RYEY -Chapter 294 The Zhao Family Turmoil

On the first day of the New Year, in a large mansion in the capital, Zhao Guodong glared at his younger brother, Zhao Guojian.

“Do you really have to fight me over this house?” he asked coldly.

“Second Brother, this house belongs to Elder Brother,” Zhao Guojian replied. “Now that he and his wife have a place at the school, he agreed to let me live here. My daughters are grown; they can’t share a room with their parents. Please understand.”

“But I also have two sons. Do you think it’s reasonable for the four of us to share one room?”

It turned out that all the Zhao family members had returned home. The patriarch was gravely ill and hospitalized, with only a few days left to live. The authorities had allocated three rooms in the large compound to the three brothers.

Zhao Guoliang, who had originally been a university professor, regained his position upon returning. The school, to compensate him and his wife, also provided a two-bedroom apartment.

Out of generosity, he offered the house that belonged to him to Zhao Guojian. The reasoning was simple: Zhao Guojian had two daughters, and as they had grown, they couldn’t reasonably share a room with their parents.

But Zhao Guodong was unhappy. “I’m your brother too, and I have two sons. Is it convenient for us to live in one room with our parents? As the eldest, you should either take the house back or split it in half.”

The room was only about ten square meters. Cutting it in half would barely leave it usable. And then, deciding who would live in the inner half and who in the outer half would spark yet another conflict.

Zhao Guoliang had no choice but to warn his two brothers: “If you keep arguing, I’ll just give the house back. There are plenty of people waiting for a place.”

Only then did the two brothers really become cautious. After discussing, they decided to partition the house vertically, creating two rooms—each four meters long and one and a half meters wide.

The original main door was divided into two smaller doors. From then on, the left room was for the second brother’s sons, and the right for the third brother’s daughters.

The housing issue was settled, but work assignments soon became a problem. For some reason, the two daughters of the third brother were admitted to a junior college, and their parents returned to their original jobs.

Meanwhile, the second brother’s two sons went to university, but their parents were assigned to the sanitation department as sanitation workers.

Clearly, Zhao Guodong had offended some influential figure and had been targeted. Yet at that time, he was already extremely grateful to have returned to his hometown—he never imagined such a thing could happen.

Without comparison, there is no pain. Among the three brothers, the eldest was the most successful, returning to the university as a professor. The second brother did reasonably well, resuming his original position as a minor team leader.

Only Zhao Guodong had to work at the sanitation department, broom in hand, sweeping streets—exactly like back in the old days. Thinking of this, he ran frantically to the hospital, wanting to ask the patriarch what had happened.

By Zhao Kun’s bedside were many people: Ye Jun, Cheng Liguo, Li Huan, and of course Cheng Qiao. After all, they were family. Even on the first day of the New Year, they had come to visit.

Upon seeing them, all of Zhao Guodong’s anger vanished instantly. He recognized Ye Jun and even Cheng Liguo, and rushed forward excitedly.

“Doctor Ye, you’re back too! Cheng Liguo, why are you here?”

“I’m the Zhao family’s son-in-law. Uncle Kun is my senior as well. I had to come see him,” Cheng Liguo replied.

“Liguo, thank you,” Zhao Kun weakly said.

Cheng Liguo was about to reply politely when the elder feebly called for Cheng Qiao. The first time, she didn’t hear clearly; the second, she did.

Cheng Qiao hurried over. Zhao Kun looked at the young girl, who strongly resembled Zhao Min, and gave a kind smile. He then tried to turn his head to look for his grandchildren, but they weren’t there.

It didn’t matter. He had originally hoped Cheng Qiao would watch over his grandchildren. As Ye Jun’s disciple, one word from her carried more weight than ten from him.

But he saw nothing, and his next words changed: “Live well. Your mother was exceptional, and you must be exceptional too.”

Cheng Qiao nodded, placing her fingers on Zhao Kun’s pulse. A minute later, she let go, her expression falling.

All vitality was gone. He had merely held on with his final strength to see his children and grandchildren. Among those present were only Zhao Guoliang and his wife, Zhao Xiaobao, and the hastily arriving Zhao Guodong. No one else had come.

Cheng Qiao felt a surge of anger but restrained herself. After all, the deceased was her distant-grandfather—he wasn’t closely related.

By the time Zhao Guojian and the others arrived, the patriarch had already passed away. Seeing the few people crying over him, Cheng Qiao turned and left the room.

Zhao Kun’s funeral was extremely simple, so simple that Cheng Qiao couldn’t even remember if she had contributed anything. Perhaps she did; perhaps not. She did contribute some money, but only as a small gesture.

However, Zhao Guodong’s two sons and Zhao Guojian’s two daughters became attached to her. Being distant cousins, they wanted to keep in contact, unite, and support one another.

Cheng Qiao was momentarily confused. Embarrassingly, in both her lives, she had never met these siblings. To her, they were strangers.

They had no emotional connection except for the faint blood tie. Yet even that faint connection made it difficult for Cheng Qiao to refuse.

Zhao Xiaobei sneered: “When you were wealthy, why didn’t you visit Huizhou to see Cheng Qiao, who was excellent both in looks and knowledge? Now that you’re down and out, you try to use family ties as moral leverage. How shameless.”

Zhao Ying blushed and stayed silent. Zhao Jing rolled her eyes at Zhao Xiaobei, speaking sharply in retaliation: “Don’t pretend as if you had ever gone to see her back then.”

Zhao Hui laughed. Zhao Guoliang indeed went to see her, even giving what little private money he had to Zhao Min—of course, this included some of Zhao Xiaobao and Zhao Xiaobei’s own savings.

Why? At the time, Zhao Xiaobao and his sister lived comfortably. They pitied their distant relative in Huizhou, Cheng Qiao. It was only a few coins—a small gesture of goodwill.

After this was said, Zhao Guodong and Zhao Guojian were left speechless. Back when Zhao Min was expelled from the Zhao family, they were actually happy. At that time, the Zhao family hadn’t yet split; what was wrong with an extra share of property?

But they didn’t know that a year after Zhao Min left, the patriarch decided to divide the family. The division left most of the property to Zhao Chen. Their father, Zhao Kun, was a compulsive gambler and didn’t deserve the Zhao family fortune.

This was the main reason why the six-thousand-square-meter courtyard wasn’t returned to the Zhao family. Zhao Chen had died. Zhao Hui and Zhao Guoliang, being somewhat successful, received houses and work assignments, while the others were largely overlooked.