Chapter Thirty-One: Father

Zhou Guowei frowned the moment he read the first sentence of the essay.

The opening line of the second paragraph made his brow furrow even deeper.

"My father passed away when I was very young, though I once longed for a father's love."

How could this child write about himself as if he were dead? He was clearly alive and well!

A strange sense of obstruction, like a wall, rose within Zhou Guowei. He read the essay from beginning to end in one go. At first, his brow was tightly knitted, but by the end, his expression slowly relaxed.

The homeroom teacher, Chen Yongwen, understood Zhou Guowei’s feelings, but there was nothing to be done; he had never truly been a part of Zhou Ziyang’s life. It was no surprise that Ziyang could write such a piece.

"Ziyang's father, essays are always a mix of truth and fiction. We all know this piece is fictionalized, but the emotions expressed within it are sincere."

"Both of your children are in my class. It is not my place to interfere in your family affairs, but I still feel you should give Ziyang more care and attention."

When Zhou Guowei first started reading, he had felt bewildered and even a bit angry, thinking Ziyang was being disrespectful to his father. But as he read on, that confusion deepened, eventually turning into shame—a profound sense of guilt toward his son.

Chen Yongwen was right. The story was fake, but the feelings were real. The last time he could remember seeing his son was back in elementary school. Six or seven years had vanished in the blink of an eye. Was that any different from being dead?

In the essay, Ziyang had fabricated a scene: being called to the office by his teacher after a fight in middle school. The teacher asked, "Why did you fight?" and Ziyang replied, "Because he said I was a child without a father!"

Seeing those words, Zhou Guowei’s eyes turned red, and his hand, holding the test paper, tightened involuntarily.

He remembered his own childhood. He had truly worked his way up from the countryside. As a frail boy, he had been bullied, and he had secretly sworn to study hard so that his own children would never have to suffer the same.

Yet, thirty or forty years later, he had finally made something of himself—so why was his son still being bullied? He had been living happily, surrounded by a wife seven years his junior, treating someone else’s daughter as his own while completely forgetting his own son.

Thinking of this, Zhou Guowei wondered how he was any different from a beast. He had naively thought that as long as his son was growing up healthy with his ex-wife, providing money, a car, and a house later on would be enough.

How childish his thoughts had been.

After finishing the essay, silence was all that remained in Zhou Guowei’s heart.

"The line about grass on the grave turning green and then yellow can be interpreted as time passing quickly. Ziyang’s prose is very simple; he always manages to touch people with the most basic of words." Fearing the word "grave" might be offensive, Chen Yongwen quickly added the explanation.

Zhou Guowei remained silent for a long while, sitting like a statue, expressionless. It took him a moment to snap out of it.

"Mr. Chen," he said, "you don't need to explain it to me."

"It is my failure as a father after all these years," he finally managed to say.

Hearing this, Chen Yongwen relaxed slightly and said with a wry smile, "The fact that you can say that means it’s not too late. After all, you are father and son."

After reading the essay, Zhou Guowei became taciturn. Just as Chen Yongwen had said, the content was fictional, but the feelings were real. He and Ziyang lived in the same city, yet was it truly going to end with his son standing over his grave, having never called him "Father" even once in his life?

Zhou Guowei asked how much leave his son had taken. Chen Yongwen was evasive, saying he wasn't quite sure. "Ziyang is a child who has always been more mature than those from typical families, so I didn't press him," he explained.

Zhou Guowei nodded in understanding.

Around noon, his phone rang. Knowing he wouldn't see his son today, he asked Chen Yongwen to give Ziyang his new iPhone and left a message for the boy to take care of his health.

"Studies are important, but your health is even more so." With that, Zhou Guowei left.

Xia Wei had been waiting anxiously outside the office. When Zhou Guowei came out, she greeted him as "Uncle," but he was too heavy-hearted to pay much attention, simply nodding slightly as he walked away.

That afternoon, Zhou Ziyang returned to school.

The recruitment for part-time work was going smoothly. Zhou Ziyang had guessed there would be many students giving up on the college entrance exams to work, but he hadn't expected such high numbers. In just one night, they had rounded up fifty people, even exceeding the target.

Most of that group were not the studious type, but they were eager to earn money. Moreover, Li Dongfeng had returned from the south and debunked the lies about high-paying jobs online, instead promoting the work Zhou Ziyang had found: twenty yuan an hour, eight hours a day, totaling 160 yuan. Where else could you find such a deal? Plus, it was near home and the factory environment was decent.

"You don't know, the factory manager and our Brother Zhou are like brothers! Coming with me is better than being cheated by strangers, right?"

In 2015, high school students in the county were mainly concentrated in the First and Third High Schools, though the rural schools also had plenty of students. They lacked the resources of the city schools, so they were eager to find work. Upon hearing about a reliable, high-paying job, they agreed without hesitation.

In one night, Zhou Ziyang had recruited sixty workers, bringing the total to eighty. At noon, he booked a small restaurant to treat them all to a meal. These sturdy young men wore innocent, rustic smiles.

One after another, they pulled people over to meet Zhou Ziyang, as if looking for credit. "Brother Zhou! This is the guy I brought! Call him Brother Zhou!"

"Brother Zhou!"

Most of these boys were from the countryside, dark-skinned and unrefined, but physically strong. Zhou Ziyang greeted them politely and asked if they weren't going to take the college entrance exams.

The student who brought them, a boy nicknamed Niu Er who had returned from the south with Li Dongfeng, grinned. "Brother Zhou, these guys are like us; they just finished their single-enrollment exams. I told our village you were hiring, and so many people wanted to come! I have more brothers who said they’d come after the entrance exams. You have to save spots for us!"

Zhou Ziyang laughed. "Don't worry, bring them over. I'll save spots for as many as you have!"

"Heh heh, hurry up and thank Brother Zhou!" Niu Er urged his brothers.

"Thank you, Brother Zhou!"

Fifty young men, aged eighteen or nineteen, packed the small restaurant. Li Dongfeng and his circle, who knew Zhou Ziyang well, acted like his confidants, boasting about his abilities—from being the child of a high-ranking official to being best friends with the boss. They made him sound omnipotent. The others, only half-understanding, looked at Zhou Ziyang with newfound awe.

Many had discussed this with their parents beforehand. The parents had told them, "If someone is willing to introduce you to a job, you must remember their kindness." Some even accompanied their children, bringing baskets of eggs or homemade pickles. They didn't have fancy gifts, but they were genuinely grateful.

Honestly, seeing these parents—who were old enough to be his own—speaking to him with such respect and using honorifics, Zhou Ziyang felt unworthy. He heard the same thing over and over: "This child has been honest since he was small, please look after him."

Because of their upbringing, these boys were often reticent, which their parents interpreted as being socially inept. One father, frustrated that his son wouldn't speak, kicked him, scolding, "You can't even get a word out! Do you think it's easy for someone to get you a job, and you can't even say thank you?" The father raised his hand to slap the boy.

Zhou Ziyang quickly intervened. "Uncle, please don't hit him. I don't have so many rules here. Just leave the child to me; you can rest easy. We’re all about the same age, like brothers and friends. Even at work, I won't let anyone bully us."

Zhou Ziyang pulled the boy—who was nineteen and quite tall—near him. The father grabbed Zhou Ziyang’s hand, eyes welling up with tears. "He's just an honest, quiet boy. I'm just a simple farmer and don't know much, so please, just look after him!"