Chapter 1

After my dad broke down in tears on his livestream, he ended up trending online.

In the video, he points to the braised pork belly and sweet-and-sour fish on the table, a whole spread that looks and smells amazing, choking up until he can't speak.

I made a whole table of food for my son and he won't touch a single bite. What on earth do kids these days even like to eat?

The live chat exploded, the whole screen full of people aching for him.

Don't cry, sir, if he won't eat it, I will! I'll bring my own bowl to your door.

This son is a real ingrate. He has no idea how good he's got it.

Seeing the numbers spike, my dad just went ahead and opened a livestream.

He wiped his eyes at the camera: As a single father, it wasn't easy raising my son all these years. I knew he was busy with work, so I came all the way from back home to look after him and cook for him, and yet that whole table of food, he wouldn't touch a single bite.

Netizens piled on, calling me ungrateful, and my job and personal details all got dug up.

Even at the company, there were whispers.

I stared at my inbox stuffed with curses, then glanced down at the plate piled with green vegetables, and couldn't help a bitter smile.

Dad, I haven't been able to eat any meat for a long time now.

Why, exactly? Have you really forgotten?

...

My phone buzzed like crazy, and I numbly wiped out all the messages.

But I couldn't shake those vicious words from my mind.

Eat something good, you piece of trash. An unfilial son like you deserves to get hit by a car and die the second he steps outside.

Quit acting like some city person. Your dad came all this way to cook for you and you won't eat a single bite.

Then, one after another, verification texts started popping up. My phone number had been doxxed online and used to sign up for countless websites.

Someone even sent me a screenshot of a body-donation form with my name already filled in.

Since you don't even have a heart, you might as well donate your organs.

I watched the short video looping in front of me, my dad wailing his heart out at the camera.

I'm a single father. I rode a slow green train for twenty hours to see my son, and he wouldn't so much as glance at the table full of food... Family, they say the big city nourishes people, but he looks down even on his own father now.

That one video pulled tens of millions of views in a single night.

My dad became the saintly father the whole internet ached for.

And I became the most wicked ingrate imaginable.

Looking at his self-moved face, my stomach churned violently.

I'd spent a full ten years working three jobs a day just to get away from him.

I'd even dipped into my savings to buy a small apartment, and hadn't dared put my own name on it.

Until last night, when I got home from working overtime late.

A shadow I couldn't escape even in my dreams suddenly appeared, taking my hand: Son, done with work?

My mind went off like a bomb.

I opened the door like a walking corpse, and only snapped back when the reek of meat filled the air.

"Dad... why are you here?"

He didn't say a word, just smiled and lifted a piece of meat, jabbing it toward my lips.

In that instant it dragged me back to that afternoon fifteen years ago.

On my tenth birthday, my mom used the money from selling vegetables to buy me a little black dog.

It was the only gift I got in my whole childhood.

She gently stroked my head: Mom can't be with you every day, so from now on let Blackie look after you, okay?

But she died in an accident the very next day, without even leaving a whole body behind.

From that day on, Blackie became the only thing my mom left in this world.

Dad took Mom's settlement money and gambled it all away at cards, day after day.

He couldn't stand the sight of me, and complained Blackie was a waste of food.

Then one day, the little life that carried all my longing was chopped up by his own hands and fed into my mouth.

"You've got no one but me in this world, and you still dare to talk back?"

"You love this dog, huh?"

...

"Eat up, son. I came all this way to cook for you, why won't you eat?"

My face went deathly white. I smacked the piece of meat away and clutched my chest, retching hard.

And that was the clip my dad put online.

That night I hid in my office with my head down and cried.

The next day, I was jolted awake by countless verification codes.