Volume One, Chapter 19: The Whole Family Hospitalized Together

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Zhang Han finally managed to hold back the two of them, struggling to suppress a smile. The way they were fighting—there was no resemblance to father and son; they looked more like sworn enemies! Although Yang Song was half a head taller than his father, Yang Zhongrui, he was thinner and lacked strength, mostly taking blows passively. His already swollen face was bright red, his nose was bleeding, and his eyes barely opened a slit. Yang Zhongrui was in slightly better shape, but his face was covered in scratches, and his legs, waist, and hands bore bite marks from Yang Song, some flesh bitten raw.

The two lay on opposite sides, gasping heavily, utterly exhausted and too sore to move. Through a narrow opening, Yang Song recognized Zhang Han and gritted his teeth, "Zhang... Zhang Han, beat... beat that old loser to death for me."

“Yang Song, you’re out of your mind! He’s your father—how can you fight Uncle Yang like this?” Zhang Han scolded as he helped Yang Zhongrui sit down on a chair, then assisted Liu Yan, who was clutching her stomach, followed by Yang Song. The family of three slumped in their chairs, looking miserable.

Just then, the police arrived, dispersing the crowd. Seeing the three’s state, it was hard to take them to the station for questioning.

Before asking, they didn’t know; after asking, they were shocked. It turned out to be a family of three! The son and father had fought, with the mother caught in the middle. The police, speechless upon hearing this, saw the blood on the ground and the injuries on both men—clearly, they had intended to hurt each other badly! What kind of grudge could it be?

After taking their statements and giving a verbal reprimand, the police left.

No one knew who delivered the heavy kick to Liu Yan’s stomach, but it was severe. After a brief check, the doctor recommended a short hospital stay for observation. Liu Yan refused stubbornly: if she were admitted, who would take care of the father and son? The most important reason—there was no money.

Naturally, Zhang Han “unhesitatingly” stepped forward, confidently promising Liu Yan he would handle everything. Holding Zhang Han’s hand tightly, tears glimmered in Liu Yan’s eyes. “Xiao Han, thank you so much. Without you, I wouldn’t know what to do!”

Zhang Han leaned down and whispered a few words in her ear. Like an eighteen-year-old girl, she nodded shyly.

Neither of them had ever experienced the hospital like this before.

The entire family was now admitted.

Zhang Han busied himself tending to all three, deeply moving them. For a moment, staring blankly at the hospital ceiling, Yang Zhongrui and Liu Yan felt a flicker of conscience. Had they done wrong? Such a good child—kind at heart, neither arrogant nor impatient.

Zhang Han specially arranged a single room for Liu Yan, with the father and son’s wards on opposite ends—east and west—so they wouldn’t fight again, at least for now.

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But would it end here?

No!

Zhang Han carried some fruit and first visited Yang Zhongrui, who was leaning against the bed rail.

“Uncle Yang, I came to see you.” Zhang Han placed the fruit down and sat beside him, speaking softly, “Are you alright?”

Yang Zhongrui looked miserable, his head heavily bandaged with only his eyes, nose, and mouth visible. The places Yang Song had bitten were dressed and wrapped in gauze, but the fresh blood still seeped through. His pale lips trembled as he said, “Thank... thank you, Xiao Han.”

His eyes grew moist as he spoke.

“No need for thanks.” Zhang Han handed him a tissue. “I’ve always regarded you as my father and Aunt Yan as my mother. It’s only right to do this.”

“I’ll talk to Yang Song properly. If he dares to fight you, does he think he can reach the heavens?”

“I must make him apologize to you.”

Yang Zhongrui’s gaze was complex as he looked at Zhang Han. If it weren’t for Liu Zhong’s insistence to invest, he wouldn’t have owed over a million, nor hatched the sinister plan to frame Zhang Han...

From start to finish, Zhang Han wasn’t involved in a single cent. If anyone deserved hatred or punishment, it should be Liu Zhong!

He felt deeply guilty and painfully uncomfortable. Comparing Yang Song to Zhang Han was like night and day; the anger inside him was unbearable.

“Who says he has to apologize? From today on, I sever all father-son ties with him!”

“Every time I see him, I’ll hit him!”

“Ouch, my face!” Yang Zhongrui winced in pain, tugging at his wounds as Zhang Han’s words stirred his emotions.

“Alright, Uncle Yang, it’s late. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

“Wait, Xiao Han.”

The rift between Yang Zhongrui and Yang Song was irreconcilable. Middle-aged, unsuccessful, bedridden, and mocked by his son, his paternal dignity was shattered.

He didn’t want to lose both Yang Song and Liu Yan. If Liu Yan took Yang Song back to her parents’ house and ignored him, he would be utterly alone.

Zhang Han looked at Yang Zhongrui.

“How is your Aunt Yan?”

“She’s been checked. No serious injuries so far. The doctor suggested two days of observation,” Zhang Han said with a meaningful smile. “But don’t worry, she should be fine.”

“Thank you for everything, Xiao Han,” Yang Zhongrui said. “Please take good care of Aunt Yan for me.”

Zhang Han smiled slightly. “Uncle Yang, rest assured; I will care for Aunt Yan meticulously.”

After leaving Yang Zhongrui’s room, Zhang Han went to see Yang Song, who was badly beaten—clearly, Yang Zhongrui had gone all out. The pressure was immense: over a million in debt, mocked by his son, and hearing his son threaten to put his own mother with another man—how could he not be furious?

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No one could bear that.

“Stop playing dead! What happened to you?” Zhang Han admonished Yang Song sternly, his tone that of an elder teaching a youngster.

“He’s your father! After all these years of schooling, did you learn nothing?”

Yang Song’s eyes barely opened, a narrow slit visible. “He’s hardly worthy to be my father. He nearly pushed me onto...”

Yang Song swallowed hard the words “the path of crime.”

They had all conspired to frame Zhang Han; no one dared to expose the truth.

“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, from now on, that old bastard Yang Zhongrui won’t hear me call him ‘Dad’ again!” Yang Song said bitterly.

“That won’t do. Uncle Yang said as long as you kneel and apologize, the matter is settled. You’re still father and son.”

“No matter who’s right or wrong, the son should bow first.”

Zhang Han said this because he was certain Yang Song would never apologize.

He roughly guessed the reason why.

“To hell with him! He’s not worthy!”

Yang Song knew that with Yang Zhongrui’s salary, it might take forever to repay over a million—unless they sold the house. Even then, they’d still be short by two or three hundred thousand.

But if they sold the house, where would he live? How could he marry in the future?

The father was useless, and the son was suffering.

So he had to latch onto a very sturdy “big leg.”

Suddenly, Yang Song whispered to Zhang Han, “Zhang Han, come here. I have something to ask you.”

“What is it?” Zhang Han leaned closer.

“What do you think of my mother, Liu Yan?”

Zhang Han was puzzled. “Aunt Yan?”

“Do you think my mother is beautiful?”

“Beautiful.”

Yang Song winked at Zhang Han, lowering his voice.

“Then... do you want to be with her?”