi and Lu Jin'an’s existence was the greatest harm to us. You used my mother your whole life, seized the Hou family’s ancestral property to support them, and let their ambitions grow unchecked. Back in A City, Lu Jin'an tried to kill me multiple times—don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“If I hadn’t fought back, none of us would have survived. That’s how the game works—you chose their side. You made your bed—now lie in it.”

Zuo Shangdang trembled, tears blurring his vision. Though he had no strength left, Zuo Zuying’s words struck him with painful clarity. He wanted to say no, it wasn’t like that, but he couldn’t speak.

Zuo Zuying felt no pity. “You only regret this now because you lost. If Lu Yazhi and Lu Jin'an had won, would you even remember you had a son named Zuo Zuying?”

“As a son, you failed your parents, abandoning them to my mother. As a father, you failed your duty, dumping it on her. As a husband, you betrayed her. If there’s a next life, learn to be decent.”

Zuo Shangdang’s pupils dilated, his stare vacant, refusing to close.

“Good. In my next life, I’ll be a good person—filial as a son, responsible as a father, loyal as a husband.”