As soon as the autumn wind arose, after I finished my evening self-study class, the night wind already had a hint of coolness. She had just walked out of the classroom when she saw a shadow flickering in front of the window. Her heart tightened and she called out: "Who's there?" The person immediately responded, "YaYa, don't be afraid, it's your father." The father came to her and handed over a roll of something, instructing her: "It's getting cold, you've always kicked off your blanket while sleeping since you were little, be careful not to get cold." She returned to the dormitory, opened the package, and found a new cotton quilt inside. She buried her head into it, took a deep breath, and smelled the scent of sunshine. She knew that it must have been dried by her father all day, and then he rushed to send it to her.
After the divorce, she raised her child alone. She suffered from insomnia, lost a lot of hair, was dissatisfied with her job, and suddenly looked much older. Once, her child suddenly asked her: "Does Daddy not want us anymore?" She held back her tears and said: "No matter what, Mommy will always love you." As soon as these words came out, she stopped, realizing that her father had once said the same thing to her, but she never understood her father's feelings at the time.
When she was in her third year of college, her father remarried. Her father called her and boldly said: "She is an elementary school teacher, retired, meticulous, and has a good temper... If you don't have time, you don't have to come back..." At that time, she also had a boyfriend and realized that some things are about fate. She also knew in her heart how lonely her father had been these years. She remained silent for a long time on the phone before softly saying: "In the future, don't fight with people anymore." Her father repeatedly agreed: "Yes, no more fighting, no more fighting."
The next day, her father suddenly came. Without any explanation, he packed up her stuff, picked up her child, and said, "Let's go home to grandpa."
Her father said on the phone, "If you're not doing well, come back. Let the aunt take care of the child, can't dad support you?" She remained silent, not speaking, tears dropping one by one, thinking her father couldn't see them.
She stubbornly stuck to her own decision and got married in her second year of work. However, as her father pitifully predicted, she inherited his quick temper. When anger flared up, arguments were inevitable. He never argued with her, but his silence and refusal to back down made her even harder to bear. Cold wars, separation, when her child was two years old, they divorced.
Her father wasn't actually a man with a good temper; he was fiery and easily angered. Often, just for some trivial daily matters, he would have a big argument with her mother. Every time, they would argue so loudly. Her father liked drinking, and every time he drank, he would get drunk and start arguing. From the time she could remember, there were rarely any warm and peaceful moments at home. Inside and out, it was always filled with the smell of gunpowder.
That day, she went home to pick up some things. When she pushed open the door, her father was curled up on the sofa, asleep, with the TV still on. Her father's hair had turned gray, his face haggard. In just a year, the once handsome and vigorous father suddenly looked old. She suddenly realized how lonely her father really was. She stood there for a long time, then took a blanket to cover her father, who suddenly woke up. Seeing her, he seemed a bit nervous and hurried to tidy up the messy things on the sofa. Then he remembered something, put down the things in his hands, and spoke incoherently: "Have you eaten? Wait, I'll make your favorite braised pork ribs..." She originally wanted to say that she wouldn't eat and would just take her things and leave. But seeing the expectant and nervous expression on her father's face, she felt sorry and sat down. Her father was happy like a child, and quickly ran into the kitchen. She heard her father drop the spoon on the ground and break a bowl. She went in and helped her father pick up the pieces. Her father awkwardly said to her: "My hands are too slippery..." Her eyes were wet, and she suddenly regretted: why did she hurt the person who deeply loved her?
Later, her father often mentioned this event to her. Those small details, repeated many times by her father, were carved into a scene. Each time her father finished talking, he would sigh: "You were so small, unconscious for so long, how did you suddenly wake up?" At this moment, her father's eyes were full of tenderness and affection. The more he talked, the more annoyed she became, and she retorted him. Her father didn't care, just laughed happily and contentedly. Her arrogance and tyranny grew under her father's indulgence.
Her father's hand, embarrassingly stopped in mid-air. According to his temperament, if it were someone else, the slap would have already landed. She saw the muscles on her father's face twitch violently several times. He said: "No matter what, Dad will always love you!" When her father was about to leave, he looked back at her deeply. She watched her father walk away, and the defenses she had built crumbled. Alone in the quiet dormitory, looking at the ribs scattered on the floor, she burst into tears.
However, as his daughter, she knew she was happy.
She thought this happiness would last a lifetime, until one day her father solemnly told her, "From now on, you live with Dad." Later she learned that it was her mother who proposed the divorce. Her mother said, "I'm tired of the years of quarreling and fighting." Her father insisted for a long time, ultimately choosing to give in. His only condition was that he must take her along.
Walking on the street, her father withdrew his arm and said, "You walk ahead, I'll follow behind." She smiled and asked, "What, embarrassed?" Her father said, "You walk ahead, if anything unexpected happens, I can warn you to dodge." She stopped, the sunlight shining from behind, and she suddenly realized, when did her father's back become so hunched? She remembered that her father used to be such a tall and strong man. But now, this old man still walked behind her, warning her of possible dangers...
Her feelings for her father were complex. She once felt sad for her mother and thought in her heart: when I find a boyfriend, the first requirement is that he must be gentle and tolerant, the second is that he doesn't smoke or drink. She would never find a man like her father: irritable, critical, cautious, causing chaos at home over trivial matters.
Her father's gentleness and indulgence were only given to her. He rarely argued with her mother in front of her. If she happened to encounter their arguments, no matter how fierce they were, as long as she shouted: "Stop arguing!" The imposing father would immediately lower his head and stop. So later, whenever her parents argued, her brother would immediately call her. Everyone knew: only she could subdue her father.
Even though it was her mother who proposed the divorce, she still stubbornly blamed her father. From then on, she became a cold and lonely child, refusing her father's care and moving to live at school. Her father came to the school to find her, carrying a thermos full of her favorite braised pork ribs. She didn't even look, keeping her head down and shoveling rice into her mouth, bite after bite, until tears filled her eyes. Her father sighed, begging her to go home, but she kept her face cold and silent. Her father raised his hand to touch her head, pityingly saying, "Look, in just a few days, you've become so thin." She slapped her book in front of her father's hand, shouting hysterically, "Don't bother me!" Then she suddenly swept the table, and the lunch box fell to the ground with a clang. The dark red pork ribs spilled all over the floor, and the rich aroma filled the entire dormitory.
In early spring, seeing her dull clothes, her father insisted on buying her new clothes. He proudly opened his wallet to show her, revealing a stack of new bills, which were his newly received retirement pay. She smiled, stepped forward, and playfully hugged her father's arm, saying, "So this is what it feels like to be with a wealthy man!" Her father then acted like a celebrity, walking proudly, making both her and the aunt laugh.
She walked ahead, thinking, in this life, who else would wait for her whole life like her father? Thinking about this, tears couldn't help but flow out. She didn't dare to wipe them, fearing that her father behind her would see. She straightened her back and kept walking forward.
When she was two years old, she once had a high fever and lost consciousness. Her father carried her to the hospital in the middle of the night. On the way, she, who had been unconscious for a day, suddenly opened her eyes and clearly called out: "Dad!"
It was still her room, and the aunt had already cleaned it spotlessly. Her father liked cooking and prepared different meals for her every day. Her father was old and forgetful, often putting double the salt in the dishes. But he remembered every detail of her childhood clearly. Her father told her child again about her fever as a child. Her father said: "It was your mom's cry of 'Dad' that tied my heart forever..." She listened nearby, suddenly remembering that poem: "Old age brings much forgetfulness, but never forgets longing."
That night, after everyone went to sleep, her father came to her room and seriously said to her: "YaYa, this boy isn't suitable for you." Her stubborn side came up again: "How is he unsuitable? At least, he doesn't drink, his temper is better than yours, and he never argues with me." Her father was a bit embarrassed but still advised her: "You lack experience, this kind of person, he may not argue with you, but he remembers everything in his heart."
She was just a spoiled child by her father.
During the summer vacation, she brought her boyfriend back home. There was new furniture at home, and the flowers on the balcony were in full bloom. Her father was neatly dressed and spirited. Facing the slightly plump woman, she hesitantly called her "Aunt." The aunt was so excited that she joyfully went to the kitchen to cook, coming out every once in a while to ask if she preferred sweet or spicy food, whether the taste should be light or heavy. She then directed her father, telling him to peel an onion here, wash vegetables there. She didn't expect that her irascible father would be obediently tamed by her. She heard her father and the aunt laughing softly in the kitchen, the sound of the oil pot sizzling, and the smell of cooking oil spreading from the kitchen. Her eyes felt warm, this was the true taste of home.