After coaxing Grandpa to finish his meal and chatting with him awhile about daily life, I pulled Dad out of the hospital room.

“Did the doctor say it’s only conservative treatment?”

In the corridor, I held the man before me in my gaze. “No surgery? What about chemo?”

The hallway felt slightly warmer than inside the room.

Nurses in white pushed carts between doors.

Cries, laughter, murmurs drifted from every direction.

Above the nurse’s station, an LCD screen played the evening news—

“In Xiangcao City, Guiyuan Province—one of China’s modern international hubs—among its 1.09 million registered rural households, some remain low-income. The municipal government has launched targeted aid programs…”

“Each evening, Long’an Village comes alive. Residents dance, cycle, and play ball in the new park…”

“We’re blessed by this era. It’s not that we’re growing younger—it’s that our village climbs higher day by day, like sesame stalks blooming upward…”

Overlapping the elderly voice on screen came the station’s mechanical chime:

*Ding dong!* Room 2401 needs a needle change.

*Ding dong!* Room 2431 requires assistance.

“Yeah… just conservative treatment,” Dad murmured under my stare, a trace of sorrow in his eyes. “Too late. Found it too late.”

“He mentioned chest tightness half a year ago… but wouldn’t say more. I thought it was just a cold. Didn’t follow up.”

“Is the money enough?”

“Huh?”

“The money,” I nodded toward Grandpa’s room. “If not, we can pool some.”

“Yes, yes—it’s enough. Admitted him a few days ago for tests. Didn’t cost much.”

Surprised I’d ask, he reached out, ruffled my hair. “Xiao Xue… you’ve really grown. So tall now.”

From here, we were nearly the same height.

But in memory… he’d been so tall.

He carried me across streams teeming with fish. Lifted me to pluck fruit from high branches.

Maybe from years of heavy labor—though only forty—he now seemed fifty, sixty.

“Dad… so have you.” I forced a small smile. “Been ten years since we last talked, right?”

“Yeah… ten years.” He sighed, hesitated. “Which college are you at?”

“Xiangzhi… Xiangcao Vocational College.”

“Mom didn’t tell you?”

“She…” He looked away. “Only gave me your number.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing.”

*So that’s how it is…*

I recalled waking in the ward earlier, overhearing Mom and Grandma:

“Xiao Xue has no friends. Her dad went off chasing paternity tests, caused the divorce…”

“We’ve been gone too much. How’s a kid supposed to survive this world…”

No wonder they refused his request to visit Grandpa. Mom still blamed him for leaving. They even linked my river incident to growing up fatherless.

This only deepened my certainty: Mom hadn’t betrayed him.

Either a mix-up at birth… or the test was wrong.

“Dad.” I took a breath. “Do you still have that report?”

“Report?”

“The paternity test.”

“Gone.” He blinked, shook his head. “Lost it.”

“Could the hospital have mixed up samples?” I turned serious. “Or an error?”

“No. We went early morning—empty hospital. When results came two weeks later, I didn’t believe it. Made them rerun it… Don’t you remember? We went back and forth.”

“Which hospital?”

“Traditional Chinese Medicine Hospital on Honggang Road, Lichun City.”

“Lichun?” I paused. “Where was I born?”

Lichun City—120 km from Xiangcao—was one of Guiyuan’s few tier-one cities. Smaller than Xiangcao, under an hour by bullet train. Nicknamed “Forest City” for its greenery, hailed by some expert as “best air quality in China,” it drew crowds. Housing prices soared past the provincial capital. A classic “low-income, high-cost” trap.

Geographically, our village reached Lichun easier than Xiangcao. His choice made sense.

“Where?” Dad frowned at my question. “County hospital. Linghai County. Old Man Zhao drove us in his tricycle.”

*County hospital?*

“Dad, think carefully,” I pressed gently. “Any other newborns there that night? Any chance of a mix-up?”

“Mix-up?” He looked flustered. “Wait… let me think…”

After seven seconds: “No. Pitch dark—four, five AM. Only two nurses on duty. They called Director Li himself to deliver you. County hospital had two delivery rooms max. Couldn’t have mixed up two babies.”

*Hmm…*

True. A small county hospital, dead of night—unlikely another birth coincided. Even if one did, with only two infants…

But then why the negative result? Did Mom…? Or did Dad fake it to force divorce?

If he faked it… why return now?

“Xiao Xue, listen.” Dad gripped my shoulders. “Dad doesn’t care anymore. Don’t overthink it. You’re my daughter. Let’s just live well. Okay?”

“Huh? You spent ten years on this?”

“Nah…” He *thumped* onto a corridor bench, hands covering his face. “Regretted leaving a month later. But I’d said cruel things… too ashamed to return. Thought I’d work hard in the city, earn money, then talk to your mom.”

“Then… Grandpa and I got trapped in a pyramid scheme.”

“Slept on streets. Someone offered work. Watched videos, saw products… realized too late. Taken far away. Lost money, phones. Police brought us home nearly a year later.”

Voice cracking: “You were out with Grandma that day. Mom gave us a thousand yuan. Said since we divorced, don’t come back. So we left.”

“All these years… I’ve carried guilt. For you.”

I pulled out my phone. Searched: *Guiyuan pyramid scheme, father son, Tianshan Village, 2019, 2020.*

Found it: *“Father and Son Rescued from Pyramid Scheme After Year-Long Ordeal.”*

Pixelated faces on screen—Dad and Grandpa.

*Ugh… what a mess you’ve both been through.*

“These years, Grandpa and I rented nearby. Did odd jobs. Knew you and Mom moved here too… but couldn’t bring myself to call. Until Grandpa’s diagnosis…”

He sighed. “Your mom’s stubborn. Always has been. She thinks I forged that report to slander her. Won’t forgive me.”

*Truth’s still unclear.*

His sudden “blood doesn’t matter” feels… off. TV tropes scream hidden motive—like discovering I’m some heiress. But Xiao Xue’s memories whisper he’s not that man. News confirms the scheme. And Mom? She’d never forgive a man who faked betrayal, demanded divorce, then reappeared.

“Okay.” I softened my voice, offered a smile. “Dad, I’ll let it go. Let’s move forward.”

But inside, one thought echoed:

*"Guess I’ll have to dig into this myself."*