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Zhu Wenbin came to my door with a kitchen knife, accusing me of tarnishing his reputation and causing him to be called an unfilial son.
As soon as he saw me, without a word, he raised the knife and chased me down half the village street. "If you dare come back, I'll cut you down, Old Man!" he shouted from behind.
The villagers all witnessed the scene; some tried to hold him back while others comforted me. Yet that kind of humiliation is something that can never be washed away.
At over fifty years old, being chased by my own son with a knife—who would still see me, Zhu Jingsi, as a person after this?
After returning to Jiangsu, I couldn't sleep for nights on end. My mind was filled with memories of Zhu Wenbin's sweet smile as a child, juxtaposed with the fierce face he wore while pursuing me with that knife.
I asked my partner, "Have we lived our lives in vain?"
My partner could only cry, unable to utter a word. The resentment in my heart boiled like scalding water, yet I had no outlet for it.
I sought out the village mediators; they all said my son was unfilial and that I could reclaim my house through legal means. But suing would be costly and exhausting. With Zhu Wenbin's temper, even if I won the case, would he willingly move out?
I told my partner, "This matter needs to come to an end."
My partner thought I meant to sever ties with my son and cried as she urged me, "No matter what, he's still your flesh and blood..."
I remained silent, staring intently at the moon outside the window. Yes, Zhu Wenbin is my biological son. It is precisely because of this that I cannot allow others to see me as a joke. This resolution must be made by me personally...
The thoughts swirling in my mind transformed me entirely.
Everyone says that I now have a sinister look in my eyes, as if possessed by a ghost. Perhaps there truly is a devil residing in my heart. Every night, as I lie in bed, images of Zhu Wenbin chasing me with a knife flash before my eyes. The whispers of the villagers echo in my ears: "Look, that's Old Zhu, the one his son drove out of the house." My self-esteem has been crushed under Zhu Wenbin's feet.
"Old Zhu, try to think positively," Old Wang from the construction site says, patting my shoulder. "Your child is ungrateful; you can sue him. The law will back you up." I force a bitter smile and shake my head. "Can the law make him respect me? Can it make him call me 'Dad'?"
Indeed, even if I were to reclaim the house through legal means, my father-son relationship with Zhu Wenbin would never return to what it once was. After a lifetime of effort, all I received in return was a knife and endless humiliation.
In February 2013, I finally made up my mind. "Dear, I'm going back for a visit," I told my wife. She looked at me in horror. "Have you lost your mind? Zhu Wenbin said that if you go back, he will..."
"There won't be any trouble," I interrupted her. "I just want to see how he's doing." My wife couldn't dissuade me, so the next day I packed lightly and left. Before returning, I bought a sharp fruit knife and hid it in my luggage.
As I sat on the long-distance bus, watching the scenery fly by outside the window, I felt calm inside. Throughout the journey, I recalled Zhu Wenbin's childhood—his innocent smile when he first learned to speak, his small hand tightly gripping mine on the way to school, his spirited appearance in a suit on his wedding day...
I wondered, if time could turn back, would I still give him the house on Nan Street? Perhaps all of this was my fault. I spoiled him too much; whatever he wanted from childhood to adulthood, I gave him. I thought this was love, but unknowingly, I raised a white-eyed wolf who only recognized money and not people.
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