Chapter 2

"Waa! Waa!"

The familiar cry of an infant felt like a blunt knife scraping against my nerves.

I coldly looked towards the bundle in the corner.

In my previous life, I had picked up this ungrateful child because I felt sorry for her.

To buy her formula, I walked 10 miles to the city.

Because she wanted pizza, I worked through a three-day fever with my body shaking from chills.

When she had diarrhea, I carried her through flood waters to the hospital. I slipped and broke my right leg, leaving me with a lifelong limp, but I had no regrets.

I raised her with countless drops of blood and sweat.

In the end, she pushed me into hell with her own hands.

I stared at the bundle in the corner of the alley, my nails digging deep into my palms, almost drawing blood.

Resisting the urge to strangle the little ingrate, I quickly ran back home with my backpack.

I took a bite of the hard bread. Even though it scratched my throat, it tasted sweeter than honey.

In this life, I hadn't yet been hit by Gwen with a beer bottle, losing three teeth.

I wouldn't speak with a lisp or spill food while eating porridge.

My elbow hadn't been shattered, causing my hand to shake uncontrollably when holding things.

My right leg was fine too.

I wouldn't have to crawl like a dog, dragging a crippled leg to pick up fallen bread from the ground.

"Creak!"

The door to the west room opened, and William came out rubbing his eyes.

Seeing me eating, his eyes immediately widened.

His voice rose, "Brother! How come you've come back empty-handed!"

I slowly and deliberately spread a generous amount of lard on the bread.

Life in the countryside was hard.

I never dared to eat such good things as lard, saving it all for William and our father, George.

All because of our grandfather's instructions.

He said that my father and brother had always been weak, and as the eldest grandson, I should take care of them more.

So I worked like a tireless ox.

In the countryside, I rushed to do all the dirty and tiring work for George and William.

Under the scorching sun, I went to dry grain and weed for William.

At night, I forced my aching back to carry manure for George.

My hands were always covered in blisters.

I was grateful if I could sleep four or five hours a day.

I was always afraid they might catch a cold or get sick from the wind and rain.

But in return, I was schemed against for a lifetime.

I tilted my head back and took a big bite of the lard-covered bread.

The rich oily fragrance slid down my dry throat.

"I just went out to weed, of course I came back empty-handed," I said, glancing at him inconspicuously and sneering. "What, did you expect me to bring back something dirty and unsavory? I can't do that kind of profiteering!"

William frowned angrily, rushed out, pulling back the curtain.

There was a "clang" from the yard.

William had kicked over the vegetable washing basin, shouting for dad.