Chapter 264: Demanding a Bride Price
Chapter 264: Demanding a Bride Price
When Song Zhenyu brought up her younger brother Song Feiyu for comparison, Tan Zhen scoffed coldly.
“He’s your younger brother. How could you, as his older sister, compare yourself to him? That’s not how an elder sibling should behave!”
Song Zhenyu glanced at Song Feiyu, who was sitting off to the side, completely absorbed in his phone game. “He’s twenty-two years old already. But in your eyes, I guess he’s still a three-year-old—he can’t be scolded, can’t be touched, can’t be blamed.”
Her voice grew colder. “And me? When I was three, you already treated me like I was twenty. Made me wash dishes, do chores, and whenever I didn’t meet your standards, you beat me.”
Tan Zhen snapped back without hesitation. “That was for your own good! I was teaching you responsibility. If I hadn’t raised you like that, would you have become so independent? Would you be doing as well as you are now?”
The word “independent” triggered something deep inside Song Zhenyu. Her expression dimmed, and her voice turned bitter. “Independence? That’s just your excuse to wash your hands of responsibility. Go ask around—what kind of parent makes their child walk thirty minutes to and from preschool alone every day?”
Tan Zhen flared up. “We were busy working! Your father and I had to earn money. If we didn’t work, how were we supposed to feed you? Live on air?!”
Song Zhenyu stared her down. “But I don’t remember you working. You spent most days chatting and playing cards with the neighbors in the village. Not once did I see you holding down a proper job.”
“You—you—you! Ungrateful brat, I’ll beat you to death!” Furious from being exposed, Tan Zhen raised her hand to strike again. But this time, Song Zhenyu didn’t even bother to shield herself. She just stood there, motionless.
Just as Tan Zhen was about to swing, Song Feiyu suddenly shouted, annoyed, “Can you all just shut up already? You’re driving me crazy. I’m trying to climb to Gold in Honor of Kings, and this is my promotion match!”
The moment he spoke, Tan Zhen’s entire demeanor shifted. She lowered her hand, turned to him with a doting smile, and softened her voice like a gentle mother. “Okay, okay, Mommy will be quiet. You focus on your game. Good luck getting to Gold.”
Then, she turned back to her daughter with a cold glare. “You too—quiet. Don’t say a word. Don’t disturb your brother. He’s a gaming prodigy. I saw on the news that game streamers can make millions every year. Once he hits Gold, he can start streaming. He’s going to make us a fortune.”
That stark contrast in attitude didn’t even surprise Song Zhenyu anymore. She’d grown numb to it. Sometimes, she even wondered if she was adopted. Otherwise, how could her parents treat Song Feiyu like a little prince and her like some servant girl from ancient times?
A few minutes passed in silence before Song Feiyu suddenly slammed his phone onto the floor. His face twisted in frustration as he pointed at both of them and yelled, “It’s all your fault! All that yelling ruined my game! I failed my promotion match!”
Tan Zhen’s face darkened too, but of course, she didn’t dare yell at him.
Instead, she spun toward Song Zhenyu and lashed out, “See what you did?! If I hadn’t seen your face, I wouldn’t have gotten angry and argued. Now look—your brother lost! Are you happy now? With his talent, he definitely would’ve won if you hadn’t distracted him!”
The sheer absurdity left Song Zhenyu frozen.
Promotion to Gold was that hard? And he dared call himself a gaming prodigy?
As far as she knew, Song Feiyu had been playing Honor of Kings for at least three years. And after all that, he still struggled to make it to Gold? She didn’t even know what to say.
When she was still a teacher, she played casually during her breaks—around a hundred matches—and easily reached Diamond. And she was considered average.
If anyone had real gaming talent, it was someone like Xu Muyan. Just recently, she’d told her she started playing and hit Mythic within a hundred matches, and by two hundred, she was already at 50 stars in Mythic tier. That was talent.
But of course, her mother wouldn’t know that. Tan Zhen was a rural woman who spent her days arguing and playing cards. She didn’t know the first thing about the game’s ranking system. Song Feiyu probably just made up some nonsense, and she believed it completely.
He even had the audacity to promise he’d earn millions by streaming games — just to justify gaming all day.
Song Zhenyu didn’t even feel like calling him out anymore. She just let it go and calmly said, “You’re not a kid anymore. You should really start thinking about doing something serious with your life.”
Hearing that, Song Feiyu didn’t say a word. He looked guilty, knowing full well that lying to their mother was easy—but trying to fool his sister? No chance.
Of course, Tan Zhen jumped in immediately. “Your brother is doing something serious. He’s going to make money from streaming. He’s more useful than you ever were.”
Song Zhenyu didn’t even bother arguing anymore. She chuckled bitterly. “Right, right. I’m useless. He’s the valuable one.”
“At least you know,” Tan Zhen snorted smugly, then quickly got to the real reason they’d asked her to come. “So, about the bride price. Have you prepared it yet? Go transfer the money to your brother so he can get married.”
Song Zhenyu’s expression darkened. “I already told you on the phone. I’m not giving thirty thousand for his bride price.”
“It’s not thirty thousand,” Song Feiyu chimed in casually. “It’s eighty thousand.”
“What?!” Song Zhenyu’s eyes widened in disbelief.
Tan Zhen said matter-of-factly, “We thought about it. As his sister, giving thirty thousand is just too little. Eighty thousand is more appropriate. That way we can get a bigger house, and your brother and his wife can live more comfortably.”
Song Zhenyu was speechless for a moment, stunned by the absurdity. Then she finally responded, “Whether it’s thirty or eighty, I don’t even have three thousand to give you. You seriously overestimate me.”
Tan Zhen squinted suspiciously. “You’re joking, right? You’ve been working for years. How could you not even have a few thousand?”
That hit a nerve. Song Zhenyu’s voice turned cold. “I used to teach at a private school. The monthly salary was around eight thousand, sometimes ten if I was lucky. Every month, I sent three thousand to my brother, and five thousand to you.”
“During holidays, I’d give you both red envelopes—at least five hundred each time. Every year, you’d want new phones, even when the old ones weren’t even a year old. I paid for those too.”
“I always bought the cheapest clothes, rented the cheapest places. The phone I use? It’s one you discarded. And during breaks, I never dared travel or relax. I just stayed home. Because traveling costs money.”
“I’ve lived in Qingling for years, but I’ve never made real friends. Not because I didn’t want to—but because I was afraid one of them might ask me to treat them to a meal, and I wouldn’t have the money. Every time I got sick, whether it was a cold or a fever, I toughed it out. I didn’t even go to the hospital.”
She took a deep breath, eyes filled with tears now. “If you do the math, from the day I started working until now, I’ve never had more than ten thousand in my account at any time. So how could I possibly give you eighty thousand?”
“But of course… you’ve never once thought about any of that. All you know is how to ask for money. In your eyes, I’m not a daughter. I’m not even a sister. I’m just your personal ATM, a tool to keep your lives running.”
The resentment she had buried for so long finally erupted. The more she spoke, the more overwhelmed she became. Her voice cracked with emotion as tears streamed freely down her cheeks, soaking both sides of her pale face.