Adam, who had been listening the entire time, choked and nearly coughed. The veil of refracting lights surrounding him wavered slightly as his clenched fists loosened for a split second.
Sterile? If Min was, then who was Qing’s father? He massaged his eyes, taking a deep breath. Though he had suspicions, the time to act hadn’t come yet. But god, he had expected anything but to be embroiled in a family drama when he left this morning.
And what a drama! Qiao was clutching her husband’s frozen face, caressing his cheeks as tears streamed down her cheeks. Sobbing, she spoke, her voice grief-stricken and wronged.
"Min, oh Min. How can you let that stubborn cockroach insult me in our own house?" Amidst the fake sadness, her lips rose into a subtle, coquettish smile, the one he liked so much. "If you’re anything, you’re a mighty dragon, a bed monster who could make any woman’s head spin in pleasure. No. If anyone has problems conceiving children, it’s me. I... I’m lacking, I know. But didn’t the heavens bless us with your second child?"
Min’s empty gaze slowly focused on her wife’s eyes. Through the veil of tears, false compliments, and lies, he saw that gloating sparkle... and it made him blank for a second.
He knew that spark, the same one she had last year when she spoke about selling Qing to a witch she had met in the fields. The act itself still didn’t trouble him—it never had.
The girl was a useless leech that sucked off their limited resources. What did trouble, however, was to discover that all this time, his certainties of being in charge were mere threads woven in a tapestry of deceptions.
They had tried to conceive a child for a decade before he had given up. Yet, Qiao suddenly became pregnant, and he hadn’t doubted her in his delight. But the more years passed, the more Qiao grew disgusted with her own child, going from calling her a blessing to a parasite. And he agreed.
Whenever he looked at Qing, something didn’t click with him. Her blond hair was too different, and those pink eyes... he found them revolting. It was as if she hadn’t taken anything from him.
He clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing. Of course, she hadn’t. Qiao had manipulated him for over ten years! But more than anything, she had hidden his sterility from him.
His hand rose and fell without warning on the traitorous viper’s cheek.
The shrill noise and the feeling of hitting soft flesh spread through his bones. Yet, they did nothing to calm him.
"You disgusting bitch! I’ve worked my bones like a slave to feed you while you enjoyed yourself with other men."
Before the burning pain running across Qiao’s cheek could even settle, he kicked her off the sofa, roaring in rage. "You made me raise someone unrelated to me. I won’t forgive you. Never! Servant, beat the shit out of her this instant!"
The servant, however, remained rooted behind Wei, eyes wide and palms sweaty around his club. But if the revelations had shocked him, Qing saw her world crumble before her.
She stopped trembling and crying. Her hand let go of Wei’s pants, and her breathing caught in her throat. The illness, meeting the witch who offered to cure her parents, her father... everything had been a lie. Why had she loved these people... these monsters with all her heart? Why had she sacrificed herself and endured for them for so long? Was she a mere doll, manipulated into willingly locking herself in a pit of despair while thanking her tormentor?
Even worse, she would have never believed Wei had he recounted their crimes. She would have called him a liar, hated him for defaming them.
She clutched her aching chest, failing to breathe. Wei caught her before she collapsed, but she didn’t notice. Her thoughts were elsewhere, with someone else... the hero who had promised to grant all her wishes today.
"Big brother... please, take me far, far away from these monsters." She muttered in a choked voice that no one heard as the sad scene continued.
Clutching her searing cheek, Qiao pointed her finger at Min, screaming. "Your mansion, clothes, the food you eat, everything you have comes from me—and this is how you repay me? You pathetic shit. I regret the day I married you."
Veins throbbing on her forehead, she waved her hand and stomped the ground. "For a decade, you’ve hidden your earnings to drink with your friends while I shivered in a cold house, hungry, alone. You couldn’t feed me, protect me, or give me a child. You’re no man, just a goblin who stands on his toes to look bigger. But even then, I believed in you, thinking you only lacked what the heavens had refused you. How foolish I was! I went with other men—real men—and gave you a daughter. Yet what have you changed in the past six years?"
Her voice cracked into a haunting scream, filled with her past distress. "You made me share the little food I had with her while you emptied the tavern’s barrels faster than ever! If anyone has the right to feel betrayed here, it’s me and only me!"
As she panted after her outburst, Wei glanced at the duo, then at the stunned servant coldly. They were all distracted.
The time to act had come—the time to avenge his daughter’s sufferings.
He pushed Qing back, making the little girl gasp. In the same motion, he unsheathed an old knife from his belt and lunged at the servant who had crippled his right leg.
But he was too slow, too weak. The servant raised his club overhead and swung it down before he could reach him.
A loud crunch silenced the room as his left shoulder collapsed under the blow. Yet, he gritted his teeth through the agony. His left leg stomped the ground with a strength he didn’t know he possessed as he took the ultimate step to enter striking range, unaware of Adam’s silent help.
He growled, his knife flashed a silvery light, and the sensation of ripped flesh followed. Carried by his momentum, he crashed to the ground as his target turned toward him.
Filled with dread and unwillingness, the servant dropped his club to clutch a thin line drawn on his neck. He tried to speak, only managing disturbing gurgles as blood streamed through his fingers.
A shudder ran down Wei’s spine, numbing the pain in his shoulder. He saw the man’s legs buckle, his strong body collapse like a puppet having its string cut, and the thick blood pooling beneath him. His hair bristled at the scent, and his skin tingled from the act. It was the first time he had killed someone. He hated it.
But soon, he would kill two more. Soon, he would face judgment, his head held high before following them in whatever dark pit the heavens decided to shove him into.