Chapter 434 - 243: Jiang Guoqiang Berates Lu Fan! Conflicted Afterwards: Forgiveness?

Chapter 434: Chapter 243: Jiang Guoqiang Berates Lu Fan! Conflicted Afterwards: Forgiveness?

Pan Lanfang came out of the main room, her eyes red. When she saw him, tears started falling again.

She walked over and blocked the doorway, preventing him from entering. "Xiaolu, you should go. He... he doesn’t want to see you right now."

Lu Fan looked at her and said softly, "Ma’am, I just want to say a few words to him. I’ll leave right after."

"No, he’ll be furious. You should go. Come back after he’s cooled down." Pan Lanfang shook her head, her voice choked with sobs.

Lu Fan didn’t move.

He stood there, looking toward the main room, took a deep breath, and shouted, "Sir! It’s Xiaolu! I was a bastard before! I’m sorry for what I did to Yixia, sorry to you and Ma’am, and sorry to the two kids! I know what I did is unforgivable, but I promise, I won’t let Yixia suffer ever again, and I won’t make you and Ma’am worry anymore! I’ll be good to Silu and Sifan, and I’ll support this family!"

There was no sound from inside the house.

Lu Fan shouted again, "Sir, give me one chance! I’m not asking you to forgive me right now, just please don’t chase me away!"

BANG! The bedroom door was kicked open.

Jiang Guoqiang stood in the doorway, his face ashen, his eyes so red they looked like they might bleed.

He pointed at the main gate, his voice so loud the whole street could hear. "Get out! Just get the hell out!"

Pan Lanfang quickly ran over and grabbed his arm. "Old man, don’t get so worked up..."

Jiang Guoqiang shook her hand off and pointed at Lu Fan, his own hand trembling. "Are you leaving or not? If you don’t go, I will!"

Pan Lanfang grew anxious and turned to shout at Lu Fan, "Xiaolu, go home for now! Come back after he’s calmed down!"

Lu Fan stood there, looking at the state Jiang Guoqiang was in.

He gave Jiang Guoqiang a deep bow and apologized, "Sir, I’m sorry."

After saying that, he turned and left.

Jiang Guoqiang stood in the doorway, watching his back disappear at the end of the alley, breathing raggedly.

Pan Lanfang stood beside him, holding his arm, and said softly, "Old man, let’s go inside. It’s cold out."

Jiang Guoqiang didn’t say a word. He turned, went into the house, and slammed the bedroom door shut with another BANG.

Pan Lanfang stood outside the door. Hearing no movement from within, she sighed softly.

She took out her phone and sent a message to Lu Fan.

Pan Lanfang: [Xiaolu, you should head back for now. As for your father-in-law, I’ll try to talk to him. Don’t you worry.]

Lu Fan replied quickly.

Lu Fan: [Okay, Ma’am. Thank you for your trouble. Please don’t be too upset, either. His health is what’s important.]

Pan Lanfang looked at the message, and tears fell once more.

She put her phone away, went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water, and brought it to the bedroom door.

"Old man, have some water."

There was no sound from inside.

"Old man, open the door. Let’s talk."

Still no sound.

Pan Lanfang stood at the door, holding the glass of water, for a long time.

The water grew cold, but she didn’t leave.

Jiang Guoqiang sat on the edge of the bed, looking out the window.

The sky had already darkened, and the courtyard was pitch-black.

He remembered the way Lu Fan had stood in the courtyard shouting just now.

He had shouted so loudly; of course, Jiang Guoqiang had heard him.

He’d shouted "I’m sorry," shouted "Give me one chance," shouted "I’ll support this family."

He could tell it was sincere, not an act.

’But so what? Can sincerity make up for nineteen years of suffering?’

’Can it make the tears Yixia shed all those years meaningless?’

’Can it erase the days Sifan and Silu spent without a father?’

’It can’t.’

’That’s why he couldn’t forgive him.’

’Not for himself, but for Yixia, for the two children, for all the suffering they had endured over the years.’

But then he recalled all the things Lu Fan had done for their family.

Lu Fan was good to them.

He was good to *him*.

Jiang Guoqiang hated Lu Fan, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the man was bad.

He stood up, walked to the window, and pulled open the curtains.

The courtyard was empty. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

He stood there for a moment, then drew the curtains again and sat back down on the bed.

Pan Lanfang was still outside the door, holding the glass of now-ice-cold water.

She hadn’t left. She didn’t dare to leave.

Pan Lanfang was afraid Jiang Guoqiang would do something drastic, afraid he would get sick from anger.

She had known him for decades and had never seen him so furious.

He was the type to keep his troubles to himself, bottling everything up until he made himself sick.

Pan Lanfang was afraid that this time, bottling it up would lead to a real disaster.

"Old man, open the door. Let’s have a proper talk," Pan Lanfang called out again.

There was still no sound from inside. She sighed, placed the water by the door, and turned to go to the kitchen.

Night fell, and Qingshan Village grew quiet.

The occasional bark of a dog broke the silence, only to fade away again.

Jiang Guoqiang lay in bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Pan Lanfang was sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not daring to go into the bedroom, nor to go far.

She listened to the sounds from inside, hearing Jiang Guoqiang toss and turn several times. She heard him sigh, heard him sit up, then lie back down.

Pan Lanfang knew he couldn’t sleep. Neither could she.

Moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a bright patch on the floor.

Jiang Guoqiang stared at that patch of moonlight, his mind filled with Lu Fan’s face.

His face when he smiled, when he was serious, when he called him "Sir," when he bowed and said, "I’m sorry."

Jiang Guoqiang hated Lu Fan, but he was discovering that the man he hated and the man he knew were not the same person.

The man he hated was the bastard who had abandoned Yixia eighteen years ago.

The man he knew was Xiaolu, the one who helped him fix the irrigation channel, catch fish, sell fish, and run around for him at the hospital.

The two figures overlapped, and he couldn’t tell one from the other.

He rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head.

’I don’t want to think about it anymore.’

’He was too tired.’