CHAPTER 42: CHAPTER 42: HAS SISTER-IN-LAW ABANDONED HIM?

Song Tingfan’s third uncle lived on a rather remote street in town, and his house wasn’t as good as Song Tingfan’s, and it was smaller.

This house was also paid for with silver coin by Song Tingfan’s parents, just like Song An’s house.

But it treated Song Tingfan far worse than Song An’s house did.

Once in a dream, Song Tingfan’s third uncle’s house appeared, wanting to seize Song Tingfan’s house under the pretext of support.

She didn’t know how it was eventually resolved.

Thinking of this, Lin Qiao sighed inwardly, leaving the mess for her.

Why not leave the silver coin to her.

Song Tingfan saw her staring at the doorway, motionless, looking a bit unsettled.

"Sister-in-law, what’s wrong with you?"

"Sister-in-law?"

He called twice before Lin Qiao came to her senses and responded with a "Hmm."

"Sister-in-law, what’s wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking of Grandpa and Grandma."

Ahem, Lin Qiao spoke these words without a hint of blush or quickened heartbeat.

Song Tingfan’s eyes curved, a bit happy, "I was thinking of Grandpa and Grandma too."

"We’ll see them soon." Lin Qiao smiled warmly.

Before knocking on the door, Song Tingfan glanced at the basket to ensure the meat wasn’t visible, then knocked, "Grandma, Grandpa."

Soon, an angry woman’s voice rang out from inside, "You little rascal! Don’t come in, I don’t want to die yet, old woman isn’t here, go find her next door."

"Bad luck thing!"

In Song’s second family, only Song Tingfan was left alive, and although some said he had great fortune, more thought he was a curse, a plague.

Lin Qiao thought so as well.

Such words, when said about a twelve-year-old who lost his family, were truly hurtful, and Lin Qiao frowned.

This instinctive frown even she did not notice.

And Song Tingfan’s expression didn’t change much, clearly used to it, but his grip on the basket tightened.

The so-called next door was separated by a brick wall; it was more like a thatched hut than a room.

It was supposedly a place to store firewood in previous years.

Not yet close, the sound of the old man’s incessant coughing could be heard, as if he were about to cough his lungs out, and Lin Qiao felt that things were not going well.

At this time, angry shouting came again from the next room, "Old you won’t die, cough cough cough, why haven’t you coughed yourself to death, it’s annoying to listen to, cough farther away."

Suddenly, the coughing sound weakened, somewhat suppressed.

Lin Qiao saw the boy’s eyes turn red with anger, and she quickly reached out to hold him, "Uncle, don’t listen, bad people will get their comeuppance."

Song Tingfan pursed his lips, lowered his head, and whispered, "Sister-in-law, will bad people really get their comeuppance?"

He had done nothing, nor had his parents or brother.

Why was he the only one left.

This sentence made Lin Qiao feel a bit heartbroken, she nodded seriously, "They will, it’s just a matter of time."

Song Tingfan said nothing, obviously not believing.

Actually, Lin Qiao didn’t believe it either, there was too much injustice in the world.

But she had to instill good ideas in the antagonist.

Looking inside from outside the door, she saw the old man lying in a pile of dry straw, the old woman beside him helping to ease his coughing by patting his chest.

At a glance, the old man was so thin he was practically skin and bones, his eye sockets sunken, his entire face devoid of color, even a bit dark.

Lin Qiao, even as an outsider, found it hard to watch. She glanced sideways at Song Tingfan, he was deathly pale.

She instinctively clenched tighter, interlocking their fingers, afraid he might get so angry he’d go next door to beat someone to death.

Now this antagonist is simple but has a fierce "protective" streak.

Feeling the softness in his palm, Song Tingfan paused, then lowered his head, fingers interlocked, white and yellow alternating.

His fingers shrank a little, but he didn’t pull away, his chaotic heart seemed to calm a bit.

It wasn’t as painful anymore.

Song Tingfan’s grandfather, Song Rong, beamed with joy when he saw them, the skin-on-bones face wrinkled, "Cough cough cough... Niu Niu."

Song Qin turned to look over, her wrinkled eyes brightened with surprise, "Niu Niu."

Song Tingfan quickly ran over, affectionately calling, "Grandpa, Grandma."

Then he closely examined Song Rong, mumbling, "Grandpa, you’re sick."

"Grandpa’s not sick, Niu Niu don’t worry."

Song Rong raised his hand to touch his head, gaze lingering on his face, wanting to see a bit longer.

Niu Niu had grown a little taller, also a bit sturdier.

Song Tingfan held his hand that couldn’t stop trembling, seemed to be just bones, without any flesh, his nose tingled, "Grandpa, you’re lying to me, you are sick."

Song Qin watched from the side, her eyes turned red, Lin Qiao gently patted her, softly asked, "Grandma, have you seen a doctor?"