Chapter 67 – The Rebellious Adopted Son (Part 2)

Xie Ting had never heard this man mention his own father before, let alone any other relatives. For as long as he could remember, he had always believed that this man was his biological father.

After learning the truth later on, he never got close to him again, much less shared any heartfelt thoughts. The more he had liked him before, the more he resisted afterward.

But the reality was, if this man didn’t tell him, no one else would. So for now, Xie Ting was still relatively well-behaved.

He didn’t throw a tantrum, didn’t curse, and didn’t talk back—he just listened quietly.

“The path we’re walking now is much easier than the one your grandfather took back then. At least you’re wearing a pair of brand-name sneakers. When your grandfather came through here, sometimes he didn’t even have straw sandals to wear.”

“When the straw sandals wore out, he walked barefoot through the snow. If his feet didn’t freeze off, he kept walking.”

These were stories Xie Ting’s father had once told the client—stories passed down to him by his own father when he was young, so that he’d remember to grow into someone useful to society.

Later, when he got to know the client, he told those same stories again.

At this point, Xie Ting lowered his head and glanced at his name-brand sneakers, inexplicably feeling like they were burning his feet.

“Cold? Put on your jacket.”

It was the jacket Xie Hui had bought earlier. When he handed it to Xie Ting, the boy didn’t scowl or refuse. After putting it on, he followed behind Xie Hui, for once not walking with that usual lazy swagger.

Before coming here, Xie Hui had asked around and learned about the current conditions in the area, so he didn’t hire a guide.

His backpack was filled with radishes and potatoes he had asked the lady at the hotel next door to boil for him in hot water that morning.

Back then, the environment was harsh and there was no other choice. Now, Xie Hui wanted the boy to experience what it felt like—but he didn’t actually want Xie Ting to end up like his grandfather, gnawing on bark and eating grass.

This place had now become a tourist site, and couldn’t even compare to one percent of the hardship his grandfather had faced.

Xie Hui didn’t intend to make Xie Ting risk his life climbing snow-covered mountains—he just wanted him to see the path his grandfather had once taken.

Even though it was nowhere near as tough, Xie Ting was still so exhausted halfway up that his legs went weak. He leaned against a tree, his stomach growling in protest.

“There’s a restaurant over there. Let’s grab something to eat first. What time do you think it is? You don’t eat lunch or what?”

Hearing that he was hungry, Xie Hui finally stopped walking, took out the previously boiled potato and radish from his backpack, and handed one of each to Xie Ting.

Xie Ting took them on reflex. After a quick glance, he looked up at the man with confusion.

“What’s this for?”

“This is lunch for the both of us. Once we’re done eating, we’ll keep climbing.”

Xie Hui gave him a calm glance and took a bite of the boiled radish himself.

“You’re seriously making me eat this? Just boiled like this? You trying to get me carried down on a stretcher?”

Xie Ting’s eyes widened in shock, gripping the radish and feeling the moisture squish out—his frustration spiked, and he nearly hurled it away.

Sensing his thoughts, Xie Hui—now down to the last bite of his radish—grinned and said:

“If you don’t eat that, you’ll climb hungry. And no, there’s no stretcher to carry you down. If you really can’t walk, wrap your head in your jacket and see if you can roll down.”

Xie Ting looked down again at the simply boiled radish and potato. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to take a bite.

The resistance in his heart, paired with how terrible the food tasted, made him gag after just one bite. Furious, he wiped the sweat from his forehead and shot Xie Hui a glare.

Xie Hui took a bite of his potato and, looking toward the snowy mountain ahead, said:

“Boiled potatoes and radishes taste that bad?”

Xie Ting rolled his eyes hard, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be giving the cold shoulder to this man. He snapped back:

“Do you really need to ask? You just boiled them in water—how could they taste good?”

“These are fresh. You’d better eat these first. Of course, I also brought some dry rice and cornmeal. Which one do you want?”

Hearing those options, Xie Ting took another bite of the radish.

Inwardly, he began to suspect that this man was dead set on tormenting him, hoping he’d give in and agree to study seriously once they got back.

If that was the plan, then Xie Hui had definitely miscalculated—he had no intention of doing anything just because the man arranged it.

“Tastes bad, huh? But for your grandfather back then, this was a rare delicacy. They used to eat tree leaves and grass roots. They’d strip bark off trees with knives and chew it down.”

At those words, Xie Ting suddenly didn’t think the food tasted so bad anymore. He took a big bite and chewed it hard before swallowing.

“The most unbelievable part is—they even ate leather belts. Like that cowhide belt you gave me for my tenth birthday. Cowhide, when boiled, becomes food. It could fill a stomach.”

Listening to this, Xie Ting finished both his boiled radish and potato. They were bland and hard to swallow, but he still ate them clean.

The higher they climbed, the colder it got. Since Xie Ting was walking slower, by the time they reached the summit, it was already late. Even with a thick coat, the cold wind still cut through him, chilling him to the bone no matter how fast he walked.

“Cold? Your grandfather didn’t even have a coat like yours back then.”

Xie Hui didn’t know whether this would truly get the boy to change his mind and decide to take his studies seriously.

If, once they got back, Xie Ting still didn’t want to study properly—then so be it. Xie Hui would break his promise.

After all… who ever promised him anything in the first place?

Blasted by the cold wind, Xie Ting stood hunched over, trying to conserve as much body heat as he could.

But whenever he looked up, he saw Xie Hui not far ahead—standing tall and straight, like he’d been carved from a mold.

At this moment, Xie Ting suddenly understood a sentence he had once come across by chance—some habits become etched into your very bones, following you for a lifetime.

Just like this man—his quilts were always folded into perfect squares, the house was perpetually spotless, and his clothes were always neatly arranged.

And his posture… always straight and proper.

“I actually planned to take you to see the legendary grasslands too. Your grandfather once said that while crossing the snow mountains was tough, it was the grasslands that truly haunted him. The uncertainty of where a swamp might appear, or whether the person beside you would still be alive in the next second.”

“Feet worn raw by walking would get infected when stepping into swampy mud, and you’d still have to keep walking with those wounds soaking in the muck. The pain seeped into the very cracks of your bones.”

“But that area is too dangerous now, so it’s off-limits. I could only bring you here instead.”

Climbing the mountain in person had exhausted Xie Ting so much that even just standing felt like a struggle—his body was weak and limp, and he felt like he might collapse at any moment.

He had studied history and knew that during that time, his grandfather had walked a long, grueling path—unable to stop, braving snowstorms in thin clothing with barely anything to eat, pushing forward solely by willpower.

It was a unique feeling—Xie Ting trembled slightly, overwhelmed by a strange surge of awe and pride rising from deep within.

“Xie Ting, do you know how many people gave their lives so you could live a peaceful life now?”

Xie Hui’s question struck straight to the soul, leaving Xie Ting frozen for a long time, desperately trying to recall what he had learned from his textbooks.

On this journey, just how many had died? The casualties listed in the books were just numbers.

But now, faced with this man’s question, Xie Ting’s thoughts began to spiral.

He remembered a teacher once saying that many of those who sacrificed their lives were still young—they had parents and loved ones, and their deaths plunged entire families into grief.

The few cold numbers in textbooks barely hinted at the many lives that had barely begun before they were abruptly ended.

“I know you resent me—you think it’s my fault you lost your father and your home.”

“But Xie Ting, I hope you understand… you shouldn’t give up on yourself just because you resent me.”

Xie Hui walked over and gently patted his shoulder—not hard, but even that light touch caused Xie Ting’s legs to give out. He collapsed to the ground and didn’t bother to get back up.

His heart was overwhelmed with tangled emotions—so much so that he forgot to even put on the cold, distant expression he usually wore with this man.

“Xie Ting, your father once told me during a gathering before he died… that his son would definitely grow up to be better than him.”

“Because you—you were the precious treasure your mother gave her life to bring into this world.”

All those earlier words had already pushed Xie Ting’s emotions to the breaking point, and now hearing this man mention a father he had no memory of—it was the final straw. Tears burst from his eyes uncontrollably.

He was already in middle school, but now he was crying like a helpless child, completely losing his composure.

“Your father once got drunk while on leave and talked about your mother again.”

This sentence made the boy, who had been sobbing into Xie Hui’s arm, suddenly raise his head and stare at him.

“He said the last thing your mother ever said to him… was that she hoped he’d take good care of you and raise you well.”

It was freezing at the mountaintop. The wind stung his tear-soaked cheeks, but Xie Ting almost seemed to welcome the pain, as if punishing himself.

He missed his parents—missed them so desperately it drove him nearly insane. That longing twisted into resentment—wondering whether they had abandoned him because they didn’t love him.

What he had always wanted to ask most was—did they love him at all? If not, why bring him into this world?

Now, finally hearing the answer from the mouth of the man he hated most, Xie Ting cried so hard it tore at his chest and left his throat hoarse.

The wind was howling. In the distance, a staff member came over and shouted, urging them to leave quickly—it was too late to linger, and staying would be dangerous. Seeing they hadn’t moved, the staffer grew agitated and shouted through a loudspeaker.

The howling wind and the old man’s amplified voice echoed across the mountain. Xie Ting struggled to his feet, looked toward the man standing not far away, and said in a raspy voice:

“I suddenly don’t hate you anymore…”

Then he forced a smile—one that looked worse than crying—baring his teeth in a wide grin.

“Dad.”