The obedient girl glances up, and the tyrannical tycoon kneels down to pamper her.

The doctor said the foot and hand were fractured.

No wonder it hurt so much.

I really need to be hospitalized now. I hope Dad won't tell anyone else. I don't need anyone to visit me.

He lost the fight and ended up in the hospital; he lost face big time.

As for those who hit me, I can take revenge myself; I don't need my parents to get involved.

"I can't bully the weak, you handle yours, I'll handle mine." My dad actually agreed.

However, there was one point I disagreed with.

"You can't hide it from your mother."

"Dad, are you unable to hide it or are you afraid to hide it?" My dad is notoriously timid at home. My mom isn't fierce, but if she frowns with worry and a few tears well up in her eyes, my dad will kneel down without saying a word.

I'm a little better off than my dad.

I won't kneel. I'll say sorry and write another self-criticism.

"You dare to hide it?" My dad's question made me chicken out, and I didn't dare.

My leg had just been put in a cast and wasn't even hanging in mid-air when my mom arrived with her bag. Her eyes immediately turned red when she saw me.

My God! I want to kneel down too!

"Mom! It doesn't hurt, I'm fine! I'm all right, don't be sad!" I wanted to jump out of bed and hug my mom right away.

I learned it from my dad.

My mom just needs a hug from my dad to feel better.

However, I couldn't get out of bed, so my mom came over and hugged me. She then asked me what happened to my injury, and I had to try my best to make her laugh.

My dad just sneered from the side!

damned!

My mom wants to stay and take care of me, and my dad says he'll come, but I don't want to.

"Whether you want to stay or not isn't up to you. I'm your father." My dad forced me to stay, and I was furious. I glared at him until he went out to answer a phone call.

My mom asked me why I didn't want my dad to take care of me at the hospital?

"inconvenient."

"It's inconvenient when Mom is around, for example, what if you need to go to the toilet?"

I remained silent.

"We need to ask someone to add a bed, it's too crowded."

"Then you can sleep with your dad."

"No!" I absolutely refused. When I was little, I always crawled to sleep with my parents, but my dad would always carry me back to my own room.

I remember when I was little, I climbed onto my dad's stomach to sleep, and he just threw me off! Thrown off!

"Pfft! Hahahaha..." My mom suddenly laughed.

I don't know why.

Do you know why Dad always takes you away?

"I'm blocking your way, aren't I?"

"No." My mom kept laughing, as if she had really remembered something funny.

"Because you don't sleep well, your butt is facing your dad, so you either fart or poop."

I:"……"

“Your dad just can’t get you to sleep properly. You always sleep facing your mom and with your back to your dad. Sometimes you kick your toes around, kicking your dad’s eyes and nose, and you even put your toes in his mouth. He gets angry and bites you, and you start wailing and crying, hugging my neck and crying so hard you can’t catch your breath. To comfort you, your mom has to reach out and hit your dad.”

“You only stop crying when Mom hits Dad.”

"Is that so?" I don't really remember much about my childhood, but I vaguely remember my dad always bullying him.

"Guess why Dad threw you off him again?"

I was terrified.

isn't it?

What terrible thing have I done this time?

"Your formula is made by your dad, and your diapers are changed by your dad. You are also very active and like to reach out and pull on your pants. The first time was when you loosened your diaper and peed on your dad's stomach while you were sleeping on his stomach."

Why do I have to hear this?!

"When you were little, your dad would only spank you. But when you got a little older, you still had this bad habit: when you slept with your dad's arm in your arms, you would pee all over his arm..."

I'm cracked.

So it turns out I was the one who wronged my dad first.

“He just threw you down there, and the carpets in the house are very thick. Also, all the sharp corners of the tables and things were covered with foam padding strips by your father on the day you turned one month old.”

“Not only at home, but also in Dad’s office and your uncle’s office, none of them escaped it. You’ve hardly ever been sick in your life, except for the time you fell when you were nine. You’ve never been injured because Dad has been protecting you from behind most of the time.”

"Dad loves you very much."

My mom apologized to me.

Two grown men talking about love? Aren't they ashamed?

When Dad came back after making the phone call, there was not only an extra bed in the ward, but also an extra desk.

Help! What's the difference between this and going to jail?

I can only pray that I recover quickly and go back to school.

The first thing I did when I got back to school was to get revenge. I definitely wouldn't fight them alone. I teamed up with a few brothers, put sacks over them, dragged them into an alley, and gave them a good beating.

I played by myself.

I overheard my dad talking to their parents on the phone. He said if they dared to cause trouble, he would retaliate tenfold or a hundredfold.

So, as long as I don't kill anyone, we'll be fine.

After this incident, his position as the school bully was firmly established.

My dad taught me from a young age that you shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket, and I think that saying is somewhat applicable to school as well, for example, I'm not just a school bully.

For students, the most important thing is still studying.

Because my maternal grandparents were university professors, and my aunt was the editor-in-chief of a publishing house, our home provided trilingual education. Yes, my dad was a poor student, but he was fluent in foreign languages, and my mom was a translator.

I confidently chose IB.

After a year of study, the final results proved that my confidence was the right thing to do.

When it came time for the parent-teacher conference, I decided to invite my dad along so he would know what an outstanding son he was—not just a school bully, but also a top student.

With his clean, freshly washed hair, black zip-up jacket, light black cargo jeans, and distressed leather low-top sneakers, my dad looked like a cool and handsome college student.

"Is it really necessary?" I looked down at my outfit. No, I need to change into something else. I can't let my dad outshine me.

After changing my clothes, I stood next to my dad, and my mom praised us for being so handsome.

My dad's lips were practically curled up to the sky.

He's a nearly fifty-year-old, repressed, and lecherous man who spends all his time working out and trying to seduce my mom.

That makes sense, though. My dad is so much older than my mom, how could he not put more effort into his appearance to walk alongside my beautiful mother?

As our family of three walked through the school, we were greeted by a chorus of "Wow!"s.

My back straightened up again and again.

The teacher asked my parents to share their parenting experiences.

My dad said, "Good genes."

Fortunately, my mom smoothed things over; otherwise, my dad's words would have been too high-profile and aroused jealousy. You can't just say the truth like that.

"Brother Yue, no wonder you look androgynous, both handsome and beautiful."

I smiled and said, "Good genes."

High school is a two-year program, but unfortunately my dad couldn't pull it off again, and I went abroad.

Seventeen.

At first, I was very excited about studying abroad away from my parents, and I strongly objected to my parents' idea of ​​me taking a chef with me.

I want to be self-reliant.

Two weeks later, I called my mom, and my dad answered.

"Dad, can the chef still be sent over?" I suddenly felt a little sorry for myself.

The next day, not only did the chef arrive, but my parents also came.

The first meal of my hometown cuisine abroad was cooked by my dad.

In the following years, whenever my dad went abroad on business, he would stop by to visit me, even if we lived in different parts of the country, and the flight would take more than ten hours.

Furthermore, Dad always gives the chef a day off whenever he comes.

My dad's reason was: "Your mom misses you, so I came to see you."

Of course my mom misses me; she calls me twice a week.

"Oh," I replied, saying while eating, "I miss your dad too."

what!

That's so cheesy!

I got goosebumps all over. I looked up and found my dad staring straight at me. He chuckled softly and reached out to pat my head.

Hey!

I blushed.

The key point is that Dad made a video call to Mom at some point, and Mom not only blushed when she saw him, but also said it out loud!

Damn you, Dad! I'll never forgive you!