Father! His own father! Passed away when William Clark was twenty-five years old. If William Clark could change Mr. Bolton's life, wouldn't that mean he could also change his own father's life?

This thought instantly filled William Clark's heart, swelling to the point of almost bursting.

“No! I have to go home! I have to see my father!” William Clark sprang to his feet, no longer caring whether tomorrow was the midterm exam. Nothing could excite him more than seeing his departed father appear before him once again.

Riding his bike, William Clark treated that old 26-inch straight-bar bicycle like a racing bike, speeding all the way. In less than twenty minutes, he had already arrived at the gate of his suburban home.

Two black-painted iron gates, flanked by walls nearly two meters high, with vigorous green climbing plants covering the surface. The broad leaves blanketed the walls, making it hard to tell whether they were walls or two stretches of green vine.

Looking at these two walls and two gates, William Clark couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart. How many years had it been since he last returned home? When his father was alive, he was always too busy with work to come back more than twice a year. But after his father passed away, he was filled with endless regret. Fortunately, heaven had given him another chance to rekindle the deep bond between father and son.

He walked forward and gently pushed the gate. The thick iron door opened silently, as light as ever. His skillful father had always taken meticulous care of everything at home. Even the iron gate at the entrance—he would regularly apply lubricant to the hinges to prevent that annoying creaking sound.

A long courtyard, with a red brick path over thirty meters long stretching from the gate all the way to the front door. On both sides of the path grew all kinds of vegetables: lush cabbages, runner beans hanging in clusters from bamboo poles, newly fruiting chili peppers, crisp cucumbers. The fresh fragrance was invigorating for William Clark, who had struggled to survive in the big city for years.

From the path, you could see two apricot trees on either side in front of the three-tile-roofed rooms. The trees were full of unripe green apricots, their branches thick with leaves, casting a large swath of shade. William Clark remembered how he used to love sitting in a lounge chair under the apricot trees reading. When he got tired, he would stand up and pick a few green apricots, no bigger than a thumb, and pop them into his mouth. The sour taste would fill his mouth instantly, but it seemed he hadn't tasted that kind of sourness in years. Even when he occasionally bought green apricots from roadside vendors, they never matched the flavor of those from these two trees.

On either side, against the wall, were two jujube trees. They had just finished flowering; jujubes bloom late and ripen late, but by the end of September, the bright red fruits hanging from the branches were a delightful sight. Even more so was picking a bowlful and munching on them, making William Clark's mouth water at the thought of biting into those crisp, delicious red dates.

Dappled shadows from the trees now fell across the three-tile-roofed rooms—white tiles, red bricks, old-fashioned blue-painted glass windows—everything just as real as ever.

Passing through the vegetable garden, William Clark's eyes lit up. On the west side of the path was a small fish pond. The pond was simply a pit over a meter deep dug in the vegetable patch. His father had lined it with bricks, then covered it with a layer of waterproof plastic, and finally sprinkled soil on top. Just like that, a simple fish pond was made.

With a splash, a red crucian carp flicked its tail on the water's surface and then dove back in.

Such a small courtyard could rival the gardens of modern villas. All of this was his father's handiwork—so warm, even with a touch of garden style. Now, to William Clark, it was simply breathtakingly beautiful.

“Yifei, why are you home so early today?” A man's magnetic baritone voice came from behind.

William Clark's body instantly froze, his heart surging with emotion. His neck, like an old bearing that hadn't been oiled in years, turned stiffly as he looked at the middle-aged man behind him, dressed in a white undershirt and gray trousers. His face was kind and gentle, with traces of hardship, but his posture was still upright.

William Clark felt a sudden sting in his nose, and tears began to stream uncontrollably from his eyes.

“Yifei! What's wrong?” His father's loving face immediately turned anxious as he grabbed William Clark's shoulder.

“Dad!” William Clark choked out, then suddenly stood up and hugged his father tightly—so tight, so real! He had never hugged his father like this before. Today, with this embrace, he wanted to repay his father's love and care. He was afraid this was just a dream, and that when he woke, his father would once again be gone.

Reborn, he could not allow any more regrets. All the regrets of the past, he would make up for in this life.

“Dad! In this lifetime, I will devote myself wholeheartedly to honoring you and making sure you live the best life possible!” William Clark roared in his heart.

Chapter 012: Making Up for His Parents' Regrets