Chapter 11
Chapter 11
A new Western-style chef’s knife had been added to the knife block at home.
As for the old one, Dad had buried it in a flowerpot.
He had buried more than just that knife.
That day, Lin Shishi had fled the suburban woods in a panic; it was lucky Dad was there to clean up her mess.
By the way, after Lin Shishi left, Bao Ying hadn’t actually drawn her last breath yet.
Those few stabs hadn’t hit any vital organs. If she had been rushed to the hospital in time, her life could have been saved.
Dad turned a deaf ear to the faint cries for help beside him, using handful after handful of dirt to smother every last sound.
“Youyou, do you like this gift?”
Dad looked at the photo on his phone dotingly, the corners of his mouth curling upward slightly.
A moment later, his strength seemed to fail him, and he collapsed onto his knees. His back arched as he began to twitch uncontrollably.
The man’s low, hoarse sobs echoed through the quiet woods.
Dad owed me so many gifts.
He always forgot my birthday, promising to make it up to me later.
But he broke his word every single time.
Eventually, he just started sending me money directly.
His love for me was nothing more than a set of numbers that appeared in my bank account on schedule every month.