"It's me," Lu Li said, his voice perfectly calm—yet tangled with emotions even he couldn't name.

An Baili dropped to her knees before him, not daring to touch him. "I'm sorry… what my father did… I didn't know…" Her words fractured, tears streaming. She knew exactly how deeply An Gulaí's actions had scarred Lu Li. Truly, every hardship in Lu Li's first half of life traced back to him.

After getting the document, An Baili's first impulse was to find Lu Li and verify it. He'd been with Chu Jingyi then. Failing to reach him, she stilled herself and went home to confront her father. How could she face Lu Li again? Guilt? Awkwardness? Shame? Did she even deserve to ask for forgiveness? Was *this* why he'd cut ties?

Kneeling there, she offered this raw, ancient gesture of apology—for herself, for her father. Lu Li didn't look at her. "You don't need to kneel before anyone. Not even me." He didn't help his former wife up. He simply walked calmly toward the living room. Inside him, a volcano simmered—not just anger, but something far deeper.

"You? Back again?" An Gulaí sprawled on the sofa, beer bottles littering the floor. The TV played a music program featuring Accusefive's "Ugly People Make Trouble":

*"Cherishing someone suddenly feels so trivial,*

*Time flows—I fear my sincerity makes me seem childish.*

*Always told it's a reward for a bright future,*

*How do I judge this world's hidden malice?"*

"Go cook. I need to speak with him," An Gulaí barked at his daughter. An Baili wiped her tears, head bowed, and slipped toward the kitchen. "Please, sit," he said to Lu Li, clearing space on the sofa. His tone was natural—no longer treating Lu Li as just a student. The moment he saw that document, he knew: Lu Li was no ordinary boy. Maybe… closure waited in him?

An Gulaí reeked of stale alcohol. Lu Li refused to sit near him.

"So? What do you want? Regret sparing me last time?" An Gulaí chuckled. "Fine. I'm here. Do what you will."

Lu Li: "Your wife died in childbirth. Correct?"

The fake smile vanished. A wolfish glint flashed in An Gulaí's eyes. His wife—his absolute taboo.

Unflinching, Lu Li leaned inches from the father-in-law he'd never met. "I know why you broke. In 1992, you met Mei Jinliu on a blind date. Twenty-one. Privileged. Educated. A rising star, right?"

"Mei Jinliu—so beautiful. Humble origins, yet gentle, wise, kind. Of course our star fell head over heels. A perfect love story."

Lu Li gripped An Gulaí's collar, straightening the stained shirt. "But everyone hid one truth: she already loved someone else. She only went for her parents' sake. You played the fool—blissfully happy for nine years… until she died in labor delivering *another man's* child. Right?"

An Gulaí snapped. He shoved Lu Li down, snatched a glass bottle. "You're dead! I'll kill you!"

Every detail came from Chu Xiaodong's files. Lu Li spoke them only to wound.

Yes—An Baili was not his blood. An Gulaí loved Mei Jinliu too fiercely. He'd lied to himself for years, calling her his daughter. But drunk, he'd always see her final whisper:

*"Husband… I'm sorry… But I don't regret this child… Please… protect her…"*

What could he do? He couldn't hate her. That was his ruin. He hated himself—a pathetic fool, cuckolded. He hated *her* too. Why not tell him sooner? Maybe… just maybe… he'd have forgiven her.

"Dad! No!" An Baili burst from the doorway, shielding Lu Li. "Don't hurt him! Please!"

"I'M NOT YOUR FATHER!" An Gulaí roared—then crumpled. Sixteen years of pretense, for a dying wish. He was exhausted.

Lu Li seized An Baili's wrist. Before she reacted, he pushed her sleeve up. Bruises—dense, fresh—covered her arm. She gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was iron. She saw his eyes: wide, uncharacteristically fierce.

"Who did this?"

Silence. Yesterday's confrontation had earned her only fists.

*He still cares…* A bittersweet warmth bloomed in her chest. No matter how many rebirths, Lu Li remained *Lu Li*—the boy who'd always reach for her in darkness. Suddenly, everything felt worth it: the broken home, his rejection after rebirth. One word from him made it all meaningful.

The volcano in Lu Li's chest neared eruption. He'd come for two things: retrieve the file, confirm An Baili's safety. Now—a third. He gently pushed her aside, lifted a shattered bottle, and walked toward the sobbing man on his knees.

The TV swelled to the chorus:

*"Ugly people make trouble.*

*Confess everything—you've got no cover.*

*Accounts don't add up, honesty means nothing.*

*Deny it? Still try to weasel out?*

*Ugly people make trouble… with no proof to show."*

If asked what "youth" meant, Lu Li might once have given a poetic answer. Reality was messier. Impulse. Recklessness. Regret. To him, it all distilled to one word:

*Passion.*

Crack!

The emerald bottle exploded like fireworks—glass and blood flying. An Gulaí jolted, tried to fight back. Lu Li kicked him down, snatched another half-full bottle.

"An Gulaí. You wanted death? Then resist." Even seething, Lu Li's voice stayed eerily calm.

"I…" Words failed. Facing real death, he didn't want it. Lu Li—lean, coiled strength—was unstoppable. An Gulaí's broken body could only plead with his eyes. Toward An Baili.

"Don't… please… don't kill me…"

An Baili clung to Lu Li's leg, horrified. Blood slicked his hand—An Gulaí's *and his own*. Glass shards bit deep; he gripped tighter as crimson dripped. "Li, no! Don't kill him! Don't stain your hands!" she sobbed.

Words lose weight with use. Silence carries weight. So does anger. The quieter the man, the fiercer the storm.

Crack!

Lu Li struck again. His right hand went numb from the force. An Gulaí slumped, blood pooling beneath his head—a chilling sight.

An Baili froze. *Murder charges. His future—ruined because of me.* Swallowing fear, she moved to check his breath.

Lu Li pulled her back. "Now… I'm ready to hear your explanation." His voice trembled, hollow. Unsteady.

Her eyes flooded. She no longer cared if An Gulaí lived or died. She threw her arms around Lu Li and wept without restraint.

The TV faded softly:

*"Cherishing someone suddenly feels so trivial,*

*Time flows—I fear my sincerity makes me seem childish.*

*Always told it's a reward for a bright future,*

*How do I judge this world's hidden malice?*

*Ugly people make trouble."*