Zhao Heng turned his gaze back to the two children.
Tiedan, also known as Zhao Gan, was still standing by the bed.
The little girl's body was as stiff as a stone, but she had stopped crying. Her big eyes were full of fear and anxiety as she stared at him intently.
That look was like looking at a monster that could spit fire at any moment.
Guoguo, who was standing at the door, seemed to have heard the noise in the house and stopped stuffing food into her mouth.
She turned her head and looked at him timidly with the same terrified eyes.
There was dirt on her face and green grass juice on the corners of her mouth.
That look made Zhao Heng's heart feel as if it were grasped by an invisible hand, and it suddenly tightened.
His throat was dry from the pain, and breathing was burning.
He is also a man with a daughter.
Zhao Heng's Adam's apple rolled violently. He wanted to say something, but his throat was so dry that it felt like smoking.
He lifted up the thin, hard, musty-smelling quilt on his bed and tried to get out.
He just moved.
Tiedan jumped back two steps like a frightened rabbit, his small body shaking with extreme fear.
Zhao Heng felt stabbed in the heart again.
What on earth did the original owner, that bastard, do to these two children?
He didn't look at his son again, fearing that his eyes would exacerbate his fear.
He slowed down his movements and walked towards his daughter at the door, step by step.
As he approached, fear almost flashed in the little girl's eyes.
She subconsciously wanted to hide backwards, but her thin body lost balance due to long-term hunger and she fell down on the cold ground.
"Wow..."
The huge fear finally overwhelmed the little girl's tense nerves.
She burst into tears.
The crying was no longer the suppressed whimpering of Tiedan before, but a howl full of despair and fear, sharp and fragile, as if he would die in the next second.
"Guoguo doesn't want to eat grass anymore. Daddy, please don't hit Guoguo..."
The little girl was crying and slapping her mouth with her black little hands, as if she wanted to get out all the grass roots she had just eaten.
Zhao Heng's steps seemed to be nailed to the spot.
Unable to move even an inch.
"Guoguo doesn't want to eat grass anymore. Daddy, please don't hit Guoguo..."
These words were not a heavy hammer, but a red-hot steel needle that pierced precisely into the softest part of his heart and then stirred violently.
He was forty years old, single, unemployed, divorced, and had experienced all the hardships and desolations that come with middle age.
But there has never been a moment like this, when the pain is so severe that all my internal organs seem to be dislocated.
He slowly, very slowly squatted down so that his eye level was with the little girl who was sitting on the ground.
He stretched out his hand, wanting to hug her, but saw his hand shaking uncontrollably in mid-air.
He is afraid.
Afraid of scaring her.
"Guoguo..."
He tried to speak, his voice as dry as sandpaper rubbing against wood, yet it carried a kind of extreme tenderness that he himself had not even noticed.
"Dad... Dad won't hit you."
"From now on, I will never fight again."
As soon as he finished speaking, Tiedan, who was standing not far away, suddenly rushed over with a roar like an enraged little leopard.
He stretched out his arms, which were so thin that only bones were left, and stood in front of his sister.
He used up all his strength and shouted at Zhao Heng.
"You are not allowed to hit my sister!"
"If you want to hit me, hit me!"
The boy's eyes were filled with tears, and his small chest was heaving violently with excitement and anger. He used his frail body to protect the only relative behind him.
Looking at this scene, Zhao Heng couldn't bear it anymore.
The forty-year-old man's eyes instantly became hot.
What surges out is not tears.
Being a father, the most instinctive thing is heartbreak.
He slowly withdrew his trembling hand, wiped his face with his dirty sleeve, and then moved the corners of his stiff mouth towards the two terrified children.
That expression is more heartbreaking than crying.
"Is there anything to eat at home?"
Tiedan was stunned.
He remembered his father, who would only beat and scold him when drunk, and would only have a gloomy face when sober. When had he ever spoken to him in that tone?
Don't even ask if there's food at home.
Because, finding food has always been his and his sister's job.
He hesitated, his voice as thin as a mosquito's.
"Rice...rice jar, it's gone."
"Yesterday, it was... gone."
Tiedan's voice became smaller and smaller, and he lowered his head gradually, as if it was his fault that he had no rice to eat.
Zhao Heng's heart sank inch by inch.
There is no food.
He held on to his body, leaning against the cold, damp earthen wall, gasping for breath.
The dizziness in his head and the emptiness in his stomach made him almost unable to stand.
He didn't dare look at the two children anymore and only looked at this so-called "home".
The thatched roof was sparse, and a few rays of sunlight leaked in, illuminating the dust dancing in the air.
A wooden table with missing legs, supported by stones.
There was a small pile of dry firewood in the corner, and a chipped clay pot next to it.
That's all.
Today, he finally truly understood the meaning of the phrase "penniless".
"Gurgle…"
A clear sound broke the silence in the room.
The sound came from Zhao Yu's lower belly.
Zhao Heng's heart was tugged hard again.
Must do something.
At this moment, the broken door made of wooden boards was gently pushed open from the outside.
"Squeak—"
A woman in a coarse cloth skirt leaned in. It was our neighbor Xiumei.
In her hand, she held a large clay bowl with a hole in it, steam rising from it.
When Xiumei saw Zhao Heng standing against the wall, she was so frightened that her hands shook and she almost spilled the rice soup in her bowl.
"Zhao...Zhao Tongsheng, are you awake?"
Her tone was filled with nervousness and fear that she couldn't hide.
After all, it was her man who knocked Zhao Heng unconscious yesterday.
Relevant memories emerged in Zhao Heng's mind. Wang Zhuo and his wife were the few people in the village who would help the original owner's family.
"Sister-in-law of the Wang family."
Zhao Heng spoke, his voice still hoarse, but his tone was unusually calm.
Xiumei was stunned again. She had already prepared herself to be scolded, but she didn't expect the other party to be so polite.
"Well...my man didn't do it on purpose. You were drunk and insisted..." she explained stutteringly.
"Sister-in-law, stop talking."
Zhao Heng interrupted her.
"This is not Brother Wang's fault. It's me... the bastard."
He said the last two words with some difficulty, but with great sincerity.
When these words were spoken, not only was Xiumei stunned, but even Zhao Gan in the corner widened his eyes in astonishment and secretly looked at his father.
Dad...won't you apologize?
Xiumei held the bowl in her hand, not knowing what to say for a moment.
The Zhao Heng in front of me seemed different in some way.
Although he was still wearing the same ragged clothes and had a miserable face, his eyes no longer had the turbidity and hostility of the past. Instead, they had a kind of calmness that she couldn't understand.
"I... I cooked some rice porridge, and thought the children must be hungry, so I sent some over." Xiumei handed over the clay bowl in her hand.
The bowl was filled with clear rice soup with a few grains of rice floating around.
But in Zhao Heng's eyes, this bowl of porridge was as heavy as a thousand pounds.
"Thank you, sister-in-law."
Zhao Heng took it and his hand was warm.
Instead of drinking, he turned and walked to the corner.