Standing under the eaves of a dilapidated low building, Jiang Zhihao felt as though he was part of a dream, with the setting sun casting its waning shadows all around him.

In the dream, he had lived a whole life, only discovering he had terminal stomach cancer when he turned eighty.

At the moment of death, he saw himself lying on the hospital bed, and his descendants crying bitterly. Then, time started to retract, until he found himself standing in front of this door again.

Jiang Zhihao was certain that it was not a dream. Dreams do not engrave with this clarity, every minute and second that has passed he could remember vividly.

He was certain: he had been reborn.

His gaze slowly turned to the door panel. Jiang Zhihao, his hand trembling slightly, turned the key.

The old door creaked with an unpleasant sound. As the door opened, he first saw his daughter, Lingling, sitting on the ground playing with a mostly broken plastic train.

Lingling had just turned four this year, she was much more petite and frail compared to her peers.

The moment he saw his daughter, tears instantly welled up in Jiang Zhihao’s eyes.

He never thought that one day, he would see his daughter again.

The fire from decades ago that took his wife and daughter was the most painful moment of his life. Regardless of how vigorous his efforts were afterwards, regardless of how much money he earned, nothing could heal the pain in his heart.

"Daddy!"

Upon seeing Jiang Zhihao return, Lingling immediately lit up and quickly scrambled off the ground to embrace his leg, "You're back!"

Jiang Zhihao finally saw her frail frame, as well as the worn-out clothing she must have scavenged off from someone else.

Her complexion, which should have been rosy, was pale. To put it nicely, she was fair-skinned, but bluntly put, she was malnourished due to hunger.

Jiang Zhihao crouched down, holding the little girl tightly in his arms.

Tears streamed down his face. This man who had worked miracles in business in the future clung to his daughter, whispering, "I'm sorry...I am sorry..."

Lingling didn't know that her father had lived an entire life already. She reached out a hand, gently patting Jiang Zhihao's back, her childish voice echoing in the room, "Daddy, don't cry, Lingling loves you."

Hearing her voice, Jiang Zhihao's tears flowed even faster.

"Daddy, I don't want to go to school. Can you stop arguing with mommy?" Lingling said, her head tucked against Jiang Zhihao's.

The innocence of a child's words, they led Jiang Zhihao to quickly recall the sentence that had stuck with him all his life.

In those days, he was an irresponsible person who wasted his time drinking and gambling. If he lost everything, he would demand money from his wife. If no money was available, he would fly into a drunken rage and destroy things.

The day before the big fire, his wife Zhong Jiawei wanted to send their child to kindergarten, but Jiang Zhihao felt it was a total waste of money. He hadn't attended kindergarten and didn't he turn out fine?

Due to this, the couple had a big argument.

Though Lingling was only four years old, she was much more understanding than her peers.

She had always envied other kids who could go to kindergarten, but she also knew, her parents argued because of her schooling.

Therefore, she suppressed her little desire.

For a four-year-old child, to be able to do so was quite remarkable.

Listening to his daughter's warm childish voice, Jiang Zhihao wiped away his tears, picking up his daughter, "Daddy will work hard to earn money. I'll take you to kindergarten tomorrow, is that okay?"

"Really?" Lingling's eyes lit up, but then remembering something, her little face scrunched, "But…we don't have the money. I don't want mommy and daddy to argue."

"Don't worry, mom and dad won't quarrel anymore," Jiang Zhihao assured earnestly.

Lingling tilted her little head to look at him. After a few seconds, she planted a resounding kiss on his face and said cheerfully, "Then daddy is a good boy!"

At that moment, the room door was pushed open. Jiang Zhihao turned around, and when he saw the person who had come in, he involuntarily shuddered.

At the entrance stood a woman with her long hair draped over her shoulders. She was dressed in a professional attire, making her appear very sharp. Both her looks and figure were excellent, especially her pair of eyes and her imposing nose, which gave a distinctive three-dimensional quality to her face.

However, her expression was somewhat cold, slightly marring her beauty.

This woman was Jiang Zhihao's wife, Zhong Jiawei, the one who had intentionally set their house on fire.

But Jiang Zhihao never resented Zhong Jiawei, as she too, had perished in the fire.

With their bodies blackened by the flames, the mother and daughter lay together, their image etched into Jiang Zhihao's memory as the most painful thing he'd ever had to witness.

Jiang Zhihao often wondered about the depths of hatred and despair that would lead her to choose such a way to end her life.

In Zhong Jiawei's hand was a bag, from which wafted an enticing aroma.

Jiang Zhihao knew that it contained the roast duck that their daughter had been longing to have.

Priced at eighty-eight per duck, their daughter had only eaten it once before.

In Zhong Jiawei's pocket, there was a lighter she had just bought. She had prepared the gasoline at noon and stored it in the kitchen cabinet.

Catching the scent, Lingling immediately squirmed out of Jiang Zhihao's embrace and jumped down excitedly. She ran up to Zhong Jiawei, eagerly tugging at the plastic bag, asking, "Mom, what's this? What's this?"

"Roast duck, didn't you always want to have it?" Zhong Jiawei showed a smile that she only reserved for her daughter, although it seemed rather forced.

"Daddy, it's roasted duck!" Lingling exclaimed cheerfully, looking back.

Jiang Zhihao walked over at a steady pace, stopping in front of Zhong Jiawei, scrutinizing his vibrant wife once again. An urge swelled within him to pull his wife into his arms, to tell her how much he missed her.

Yet the palpable disgust emanating from Zhong Jiawei's gaze seasoned Jiang Zhihao's heart with a bitter aftertaste.

They had started sleeping in separate rooms long ago, with Jiang Zhihao returning each night in an inebriated stupor, reeking of alcohol, often prone to violent outbursts in his drunkenness. Zhong Jiawei didn’t want such commotion disturbing their child.

Handing Lingling the roasted duck, her joy was contagious as she trilled, "Mommy, you’ve worked hard!"

Seeing the child’s adorableness and understanding heart warmed Zhong Jiawei, but, at the same time, pondering the impending action she had to take felt like a knife in her heart.

While setting the roast onto the table, Lingling paused suddenly, a thought striking her. She turned to her mother, “Mommy, daddy said he would take me to kindergarten tomorrow!”

Zhong Jiawei shot Jiang Zhihao a cold glance, sneering, “Do you find deceiving a child amusing?”

Every time they argued about money, he would promise something for tomorrow. Yet, when tomorrow arrived, he would back out.

Not only was she deceived repeatedly, but their daughter had been let down numerous times too. The countless promises of a shared trip to the amusement park remained unfulfilled.

In Zhong Jiawei’s heart, not a shred of trust was left for her husband. She had endured too much disappointment which had led her to despair.

Jiang Zhihao made no attempt to defend himself. Stiffly changing the subject, he offered, “Let's have porridge tonight. Your stomach hasn't been well. I’ll let the rice simmer longer until it softens, so it may take a bit more time.”