“Dad’s Lies” — The Lies He Told Back Then Were All Love in Disguise.

A daughter cares for her ailing father, Shen Zhigang, who suffers from memory loss. Through her journey, she uncovers family secrets, the sacrifices her father made, and the deep bond between them. Amid personal struggles, a fortunate investment in the pandemic era changes their lives, proving the strength of love and resilience.

My Dad Went Missing.

Again.

This is the 12th time this month—beating last month's record. Based on what I know about my dad, I’m pretty sure he’ll be at one of three places: the factory, the lakeside, or the park’s chess tables.

I hung up the phone, feeling the pressure of a long list of things still left undone, yet I had no choice but to rush back home. Because my dad isn’t just any elderly man—he has Alzheimer’s, commonly known as dementia.

On the way, I called Mrs. Zhu, our neighbor, to double-check on my dad’s disappearance.

"I knocked for ages, but no one answered. Then I stood in your yard for a while, still didn’t see a single person."

"Oh, by the way, Xiaojia... I remember you bought that tracker for your dad, right?"

I smiled helplessly, glancing at the unmoving tracker on the table.

"It’s useless, Aunt Zhu. He threw it away at home."

Ever since I found out my dad was sick, I’ve put a lot of thought into ways to cope. I immediately got him the latest model of a tracking watch. I even made an ID card with his name and address, similar to a work badge, and hung it around his neck. I printed out a stack of little cards with my phone number and tucked them into all his pockets.

But my dad found them embarrassing, so he’d always secretly rip off the tracker and ID card. Sometimes, he’d even toss the little cards without a second thought. Despite my best efforts, they seemed to have little effect on his stubbornness.

"It really is a cruel disease," Mrs. Zhu said, her voice soft with sympathy. "The patient gradually loses their mind, their temperament changes. In the end, they might even lose control of their bladder and bowels, becoming completely dependent."

Every time I think about what the doctor said, my heart sinks a little more.

Three years ago, I had just turned thirty. I was in the prime of my career, one of the executives at a well-known travel app company in China. With bonuses and stock dividends, my salary easily surpassed that of any of my classmates. I had it all—from being a high-ranking executive in Beijing to owning a hostel in a third-tier city.

But all of that came to an abrupt end the day my dad’s illness began.

I Parked the Car and Finally Arrived Home.

Our home is in an old hutong, with low-rise buildings that have seen better days.

After taking a careful look around, I finally spotted the signs of my dad's "escape attempt." There, on the slightly warped window frame, was a piece of fabric—a lone strip of clothing fluttering in the wind.

"Heh, truly impressive!"

I slumped onto the balcony, feeling like a deflated balloon. If I had known it would come to this, I would have chosen a more conservative treatment plan.

My dad’s illness didn’t come out of nowhere. Three years ago, he was only 54 when he had a stroke. When faced with the choice of conservative treatment or surgery, I chose surgery.

Turns out, I was both right and wrong.

The surgery itself was a success, but my dad didn’t escape the aftermath. He developed Alzheimer’s. He was no longer able to think the way a man his age should. Instead, he turned into a constant source of trouble. And now, with the fear that he could slip away at any moment, I’d developed severe insomnia.

My phone's ringtone snapped me out of my thoughts, dragging me back to the chaos of real life.

It was my assistant, reminding me about a meeting. "Can you push back the meeting with our partner? I've got some things to take care of, and I might need to delay until tomorrow."

I hung up the phone, feeling completely overwhelmed. These past three years, even after moving back from Beijing, I had missed so many work deadlines because of my dad.

But this time, I had made up my mind.

I was going to find my father, then send him to the best care facility I could find and hire a top-tier caregiver.

"Aunt Zhu, thank you for your help."

Aunt Zhu, my dad's old colleague, had practically watched me grow up.

"No trouble at all, I just thought of it as a stroll."

Despite her shape having changed with age and her skin loosened, Aunt Zhu still had that loud, commanding voice and walked with surprising ease.

If only my dad’s mind was still clear... how much easier everything would be.

"Your dad did a lot of good things when he was younger. This is just my way of giving back a little."

In my memories, my father was nothing like the "hero" Aunt Zhu described.

He had accomplished nothing, was always idle, and bragging was the cornerstone of his life.

I just smiled and let it go, thinking she was just being polite.

"Well, I'm going to check the factory now."

From the past experiences of my dad getting lost, I knew exactly where to look: the factory where he worked, the lakeside where he fished, and the park where he played chess. It was almost certain he’d be at one of those places.

"I don’t have anything else to do, so I’ll come with you," Aunt Zhu offered enthusiastically.

I nodded, feeling completely frazzled. Having her along to chat with on the way might help take my mind off things.

I drove us to the factory.

Because of the restructuring, the factory had long been abandoned.

But to my dad, it might still look like the place he went to work every day.

"You used to play here a lot as a kid, remember?" Aunt Zhu started chatting, trying to lighten the mood.

"I vaguely remember," I replied, lying. The truth is, I remembered everything.

I remembered my dad being a factory worker, and he stayed that way until I finished high school.

Back then, the factory wasn’t like the big corporations we see now—no "996" work culture or rigid class structure. If you worked hard, there were still plenty of opportunities for advancement.

But my dad, the one I’d thought of as "content with the status quo," never once showed any ambition.

From elementary school to high school, I never once made it into the top three of my class, just like my dad’s steady but modest paycheck.

"Xiaojia’s doing well in school; her dad’s a factory worker, mine’s the factory manager. Even if I fail every subject, I’ll still find a job."

That was what my "best classmate" said behind my back.

As a teenager, I was incredibly sensitive. I went home that day and questioned my dad about why he didn’t push himself harder.

He just smiled, serving me dinner as if it were no big deal.

"Who cares if you’re not in the top three? As long as you’re full, who cares? Being a factory manager is hard work; do you think he has time to sit down and eat with his daughter?"

"I’d rather eat alone."

My contempt was genuine, but my father just laughed it off, wearing that same carefree expression.

He still wore his dirty work clothes every day and waited at the school gate for me.

From far away, I would start avoiding him, slipping out through a side entrance.

Unaware, my father would ask everyone, from fellow students to parents, if they’d seen me.

"Xu Chunhong, have you seen our Xiaojia?"

"Shen Xiaobing, is Xiaojia still staying behind for duty?"

He’d ask anyone who was around, panicking.

Meanwhile, I had already "found another way" to sneak home.

Until today, after reaching the peak of my career and then having to sell my shares to take care of my dad, I’d scaled back everything and started from scratch again.

Now, I could finally admit it—I had always looked down on my dad.

He had become my life’s best example of what not to do.

As I was about to head toward the workshop, Aunt Zhu suddenly grabbed my arm.

"Wrong way, wrong way! The office is this way."

I froze, thinking, Is Aunt Zhu confused too?

"Didn't we come to look for the workshop? Why are we going to the office?"

I had already assumed we were going to the old workshop, since it was where I had previously found my dad when he wandered off. I figured he’d probably be there, reminiscing about the good old days.

"What do you mean, the workshop? Old Shen used to sit in the office, you know?" Aunt Zhu widened her eyes in surprise and fell into thought.

"I remember every time I went to submit materials, I’d get to sneak in for a cup of tea."

Her laughter was full of nostalgia, a sweet longing for the past.

But I couldn’t help but feel confused.

This was the first time I started doubting my own memories.

"My dad? He used to be quite the figure. When he first came to the factory, there were so many people eyeing him. He was the first one with a good education…" Aunt Zhu continued, sighing in admiration. "He was so valuable."

A good education?

What was she talking about?

Aunt Zhu's version of my dad seemed worlds apart from the "failure" I remembered.

I walked alongside her, still trying to make sense of it all.

As we approached, a gruff male voice called from behind us, "Hey, who’s there? No one’s allowed to wander into the factory."

Both Aunt Zhu and I turned to see a man walking toward us.

"Secretary Zheng! Long time no see!" Aunt Zhu quickly recognized him and moved toward the man, her steps quickening.

The elderly man adjusted his glasses and approached us.

"Is this Zhu Suying from the blast furnace department? Wow, didn’t expect to see you here."

Old colleagues greeted each other warmly, reminiscing with smiles.

"And this must be your daughter," he said, studying me with curiosity.

Aunt Zhu was quick to explain, "No, no, this is Shen Zhigang’s daughter. She used to be a big leader in Beijing. You know, after her dad got sick, she came back to take care of him."

"Shen Zhigang? Wait, Director Shen?"

I froze, my confusion deepening. Now, he was being called Director?

If Aunt Zhu had misremembered, I could accept that. But for someone else to suddenly start talking about my dad like this—was everyone rewriting history now?

"Do you remember my dad?" I asked, unable to hold back.

Secretary Zheng, with his glasses and scholarly demeanor, seemed like the epitome of a 90s-era bureaucrat.

"Your father was quite well-known back in the day. Whether it was production or reform, he was a pro."

He continued, reminiscing with a touch of regret, "I remember when he was the department head in the office, always working late into the night. Of the few days off he had each month, the old factory manager even wanted him to stay and lead study sessions."

He sighed. "If it weren’t for your dad insisting on working in the workshop, who knows who would've been promoted when the factory manager position changed hands."

I was struck by a wave of disbelief.

For a man, his career is often the core of his identity—his way of measuring his value in society.

To throw away a bright future and head into the workshop?

The only explanation could be that—his mind had been failing him for much longer than I realized.

"Why did he want to leave the office for the workshop?" I asked, still unable to understand.

"Well, in the office, you’re on a regular schedule, but you're also stuck there every night. Only two days off a month. But in the workshop, it's different—you work four days and then get three days off at home."

He looked at me, a hint of sadness and tenderness in his eyes.

"Your dad said he couldn’t rest, even when he was sleeping at work. He didn’t want to miss out on spending time with you. He said it was worth giving up his future so you could have a better life. And look at you now... you’ve grown up so well."

His words had the weight of the sacrifices made by a generation.

"By the way," Aunt Zhu interrupted, "you said Old Shen’s sick? What happened?"

As she started to explain my dad’s condition, I could feel my anxiety creeping up again.

I had to find my dad—and get some answers.

After bidding farewell to the enthusiastic Secretary Zheng, Aunt Zhu and I headed to the next spot.

I handed her a cold drink, and my guilt only grew heavier.

"Thanks again, Aunt Zhu. You’ve really been a huge help."

"No trouble at all. With this heat, where else could your dad have gone?" she replied, waving off my thanks.

I quickly formed a plan in my mind. If he wasn’t at the factory, then he had to be by the lake.

"There’s a fishing lake ahead. Let’s check there," I suggested.

"Old Shen still likes to fish?" Aunt Zhu asked, clearly confused. This was the second time today we were at odds over something.

But it made sense. After all, Aunt Zhu and my dad were neighbors and old colleagues—they weren't together 24/7, so it was understandable if she didn’t know everything about his personal likes and habits.

"He does like it. He used to go all the time," I explained.

Aunt Zhu wasn’t convinced, and began recalling the past to check her memory.

"No way. Your dad doesn't even eat fish. How could he sit out all day fishing? I remember once during a big factory celebration, they set up three big pots of fish stew..."

She paused, the memory lingering in her mind. "The smell was so tempting, but your dad didn’t touch a single bite."

Aunt Zhu's confidence in her recollection was unshakable. She spoke with the kind of certainty that made it seem like the event had just happened yesterday.

Her words triggered a few fragments of my own memories. I loved eating fish—any kind, whether it was steamed, braised, or even raw. I could devour the sushi that most people found hard to swallow.

"Eat more fish, it'll help your brain. My girl’s going to be the smartest," my dad would say, always carefully removing the bones from the fish to leave only the tender meat for me.

But, curiously, he hardly ever seemed to eat fish himself. At least, not in front of me.

"Well, let’s go see. It’s not far from home, maybe he just wandered over," I said, trying to reassure her.

Aunt Zhu gave me a half-hearted nod, still a little doubtful but willing to go along. "Alright, let’s find your dad first."

The summer heat had settled in, but that didn’t stop the fishermen from coming out in droves.

I heard the familiar voice of Uncle Li from a distance, talking loudly as always.

"I’m telling you, fishing is a test of patience. If you can stick it out here, you’re one tough one…"

"Old Li, still boasting about fishing, huh?" Aunt Zhu teased him, laughing as she greeted him.

"You're just scaring the fish away with that mouth of yours!" Uncle Li shot back, his voice light-hearted but slightly annoyed.

But as we approached, I noticed something strange—besides Uncle Li, the other fishermen seemed to have some kind of prejudice toward my dad.

"Old Shen’s wandered off again. Me and Xiao Jia are looking for him," Aunt Zhu casually mentioned.

"Old Shen can’t be here. We haven’t even started casting the lines yet," a man with thinning hair said, glancing at us.

A few other men snickered.

"Old Jiang, don’t go telling stories in front of the kid," Uncle Li snapped at the man.

The old man didn’t back down. "What? I’m just saying the truth. Back in the day, wasn’t Old Shen all about avoiding real work?"

He turned to me, adding, "I remember once, I tossed a few small fish in a bucket, and he was the first one to rush over to pick them up."

I felt an awkward pang at his words. It seemed my dad’s pastime of "fishing" wasn’t quite as noble as I had imagined.

"Ha, he was just taking the leftovers," the man continued, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing me.

I hated to admit it, but I kind of understood what the old man meant. My dad, after all, had never been the type to make a name for himself. He always seemed content to live in the shadow of others’ successes.

"That’s nonsense! Old Shen never took any fish home! He always let them go," Uncle Li interjected, his face now flushed with indignation.

"Every time he caught a fish, he’d carefully keep it in a bucket with fresh water, and then he’d walk all the way to the pond three miles away to release them," Uncle Li continued, his voice rising with passion.

I could tell this was something he truly believed, and I didn’t doubt him for a second. Despite all the flaws in my dad, there had always been a certain kindness in him that few people had ever noticed.

Uncle Li stood up, his words now more forceful than ever. "Don’t misjudge him just because he’s ill. He might not have been perfect, but he had a good heart."

I was taken aback by Uncle Li’s sudden outburst. It was as though he was defending my dad not just for his past, but for who he was at his core.

"Li Shu, it’s too hot. You should sit down," I quickly intervened, worried that he might get too worked up.

I gently guided him toward the shade, relieved that his rant seemed to have calmed a bit. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think: maybe, just maybe, my dad had more layers to him than I had ever realized.

"Li Shu, have something cold to drink, and cool down a bit."

I opened a bottle of soda and handed it to the old man.

Sweat beaded on his aging forehead, and the man I once knew as a strong, middle-aged figure had clearly aged over the years.

"They can say what they want when we're not around, but to say it right in front of you? That's just wrong. Well, your dad's a bit muddled now, so I don’t even bother with them anymore," Li Shu said, his eyes fogged over as he seemed to drift into memories of the past.

"Your dad was always a kind soul. Not just to people, but even to the little fish and shrimp, he had a big heart."

He paused, turning to me with a kind, steady gaze. "You shouldn’t listen to those people. Your dad never took advantage of anyone."

Though his face glistened with sweat, his eyes burned with a fierce, protective determination. He wouldn't stand for anyone speaking ill of my father.

Aunt Zhu, who couldn’t hold back any longer, voiced the question that had been bothering her.

"But, Li Shu, did Old Shen really like fishing? I always thought he didn’t even eat fish."

Li Shu didn’t answer directly at first. His answer came in pieces, as though he was carefully choosing his words.

"He didn’t eat fish... but someone in the family did, didn’t they?" Li Shu replied, and I immediately understood.

"At first, I loved fishing, and your dad just watched me a few times, asked a few questions. Fishing doesn’t take much skill—it’s just a way to pass the time," he continued.

"Back in those days, we didn’t have fancy gear or online stores for all those lures and floats. It didn’t cost much, just some old hooks and a little patience."

He suddenly seemed embarrassed. "You know your Aunt, she's strict. I was afraid of her, so I’d sneak out to get some peace and quiet."

After so many years, Li Shu and Aunt Zhu had a marriage full of ups and downs, but it was still a kind of happiness in its own way.

"Your dad was a man of steady resolve. In this world full of temptations, he stuck to his guns. He’d rather spend a whole day fishing than chase after those distractions."

Li Shu gave a hearty thumbs-up, his respect for my father clear in the way he spoke.

I could hear the subtext in his words. My dad, for all his flaws, had never strayed. There had been no "mistresses" or "side stories" about him—nothing that would make him a subject of gossip or scandal.

Sure, others had made fun of my dad for being a worker, and some had hinted at the absence of my mom, but there had never been any rumors about my dad's personal life. Despite the mystery of my mother's whereabouts, my father had remained remarkably "single" throughout my childhood.

I remembered all the times people had tried to introduce my dad to someone, but nothing ever came of it.

"He gave up his chances for you. Even though he could’ve been promoted, he chose to stay behind," Li Shu said, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"I remember when a provincial official came to the factory, they were impressed by your dad and wanted to transfer him. But he only worked for a month before he came back because you got sick."

I remembered that period of my life vaguely. It was the summer before I started junior high, when my dad enrolled me in a boarding school with food and accommodation. The food there was terrible, and I couldn’t stand it, so I went on a hunger strike.

Li Shu continued, but this time his words struck deep into my heart.

"Too bad. You recovered, but he didn’t want to stay there, and that cost him. He pissed off a lot of people, and after that, no matter how well he did, he never got promoted."

I could feel my heart sink as Li Shu’s words painted a picture of the harsh reality of my father's career. For all his sacrifice and hard work, my dad had never gotten the recognition he deserved.

As the conversation shifted, I realized how much I’d taken for granted, how little I truly understood about my father’s life and choices. And then, without warning, the question that had haunted me for years slipped out.

"Li Shu, where did my mom go?"

The question hung in the air, and immediately, I saw Li Shu tense up. His brow furrowed as he looked away.

He didn’t speak right away, and the silence only made the anxiety rise in me.

"Li Shu, you have to know. What happened? Why did they both choose to keep this secret?" I pressed, my voice trembling with the weight of the question.

There was something in Li Shu’s silence—something heavy, something unspoken—that made me feel like the truth was close but still out of reach.

The more I tried to push for an answer, the more his hesitation grew. What was the secret they had been hiding all these years? What had happened to my mother, and why did it still hurt so much to speak about it?

"Hey, Xiaojia, what do you want me to say..."

Li Shu finally gave in and refused to say anything more. It was as though he was avoiding my gaze, hurriedly packing up his things and retreating home.

The heat that had been lingering in the air just moments ago suddenly turned into a thick, looming gray sky. The wind began to shift, and I could feel the storm approaching.

I knew I had to find my father, but I also couldn’t drag Aunt Zhu out into the rain.

"Zhu Yi, I’m going to grab the car. Wait for me here," I said, my voice strained with impatience.

As I walked toward the car, my mind was racing. The anxiety of not knowing where my dad was, combined with the need to uncover all those long-hidden truths about him, weighed heavily on my heart.

It seemed like with his dementia, many things would remain untold, buried in the past forever. I couldn't shake the thought that the more I tried to piece together his life, the more everything started to feel like an unsolvable puzzle.

And then there were the stories—my dad's exaggerated tales that were always meant to impress, to show off, but never quite held up under scrutiny. He used to tell me how my mom had chased him down the street before they got together. Another time, he claimed that he’d saved someone’s life after leaving the army, with the story spreading across villages. And let’s not forget the time he bought a random stock, only for it to explode in value and make him a small fortune.

I always rolled my eyes at these ridiculous stories, knowing they were just that—stories. His fabrications, his grandiose claims, were his way of filling the gaps of a life that perhaps didn’t feel as exciting as he wished it had been.

But today, talking to Aunt Zhu and Li Shu, I had glimpses of a different version of my father. Not the clownish braggart who exaggerated everything, but a man who—despite his flaws—had some depth to him.

He had never been a great success in terms of career or money, but hearing about his gentle nature, his unwillingness to take advantage of anyone, his dedication to caring for me despite the sacrifices... It all painted a more complete picture of who he was.

And that made me feel a little less bitter, a little more forgiving. Maybe, just maybe, the man I saw as a constant disappointment wasn't as simple as I'd always thought. Maybe his heart had been in the right place, even if his methods had been questionable.

I knew now that I had to find him—both to bring him back and to understand him. The quest to reconnect wasn’t just about managing his illness; it was about getting to know the father I had misunderstood for so long.

"If I can't find him at the chess stand up ahead, I might have to go to the police station."

The car was getting closer and closer to the small chess stand, but I still couldn't spot any trace of my father.

Where could this old man have gone?

After parking the car, I stubbornly walked up to the small stand.

"Ah, isn't this Xiaojia?"

"Your dad didn’t come today. If he had, your Uncle Zhang and I would’ve sent him home."

"Xiaojia, you’re drenched in sweat. You've been searching all day, haven’t you?"

The people in front of me were all my father's old colleagues and neighbors. Apart from my father, they were the ones who had watched me grow up.

Ever since Dad's dementia started, my frequent searches had become routine, and these elderly folks were all well aware of the situation.

"Here, have a drink."

One of the kind-hearted elderly men handed me a bottle of water, and at that moment, my calm facade finally cracked.

"I've been searching with Aunt Zhu for a whole day. We haven’t seen a single person. It’s so hot, and it’s about to rain. Where in the world could he have gone?!"

"Your dad's a reliable man. He’s probably already back home," they all chimed in, trying to console me.

"Reliable? He’s just a big talker. All he does is cause trouble for me. Now I can’t even find him," I snapped, my frustration boiling over.

Seeing my irritation, Aunt Zhu couldn’t stay quiet. "Old Shen did his best to be both a father and a mother for you. Xiaojia, you can’t say things like that about your dad!"

Even those with sick family members spoke up in his defense.

"Actually, these past years, it’s been tough on Xiaojia too. Taking care of an elderly person like him isn't easy."

Faced with their reproach, I felt a bit embarrassed. My face flushed with discomfort.

"Aunt Zhu, I’m not mad at my dad, but he really isn’t reliable," I protested.

I couldn’t hold back any longer and laid all the contradictions he’d ever told me right in front of everyone.

"Just think about it—he always told me how he saved someone from drowning when he was in the army. But he can’t even swim! How could he have saved anyone?"

"Also, he used to boast about buying some original stocks and making a fortune. But later I found out, he doesn’t even know how to read basic stock charts. How could he have been investing in stocks?"

"And the most important thing..."

I looked around at the elderly neighbors and raised the question that had been troubling me for years.

"About my mom—he still can’t explain what happened. He’s like this as a father, and you expect me to think he’s reliable?"

My doubts were met with silence, and a few of them visibly shifted uncomfortably.

"Xiaojia, your dad really was in the army," a voice finally spoke up.

I turned toward the sound and saw a face I knew all too well.

"Uncle Zhao."

If it were anyone else, I would have doubted them, but if it was Uncle Zhao...

To be honest, he had once been my ideal father figure.

Uncle Zhao was a veteran who had fought in the Vietnam War. He was the real deal—a strong and honorable man.

He was good to his wife, and even though they didn’t have children, their love never wavered.

He was always striving to improve himself. After leaving the army, he continued to shine in his career and had become a high-ranking official before retiring.

What was even more remarkable was his humility—he was the kind of man who never acted out of line, always dependable.

In every way, he was the opposite of my "Old Shen." They were worlds apart.

"As for what you want to know about your mother, I’ll tell you."

Everyone was taken aback, and I too was surprised.

"Really? I really want to know," I said, almost in disbelief.

Now, he was offering to answer my question. I couldn’t believe my luck.

"Your grandfather passed away in your dad’s second year of high school, and your dad was forced to drop out and join the army."

Uncle Zhao settled into the passenger seat of my car, facing me as he began to tell me these long-forgotten stories.

"He was assigned to the artillery unit, under my old subordinate."

"At first, he didn’t accept the military life. He felt it was too unfair that he couldn't go to university, and he even considered running away."

"Later, my old subordinate—your dad's squad leader—found out about it and took the initiative to comfort him. He even told your dad that he could work hard and eventually apply for military school."

"Your dad's a proud guy, and in the end, he did well in the army. But then, something happened."

Uncle Zhao pulled out a cigarette, glancing at me for permission.

"Xiaojia, can I smoke?"

I nodded and pressed the button to lower the window.

"What happened after that?"

"His old squad leader was injured in an explosion during a training exercise while trying to protect your dad. Unfortunately, he didn’t survive."

"After that, your dad became really shaken up and left the army not long afterward."

"But then something unexpected happened. The squad leader’s sister came to your dad with the compensation money. She said that in her brother’s letters, he had expressed wanting to support your dad so that he could continue his studies."

So my father really had been in the army.

"Heh, but the fun part is that the squad leader’s sister chased after your dad for several streets, and then she slipped into a drain."

"Your dad got so scared that he forgot he couldn’t swim and jumped in after her."

"Luckily, a winter swimming team happened to be training nearby, or else, well… you wouldn’t be here today."

What?

Could the squad leader’s sister really have been my mom?

Uncle Zhao’s light-hearted words helped me piece together the fateful encounter that changed the course of my life.

"Your dad and your mom got together just like that. He finished his studies and then married her."

"We all said he was lucky, but we didn’t realize your mom wasn’t so lucky."

Finally, I was about to learn the truth about my real mother.

I stared at Uncle Zhao’s lips, unwilling to miss a single word he said.

"She passed away while giving birth to you. Your dad didn’t want anyone to talk about it, so all these years, none of us have said a word."

In that moment, all the pieces of the puzzle clicked together, and my father’s absurd behaviors suddenly seemed to make sense.

"Was my mom’s name Sun Aixiang?"

"Yes, your mother’s name was Sun Aixiang. And your maternal uncle is Sun Aijia."

My name, my life—was it all somehow connected to the two most important people in my father’s world?

"Xiaojia, you’re the most important person to your dad."

As a child, my father always used to tell me that.

"As for the whole issue with his boasting, that’s just the stubbornness of an ordinary father."

Uncle Zhao chuckled bitterly, revealing the lovable yet fragile side of my father.

"Your dad just wanted to give you some face. You know how men are—when they start bragging, they can't stop. I heard that when you were little, you loved listening to him talk about the story of saving someone from drowning."

And just like that, the mystery that had haunted me for 30 years was finally revealed on this sweltering afternoon.

I didn’t know what to say anymore.

"Hey, what? You guys found Old Shen?"

A phone call from Aunt Zhu in the backseat snapped me out of my thoughts, and I quickly turned around.

"Hurry, Xiaojia, go to the First Elementary School! The gatekeeper says your dad’s at the entrance!"

The car hadn’t even come to a stop before I spotted my father’s familiar silhouette.

He still had that same habit of looking out for me, but his posture wasn’t as straight as it used to be when he was younger.

By the time I parked the car, Aunt Zhu and Uncle Zhao had already rushed out.

When I finally saw my father, after searching for him the entire afternoon, I found myself unable to move any faster.

How long had it been since I really looked at him?

"Old Shen, we’ve been looking for you all afternoon. What are you doing here?"

"Where did this goldfish come from? Didn’t you just go to the pet market again?"

Aunt Zhu squinted at the goldfish my father was holding, her brows furrowing in confusion.

"Dad."

At last, I walked up to him.

My father turned around, giving me a confused look.

After a long pause, he patted his head as though remembering something.

"Teacher Cheng, why hasn't Shen Jia come out yet? I’ve been waiting here for half a day."

He waved the goldfish in front of me.

"I bought a fish. I’m going to cook it for her."

Seeing my father’s carefree smile, tears welled up in my eyes once more.

My father turned to Aunt Zhu, still asking the same question that seemed to matter the most to him.

"Have you seen our Xiaojia?"

Aunt Zhu couldn’t hold it in anymore and lowered her head.

"Dad, let’s go home."

As I drew closer, a terrible odor hit me.

My father… he must have had an accident.

How had he endured this and still been out looking for me in this heat?

"Hey, who are you? Don’t pull at me, Xiaojia will see us!"

My father struggled, trying to avoid my touch.

"Okay, okay, Old Shen, I’ll take you to Xiaojia. I know where she is."

With tears in my eyes, I started to comfort him, mimicking how he used to distract me when I was a child.

At first, he didn’t quite believe me.

"Old Shen, if you don’t go home now, your fish will die, and then it won’t be good to eat."

Finally, my father nodded and agreed to follow me.

Somehow, Aunt Zhu had already left. She had quietly given us the time we needed—time alone, father and daughter.

"Ah Xiang, how many years has it been since you left?"

As we walked, my father seemed to lose his bearings again.

"My memory’s not good lately. I forgot a bit, you know?"

He… he mistook me for my mother.

"About your difficult childbirth… I still don’t know how to tell Xiaojia. Maybe when she’s a mother herself, she’ll understand."

"You think I’m thinking too far ahead? She hasn’t even graduated elementary school yet."

My father looked at me and chuckled, a bit bashfully.

He tilted his head back and swayed his hips as he walked, his steps awkward.

But his face beamed with an incredible pride.

"After a few more decades, when Xiaojia finds someone reliable, I’ll be able to go with you. Don’t worry, boss, save me a spot, I’ll join you soon."

He saluted me with the empty hand.

My face was soaked—sweat and tears had long blurred together.

Whether it was Aunt Zhu, Uncle Zhao, or Uncle Li, or even Uncle Zhao—they all told me something I’d neglected for so many years.

My father had led a hard, chaotic life, but he gave me the best he had.

That night, we ate the fish.

However, this time, it was me who cooked it.

Late into the night, the delayed storm finally arrived.

The thunder scared my father, and he cried out like a child.

I held him tightly, using the words he had once used to comfort me to soothe him now.

"Don’t be afraid, it’s only after the rain that you can see the rainbow."

"The rainbow?"

My father was a little confused, but I smiled gently and explained.

"It’s the rainbow Xiaojia loves the most."

Honestly, I don’t know if my father’s condition will improve.

But after this storm, I’ll make sure to stay by his side, waiting for the rainbow to appear again.

Six months later, a pandemic hit, ruthlessly impacting many industries.

The company I had worked for suffered severe losses, and many executives in the same position as mine were laid off one by one.

But fate, it seems, never forsakes those with a kind heart. Even destiny itself seemed to have opened a backdoor for us.

Because I had returned to my hometown to care for my father, I used the funds from the stocks I had sold years ago to invest in several pharmaceutical companies.

One of them was the first to develop a COVID-19 vaccine, and its stock price soared. I made a substantial profit.

"Axiang, you seem to have grown a bit?"

My father's condition hadn't improved, but fortunately, it hadn't worsened either.

He still sometimes tried to slip away, and often mistook me for someone else.

"Yeah, because you've been supporting me, I think I can still grow a bit more."

As I watched the stock prices rise steadily on the screen, I couldn't help but smile.

It turned out, my guardian angel had always been by my side.

His name was Shen Zhigang. He was my father.