Chapter 381: Milk

I hesitated at the doorstep for a long time, unable to decide what to say first.

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a message from Xiao Sun.

*”Sis, you there yet?”*

Seeing those words, I felt a slight sense of relief.

Right, I hadn’t even told Xiao Sun I’d arrived safely.

*”I’m here.”*

I was about to slip my phone back into my pocket when I noticed the *”typing…”* indicator. So I waited a little longer.

*”Sis, my eyelid keeps twitching. Can you send me your location? After the wedding tomorrow, I’ll come pick you up.”*

I found it a little amusing. Was Xiao Sun superstitious too?

*”What’s there to worry about? I’m just going home, not heading to war.”*

*”No, sis,”* Xiao Sun replied quickly. *”Lately, I keep seeing news about bus accidents. I can’t help but worry. I’ve got nothing on tomorrow, so I’ll drive over to get you.”*

*”No, it’s too far.”*

*”Not far. Send it.”*

Seeing how insistent he was, I forwarded my location. Xiao Sun acknowledged it with a *”Got it”* before going silent again.

I put my phone away and exhaled slowly.

Yeah. I had my own life to live.

This trip back home was meant to draw a final line under this village.

The sooner it ended, the better.

I pushed the door open and found them cheerfully preparing for dinner.

My mother, my father, my younger brother, and a chubby girl I’d never seen before.

That must’ve been… my future sister-in-law?

Of the four, two rolled their eyes the moment I stepped inside, while my sister-in-law didn’t even look up, still busy eating.

Only my father stared at me blankly.

How lovely. Such a heartwarming welcome, such a harmonious family atmosphere.

*”Laidi’s back?”* My father stood up, expressionless. *”Had dinner yet?”*

*”Dad, I’ve eaten.”* I nodded. *”Chengcai’s getting married—of course I had to come back.”*

*”Good timing—you can do the dishes,”* my mother said. *”How many years has it been since you lifted a finger at home? Did I give birth to you just so you could live in comfort?”*

*”I’m not washing anything, Mom.”* I smiled and shook my head. *”The money for this meal came from me. I don’t owe you dishwashing on top of that. It’s not fair.”*

A flash of malice crossed her eyes—the kind of look only seen in courtrooms when someone wants to utterly ruin another person.

And here I was, seeing it in my own mother’s gaze.

*”Ah… child…”* My father waved me over. *”Come sit, have something to eat.”*

*”I’m not hungry, Dad.”* I reached into my bag and pulled out a thick red envelope, placing it in front of Chengcai. *”Chengcai, happy wedding. Now that you’re starting a family, you’ve got responsibilities.”*

My brother picked at his teeth with his fingers, wiped them on his pants, then opened the envelope right in front of me—never once looking my way.

He counted the money roughly, rolled his eyes, and tossed the envelope at my mother.

*”Damn bitch. Only ten grand,”* Chengcai said.

*”What?!”* My mother exploded instantly. *”Zhang Laidi!!”*

*”Mom, my name is Zhang Chenze now,”* I said.

*”Zhang Laidi, have you no shame?!”* She pointed at me, snarling. *”Out of all the older sisters in this village, you’re the only damn one who won’t help her brother get married! You’re thirty-five! You’ve worked for over a decade! No one wants you—but your brother can’t be left single!”*

*”Mom, I’m thirty-three.”* I spoke again. *”Ten thousand is more than generous. If Chengcai’s starting a family, that means he’s capable. Starting this month, I won’t be sending any more money home. I came specifically to make that clear.”*

*”WHAT?!”*

She snatched an empty bowl from the table, poised to hurl it at my face.

*”Hey!”* My father immediately blocked her. *”Enough! Enough! Laidi’s finally home—don’t hit her!”*

The tension was suffocating.

I sighed and turned away. *”I was going to show up at Chengcai’s wedding, but now I see there’s no point. Since everything’s been said, I’ll leave.”*

*”Laidi!”* My father called after me. *”It’s too late now! Stay the night, alright?”*

I glanced outside. It was already pitch black—village nights fell early, unlike in the city.

Leaving now meant no way to call a cab, and my phone was nearly dead.

I turned back and nodded. As much as I despised this place, these people were still my family.

They disgusted me, but they wouldn’t hurt me.

*”I’ll stay tonight. I’m leaving first thing tomorrow.”*

*”Laidi… won’t you stay a few more days?”* my father asked again.

*”No. I’m busy. I just came to see you all, then I’m going back.”*

With that, I walked into the inner room—where my childhood bedroom stood, untouched for years, now filled with junk and a dusty bed barely visible beneath the clutter.

The conditions didn’t faze me. I’d slept on a couch for three years—there was no hardship I couldn’t endure.

I climbed onto the bed, brushed aside cobwebs near the headboard, and found a long-forgotten wall socket. Plugging in my charger, I juiced up my phone.

At least I’d worn casual clothes—dirt could be washed off later.

This trip was about severing this unbearable bond, so enduring some discomfort was fair.

From now on, I’d slowly rebuild myself—testing the waters of happiness.

I didn’t turn on the light, just stared into the dark outside through the blackened window.

The village was quieter than the city—no midnight honking cars, no drunken shouts in the streets.

The only nuisance was the heat. June had filled the room with bugs—mosquitoes and moths, nothing I hadn’t dealt with back in Chengdu.

If I could just get through tonight, my new life would begin. This was my own personal long night.

*”Laidi… asleep?”*

My father’s voice came from the doorway.

He stood there holding a stainless steel cup.

I frowned slightly. *”No. What is it?”*

*”Brought you some milk.”* He spoke softly. *”All these years… never reminded you to drink more.”*

He set the cup on the table, sighed, and left.

Watching the still-rippling milk, I felt nauseous.

When I was nine, my father heard that milk could make a girl’s chest grow bigger—help her marry into a better family. From then on, he brought me a cup every night.

He never cared if I’d eaten, if I was happy, if the milk was expired or ice-cold—just whether I drank it.

For years after, the sight of milk made me want to vomit. It wasn’t until my insomnia got bad that I started drinking it again—on a doctor’s orders.