When she was two years old

Her feelings for her father were complex. She once felt sorrow for her mother and thought in her heart: when she would find a boyfriend in the future, her first request would be that he must be gentle and tolerant, and secondly, he should not smoke or drink. She would never find a man like her father: irritable, picky, suspicious, and prone to making a fuss over trivial matters, causing chaos at home.

However, as his daughter, she knew she was happy.

When the autumn wind began to blow, after evening classes, the night wind already had a coolness. As soon as she stepped out of the classroom, she saw a shadow flickering by the window. Her heart tightened as she called out, "Who's there?" That person immediately responded, "Yaya, don't be afraid, it's dad." Her father walked up to her, handed her a bundle, and instructed her, "It's getting cold, you've always kicked off your blankets while sleeping since you were young, be careful not to catch a chill." When she returned to her dormitory and opened the package, it was a new quilt. She buried her head into it, took a deep breath, and smelled the scent of sunshine. She knew that her father must have aired it all day and then rushed to bring it to her.

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 whole day, suddenly opened her eyes and clearly called out: "Dad!"

She walked ahead, thinking, in this life, who else would wait for her lifetime like her father? Thinking of this, tears couldn't help but stream down her face. She didn't dare to wipe them, fearing that her father behind her would see. She just straightened her back and kept walking forward.

That night, after everyone went to sleep, her father came to her room and seriously told her: "Yaya, this boy is not suitable for you." Her stubborn streak flared up again: "How is he unsuitable? At least, he doesn't drink, his temper is much better than yours, and he has never argued with me." The father was somewhat embarrassed but still advised her: "You have little experience, these kinds of people, they may not argue with you, but they are silently keeping track of every little thing."

The gentleness and indulgence of her father were only given to her. He rarely argued with her mother in front of her. If she happened to encounter their quarrels, no matter how fierce the argument, as long as she shouted, "Stop arguing!" the usually domineering father would immediately lower his head and stop. So much so that later on, whenever her parents argued, her brother would immediately call her because everyone knew: only she could subdue her father.

During the summer vacation, she brought her boyfriend home. The family had added new furniture, and the flowers on the balcony were blooming beautifully. Her father was neatly dressed and full of spirit. Facing the slightly plump woman, she hesitantly called out: "Auntie." Auntie was flustered, joyfully went to the kitchen to cook, coming out every now and then to ask if she preferred sweet or spicy food, whether the taste should be light or heavy. She also directed her father, telling him to peel an onion or wash vegetables. She didn't expect that her fiery-tempered father would obediently follow her instructions like a child. She heard her father and aunt laughing softly in the kitchen, the sound of oil sizzling, and the smell of cooking from the kitchen. Her eyes felt warm; this was the true taste of home.

Later, her father often mentioned this incident to her. Those small details, repeated many times by her father, were carved into a scene. Every time her father finished speaking, he would sigh: "Tell me, you were such a tiny person, and you were unconscious for so long, how did you suddenly wake up?" At that moment, her father's eyes were filled with tenderness and love. After hearing it too many times, she became annoyed and retorted sharply, but her father didn't care, just laughed happily and contentedly. Her arrogance and dominance grew under her father's indulgence.

One day, she went home to get 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 complexion haggard. In just a year, her vigorous father had suddenly aged. She suddenly realized how lonely her father actually was. She stood there for a long time, then took a blanket to cover her father. Her father woke up abruptly. Seeing her, he looked relaxed and quickly tidied up the messy things on the sofa, then remembered something, put down what he was holding, and spoke incoherently: "Have you eaten yet? Wait, I'll make your favorite braised pork ribs..." She originally wanted to say she wouldn't eat and would just take the things and leave. But seeing her father's expectant and nervous expression, she couldn't bear it and sat down. Her father was delighted like a child, and hurried into the kitchen. She heard her father drop the spoon and break a bowl. She went in and helped her father pick up the pieces. Her father sheepishly said to her, "My hands are too slippery..." Her eyes became moist, and she suddenly regretted: why hurt the person who deeply loves her?

Even though it was her mother who initiated the divorce, she still obstinately 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, bringing a thermos full of her favorite braised pork ribs. She didn't even look, kept her head down, and stuffed rice into her mouth, bite after bite, until tears filled her eyes. Her father sighed and begged her to go home. She coldly faced him and remained silent. Her father raised his hand to touch her head, saying sympathetically, "Look, it's only been a few days, and you're already this thin." She slapped her book in front of her father's hand and screamed hysterically, "Don't meddle in my affairs!" Then she violently swept the table, and the lunch box fell to the ground with a clang, the dark red pork ribs spilling everywhere, the rich aroma filling the entire dormitory.

Her father's hand, which had been raised, awkwardly hung in mid-air. According to his temperament, if it had been anyone else, a slap would have already landed. She saw the muscles on her father's face twitch violently several times as 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 her guarded defenses crumbled. Alone in the quiet dormitory, looking at the ribs scattered on the floor, she burst into tears.

Walking on the street, her father suddenly pulled his arm away and said, "You go ahead, I'll follow behind." She laughed and asked, "What, are you embarrassed?" Her father said, "If you go ahead, in case anything unexpected happens, I can warn you to dodge." She stopped, sunlight shining from behind her, and she suddenly realized, when had her father's waist become bent? She remembered that her father used to be such a tall and strong man. Yet, this old man still chose to walk behind her, warning her of possible dangers...

It was still her room, and the aunt had already cleaned it spotlessly. Her father liked to cook, preparing three meals a day for her in various ways. Her father was old and forgetful, often putting double the amount of salt in the dishes. However, he remembered everything clearly about her childhood. Her father recounted her childhood fever to her child, saying, "It was your mom's one word 'dad' that captured grandpa's heart..." She listened nearby, suddenly remembering that line of poetry: "Old age brings much forgetfulness, except for not forgetting longing."

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 falling drop by drop, thinking her father couldn't see.

The next day, her father suddenly arrived, packing her things without hesitation, picking up the child, and saying, "Let's go home with grandpa."

After the divorce, she lived alone with her child, suffering from insomnia, her hair falling out in large clumps, her work unsatisfactory, and she aged rapidly. Once, the child suddenly asked her, "Does daddy not want us anymore?" She held back her tears and said, "No matter what, mom will always love you." As soon as the words left her mouth, she paused, realizing that her father had once said the same thing to her, but she had never understood her father's feelings.

In her third year of university, her father remarried. Her father called her and boldly said, "She's an elementary school teacher, retired, meticulous, and good-natured... If you don't have time, you don't need to come back..." She was also dating someone at the time, understanding that some things depend on fate. Deep down, she knew how lonely her father had been all these years. She remained silent on the other end of the phone for a long time before gently saying, "From now on, don't argue with people anymore." Her father repeatedly agreed, "Alright, won't argue, won't argue."

She thought this kind of happiness would last a lifetime, until one day her father solemnly informed her, "In the future, you will 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 arguing and fighting." Her father insisted for a long time, ultimately choosing to give in. His only condition was that he must take her with him.

She was just a spoiled child by her father.

In early spring, seeing her wearing a set of dark clothes, her father insisted on buying her new ones. He proudly opened his wallet to show her a stack of new bills, his newly issued retirement pay. She smiled, stepped forward, and playfully linked arms with her father, teasing, "So this is what it feels like to lean on a big shot!" Her father strutted around like a celebrity, and both she and the aunt couldn't help but laugh.

In fact, her father wasn't a good-tempered person, easily irritable and prone to anger. Often, just over trivial household matters, he would have a big argument with her mother, each time causing a huge commotion. Her father loved drinking, and every time he drank, he would get drunk and start an argument. Since she could remember, there were few times when her home was peaceful and harmonious. Inside and outside, it was always filled with the atmosphere of explosives.

She stubbornly stuck to her own choices and got married in her second year of work. However, her father's prediction proved tragically accurate. She inherited her father's short temper, and when angry, arguments were inevitable. He never argued with her, but his silence and refusal to back down made her even more unbearable. Cold wars, living separately, and when her child was two years old, they divorced.