The so-called barbecue campsite was a designated area in the park, already equipped with grills. All they had to do was sit down and order.

The four girls gathered around a circular charcoal grill and started ordering. Wen Jiaqi was the most enthusiastic, rattling off a long list of meats. Xia Ziying preferred vegetables. Jiang Xuehan and Li Xinglan were the easygoing types, happy to let their roommates decide.

Soon, a server brought platters of raw meat and lit the charcoal. The mouthwatering aroma of grilling meat filled the air, thoroughly whetting their appetites. They eagerly watched the coals heat up.

Just then, a stray plastic bag floated down and hit Xia Ziying on the head. She flared up instantly: "Who throws trash like this? Have some manners!"

Indeed, the once-lush green lawn was littered with snack wrappers and fruit peels—eyesores left by careless visitors. Thankfully, park cleaners were on duty. One was working nearby, sweeping up debris.

But why did that cleaner look so familiar?

He wore a blue jumpsuit, a mask, and a cap, revealing only half his face. Yet Jiang Xuehan recognized him immediately. She nearly cried out.

It was her biological father, Meng Jianguo!

At almost the same moment, Meng Jianguo glanced toward Jiang Xuehan—but only briefly. He turned away and continued cleaning.

To him, Jiang Xuehan bore no resemblance to his daughter Meng Han. She was just an ordinary pretty girl passing by. Nothing more.

But for Jiang Xuehan, seeing his slightly hunched figure made her eyes sting with tears.

Meng Jianguo had once worked his way up to a minor management role at a private company. Then his wife’s sudden death shattered him. After the funeral, he drowned his grief in nightly binges, neglecting his job until he was fired.

Nearly forty, with low education and no specialized skills, he never found stable work again. He drifted through odd jobs—moving furniture, washing cars, tollbooth shifts—but none lasted.

Recently, the forest park hired temporary local cleaners with decent pay. He took the job, desperate for money.

The man before her looked far older than the father in her memories. Gray streaked his temples beneath his cap. Deep crow’s feet framed his eyes.

He moved slowly, a large trash bag in one hand, a long-handled grabber in the other, pausing to pick up litter scattered across the grass.

Her sister was hospitalized long-term. She herself had vanished without a trace. For over a year, every time he returned home, only silence and empty rooms awaited him. How had he endured it?

Though Jiang Xuehan had cut ties with him, her nose stung at the thought.

The strong, sunny father who’d carried her on his shoulders across this very lawn a decade ago, racing with kites in the wind—now so aged, so bent.

"Xuehan? Xuehan? What are you staring at?" Xia Ziying asked curiously.

"Nothing... just... feels bad for the cleaner. So much trash to pick up," Jiang Xuehan replied lightly, forcing her voice steady.

"Yeah, people’s manners are awful these days. We shouldn’t litter either. Hey, there’s this hilarious meme on Weibo—I’ll read it to you..."

Before Xia Ziying could finish, a furious shout erupted nearby: "Damn you! Where are your eyes?!"

Jiang Xuehan whipped around. Her father had tripped and fallen, spilling trash all over a male tourist’s leather shoes. A crushed soda can lay trampled beside him.

Clearly, the cleaner hadn’t seen the can hidden in the grass. Most people wouldn’t make a fuss—it was an accident.

But this overweight man in a tight suit wasn’t most people. He loomed over Meng Jianguo, jabbing a finger at his face: "Do you know what brand these shoes are? How much they cost? You’ve ruined them!"

Meng Jianguo quickly gathered the spilled trash. "I’m sorry," he murmured.

"Sorry?!" the man bellowed. "Look at this grease stain! Do you think ‘sorry’ wipes it clean?!"

Meng Jianguo stood silently, enduring the torrent of abuse.

Crowds gathered to watch, but no one stepped in. Who would defend a shabby middle-aged cleaner?

Xia Ziying frowned. "That guy’s so petty. It’s just an accident. Right, Xuehan? Hey—Xuehan, what’s wrong?"

Jiang Xuehan was no longer the harmless, petite girl she once was. Her eyes burned like black hellfire, scorching the ranting man in her gaze.

She stood up silently, ignoring Xia Ziying’s call, and strode toward the fat man. "Hey, uncle. Had enough yelling?"

The man—mid-forties, belly straining his shirt buttons—sneered down at the small girl. "Who the hell are you to butt in?"

Jiang Xuehan took a slow breath, clenching her fists tight. "He tripped by accident. He apologized. Why keep cursing him over nothing?"

"Nothing?!" He puffed out his chest. "These are Armani shoes! Cost over 30,000 yuan! See this stain? Cleaning fee alone is thousands! And you call me petty?!"

Her fists trembled. She wanted to slam this venomous man to the ground, beat his face into a bloody pulp until even his mother wouldn’t recognize him.

But reason held her back. She was just a petite girl now. She couldn’t even win a fight against a tall woman, let alone a man.

Yet how could she stand by while he humiliated her father?

Even after their estrangement. Even seeing him so broken. He was still the father who’d carried her on his shoulders across sunlit grass. The father who’d stared blankly at her mother’s funeral, then wept silently all night at home.

A cool female voice cut through the tension behind her: "30,000-yuan shoes? Thousands for cleaning? Fat uncle, you’re quite the liar."

Li Xinglan approached slowly, a mocking smile on her lips. "You’ve never worn real Armani. That obvious fake won’t fool anyone."

"You little bitch—!" Exposed, the man flushed crimson like a freshly skinned snake. "I bought these genuine in Europe last month! Paid in euros!"

Li Xinglan remained calm, her smile icy. "Then tell us—which city? Which mall’s boutique?"

The man choked. His face purpled. "What’s that supposed to mean? You think I can’t afford real brands?!"

Li Xinglan lifted her chin, unflinching. "I don’t know if you can afford them. But I know those shoes are knockoffs. Real Armani would never misplace the logo."

With two pretty young women confronting him, the crowd’s murmurs shifted:

"Someone who can afford 30,000-yuan shoes wouldn’t act like this."

"Showing off Taobao fakes to a cleaner? What a loser."

"Look at his gut—he’s probably just a cook or a driver."

The man had bullied the cleaner to feed his twisted sense of superiority. Now, exposed by this tall girl, rage consumed him. He grabbed Li Xinglan’s dress collar, eyes bloodshot. "Say that again, bitch!"

Li Xinglan’s voice turned arctic. "Let go of me."

Blind with fury, he looked ready to devour her whole.

This was no longer just shouting. Xia Ziying and Wen Jiaqi rushed over. Helpful bystanders pulled them apart. Seeing he’d lost the crowd, the man cursed and stormed off.

As the scene settled, Meng Jianguo faced Jiang Xuehan. He removed his mask, offering a bitter smile. "Thank you, kind little sister."

"Dad—" The word stuck in Jiang Xuehan’s throat.

He put his mask back on, picked up his trash bag and grabber, and walked away to clean another patch of grass.

The incident seemed over. The four girls from Room 312 returned to their seats. The coals were finally hot enough for grilling. They quickly moved on from the disturbance.

Only Jiang Xuehan noticed—the fat man had slipped into the shade, seemingly calling someone on his phone.