How You Can Sue Me for My Crimes in Dreams

It was a scene of Grandpa kneeling before a few thugs, men forty or fifty years younger than him.

The thugs were smirking and joking around, while Grandpa, looking uneasy, forced a smile. He held out the potatoes he had grown, but after they were thrown aside, he took out the money he’d earned from collecting bottles.

I was stunned. My mind went completely blank. I wanted to step forward, but my legs wouldn’t obey. I wanted to leave, but my eyes were glued to the scene.

It wasn’t until all the thugs had left and Grandpa patted my back that I snapped out of it.

Grandpa didn’t say anything, and neither did I.

By some unspoken agreement, we never brought it up, pretending everything was just as it had always been.

After that, though, I wasn’t beaten up for a long time.

Not until they had run out of money and came back for more.

But by then, I was used to it, and besides…

My school acceptance letter had arrived.

…

…

I still remember it.

The sight of all our neighbors looking at my Grandpa with faces full of envy.

It might sound ridiculous.

I had only been accepted into a Vocational School, but around here, that was a big deal. No one said a word, even though I’d chosen a major nobody thought much of.

That evening, our usually stingy neighbors came over bearing gifts.

Words completely opposite to what I’d overheard them say before came pouring out of their mouths, as if they wanted to praise me to the heavens.

But Grandpa was so happy.

Come to think of it.

That night, he did something unprecedented—he went out and bought some tofu and a jin of bulk baijiu, the unbottled white liquor.

Grandpa smiled and said that I would have a bright future now.

I said I’d let him live a life of comfort in the future.

That night, I had my first-ever drink. I clinked glasses with Grandpa and downed it in one go.

Until the next morning…

Grandpa died.

It wasn’t because of the alcohol.

Nor was it an illness.

He died naturally, his time simply having run out.

It seemed like Grandpa had been holding on by sheer willpower.

That willpower was what kept him going.

It was what allowed him to grovel and beg before those thugs.

And once that willpower was gone, his spirit went with it.

Perhaps…

Years ago, during the accident with Grandma, there had been no miracle for Grandpa.

He was probably supposed to die in that car crash too, but had just been holding on until now.

And so, Grandpa died.

“It’s laughable, really.”

“From the time my father was born, Grandpa hoped he would make something of himself. He worked hard, toiled away, and always said that as long as you worked hard, you’d make money, live a good life, and have something to look forward to.”

“A pity that’s what he was still saying right up until the day he died.”

“But Grandpa also used to say…”

“You always have to look forward.”

He talked about enjoying life for a lifetime, and he worked hard for a lifetime.

But he never lived a single good day before he died.

The same question popped into my head again.

‘Is it my fault?’

‘If only I’d been a little older… If only I’d been more successful… If only I could have let Grandpa eat a few more white-flour buns…’

I didn’t know if it was my fault.

It probably was.

So, I had to find a way to never make that kind of mistake again.

And so, I went to the Vocational School.

…

…

The major-specific courses at the Vocational School were difficult.

In the 80s, most vocational majors were related to science and engineering, like electronics.

But I set my sights on an extremely niche, brand-new major.

Chef!

The culinary arts program, that is.

During my years at the Vocational School, I progressed rapidly.

I worked like my life depended on it to improve myself.

I was ingratiating, I was smooth, and my mouth was always full of false, flowery flattery.

In the end, I was assigned to a position I’d wanted.

It was a factory.

Thanks to my smooth-talking, my certification, and my diploma, it wasn’t long before I became the sous chef.

And because of my excellent cooking, all the leaders—whether from our factory or others—loved my food.

After that, whether it was for entertaining higher-ups, negotiating partnerships, or even just for their casual take-home meals, I was the one personally cooking for them on the side.

Later, I quit that so-called ‘iron rice bowl’.

I had built a wide network. I told the leaders that to repay their kindness, they could eat at my place for free. I would treat them and personally cook their favorite meals. As a result, my restaurant expanded rapidly.

The speed was almost unimaginable!

In just six short years after graduation, by the mid-90s, I had become a big boss with a net worth that soared to several hundred thousand!

After 1995, my business reached new heights, and my assets surpassed five million!

I thought.

‘Perhaps I’ve finally made something of myself.’

‘I’ve achieved what Grandpa always talked about.’

‘But I still don’t know…’

‘Why did Grandpa have to die?’

‘Why don’t I have parents? Why did I have to go through all that?’

‘Was it because of the driver? It seems like even without the driver, Grandpa and Grandma would have died some other way—maybe from an infection from rummaging through trash, or maybe they would have starved to death.’

‘Or should I blame my mother, the ‘educated youth’ who went back home after the college entrance exams?’

‘I can’t find a reason for all the wrongs. I don’t understand.’

‘Even after becoming someone others admire, I still don’t understand.’

‘In the end… who was wrong?’

I couldn’t figure out the answer to that question.

And during that time, I also worked up the courage to go back and find the girl I’d liked as a child.

…

…

There was a girl I liked.

Who was this girl?

How beautiful was she?

I can’t describe it, I really can’t. If I had to try… she was like a wisp of a white cloud, a gentle breeze that stirred my heartstrings.

Her voice was sweet, like a piece of candy melting in my heart, and when she spoke, it made me nervous and stumble over my words.

Whenever I passed by her house, my instincts would always act faster than my mind, my eyes unconsciously turning in the direction of her home.