Earlier this year, they had rebuilt a three-story house in the depths of the village, which had already become the envy of everyone.
My mom said we should keep a low profile, but my dad waved his hand and said, "What's the big deal? We've earned our money fair and square. What's wrong with living more comfortably?"
That spelled disaster, and one of the culprits was my dad's close friend.
I looked at my younger brother and sister who were doing homework, feeling a surge of bitterness in my heart. I had to save them.
I remembered that night when my dad went to open the door to greet his friend and client. My mom had prepared a feast.
After a few rounds of drinking, they suggested seeing the new jewelry. My parents went downstairs to get the goods, telling me to watch my brother and sister doing their homework.
Not long after, the conversation and the sound of dice abruptly stopped downstairs, followed by a thud.
I was curious and stealthily walked to the stairs. In an instant, my mind was blown, and I covered my mouth tightly.
My dad collapsed on the ground, with a long steel nail stuck in the back of his head, while my mom stared weakly with her eyes wide open.