Chapter 3

Chapter 3

At breakfast, when they found out I had to take the truck out again today, neither of my children was very happy.

My son was only five this year, right at the age where he threw himself around in tantrums and refused to listen to a word I said.

My daughter was thirteen. Sometimes she was so sensible she seemed like an adult, and that only made me feel even more heartbroken and guilty.

My wife had passed away early. For my two children, aside from me, their father, their only family was their maternal grandmother.

I was usually out on the road driving a big rig, often gone for ten days to half a month at a time.

The children had already lost their mother. Now even their father’s company had become something rare.

I raised my hand and stroked the back of my daughter’s head. She kept her head lowered and didn’t say a word.

“Xixi, don’t be mad. Dad’s only working in the neighboring city this time. I’ll be able to make it back every night.”

“Once this run is over, I’ll take you, your little brother, and Grandma to the seaside.”

My daughter still didn’t speak. She only nodded silently.

I knew she was hurt. She wanted me to stay home more and be with them. But I didn’t know how else to explain it to my children.

The truth was, I couldn’t even convince myself.

Ever since I was born, people had said my birth chart was too heavy, that my fate was too hard.

When I was little, I never took it seriously. Not until my baby sister died young.

Even now, I still clearly remembered the day my sister was buried. There were always people in the village whispering behind my back:

“That boy from the Long Family has a hard fate. He brings misfortune to his kin.”

“Exactly. After his mother gave birth to him, she miscarried so many times. She finally managed to have another child, and that one didn’t even make it past seven months.”

It was on that day that I truly realized having a hard fate might not be a good thing.

Should I believe in fate? I didn’t know.

When I was young, I never wanted to dwell on that question.

At eighteen, I left home and went out into the world on my own.

No matter how dangerous the roads were, I dared to drive them. I drove big rigs, charged through cursed stretches of road, and encountered all sorts of strange things.

I thought I could hold up my own fate.

But later, I stopped for a short while and used the money I’d saved to start a logistics company.

Within a few years, my parents were gone. The two of them didn’t even live to see their sixtieth birthdays.

Then came my wife. When she lay in that hospital bed and weakly let go of my hand, it felt as if fate had slapped me hard across the face.

And now, I was back behind the wheel.

I knew my family needed me, and I needed them too. But I couldn’t stop.

I could believe in fate, but I couldn’t surrender to it.