Lucky Golden Dragon in the 80s: My Dad? I Switched Him for a Better One

His tone was heavy, and he paused for a long time when recalling details, as if wrestling with his emotions.

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. He periodically lowered his head to wipe them away, and even his voice trembled.

Every single gesture was calculated, designed to be as authentic and believable as possible.

And it worked. The reporter was genuinely moved, taking notes diligently throughout the interview, their eyes filled with respect.

They went back and wrote the article overnight, giving it the tear-jerking headline: *A Husband’s Silent Pain*.

"Mr. Cao, your story is truly heartbreaking. But life must go on for those who are left behind. You have a daughter, don’t you? If it’s convenient, would it be possible for us to talk to her?"

The reporter wiped a tear from the corner of their eye, their expression deeply moved.

With that, the topic shifted directly to Cao Jiajia.

Cao Daqiang’s expression instantly tightened, and a muscle in his face twitched.

He lowered his head and pretended to blow his nose, deliberately drawing out the motion to hide his face with a tissue.

He concealed the flicker of unease, preventing the camera from capturing his change in expression.

"The poor girl is taking it very hard. I had her go out of town for a change of scenery, to clear her head with some friends."

After he spoke, his throat felt dry, and he swallowed hard.

"Oh, I see. What a coincidence."

The reporter smiled and didn’t press the issue.

The topic was dropped as quickly as it had been raised.

Seeing that the reporter didn’t probe any further, Cao Daqiang silently breathed a sigh of relief.

He picked up his teacup and took a sip to calm his nerves, but the back of his hand was still trembling slightly.

The interview went off without a hitch. The segment went live soon after, and within two days, it caused a sensation nationwide.

Cao Daqiang shot to fame overnight with his "devoted husband" image. Even the women serving food in the student cafeteria were talking about him.

Every time he went to pick up his food, people by the service window would point and whisper, their voices low but clearly audible.

Some praised his loyalty and devotion, while others called him a rare, genuinely good man.

Even a counselor from the neighboring college brought him up in a meeting, saying that young people today should learn from his sense of responsibility.

Everyone said Liu Yingzi had lived a worthy life, to be so cherished by her husband even after her death. She had truly married the right man.

This sentiment spread throughout the campus. Some students even started their own private group chat to discuss Cao Daqiang’s daily words and actions.

They dug up his old social media posts, analyzing his expressions of emotion one by one.

Someone claimed he had kept a diary throughout his wife’s illness, while another said he visited her grave every single month without fail.

These details were circulated again and again, gradually turning him into the symbol of a model husband.

But as the hype intensified, Ling Anxun began to feel that something was off.

He scrolled through the online reports and noticed that the timeline was a mess.

Some of the supposed acts of "long-term companionship" had occurred after the two were, in fact, living apart.

Even stranger, the sources of these "revelations" all traced back to a few unfamiliar accounts that had all sprung to life around the same time.

He sat in his study, staring at the screen, his brow furrowing ever deeper.

"Shanshan, has Cao Daqiang reached out to you recently?"

His tone was calm as he made the call, but the question was direct.

On the other end of the line, he could hear the slurping sound of Shanshan eating a fruit jelly.

Once she swallowed, she replied lazily, "Nope. What’s up?"

"Dad, why the sudden question?"

She sat up a little straighter and readjusted her earbuds.

’Did I slip up somewhere online?’ she wondered.

But she kept her expression relaxed and her tone playful, almost wheedling.

Shanshan blinked, feigning innocence.

She had assumed her dad was calling to reprimand her, but Ling Anxun’s expression was serious, not angry.

He spoke more slowly than usual, as if weighing every word.

It made her realize that her father might have spotted a flaw she had missed.

"He’s causing such a stir right now, but I thought they stopped living together a long time ago. Why is he acting like they were a deeply devoted couple?"

Ling Anxun set down his teacup, his gaze landing on a photo frame on his desk.

It was a photo taken many years ago in front of a hospital.

In it, Cao Daqiang and Liu Yingzi were standing close, but their eyes were looking in opposite directions.

The sense of distance between them was nothing like that of a loving couple.

"Well... I sort of gave things a little push."

Shanshan cleared her throat, as if to cover a sudden wave of awkwardness.

She got up, walked out onto the balcony, closed the door behind her, and lowered her voice.

Then she explained everything—how she had registered anonymous accounts, guided public opinion, and used alumni groups to spread the story.

She even admitted to intentionally releasing a photoshopped picture of them.

"So this ’good man’ persona he has now... you’re the one who helped him create it?"

Ling Anxun’s voice was quiet, but his tone had grown heavy.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping gently on the armrest.

’This isn’t just a simple prank,’ he thought. ’It’s a calculated manipulation of information.’

"Hey, you can’t give me all the credit. He started the fire himself; I just fanned the flames a little."

She held up her pinky finger, making a gesture for "just a little."

He couldn’t see it over the phone, of course, but she made the gesture out of habit.

A smug smile played on her lips, and her eyes curved into crescents.

Ling Anxun watched her on the screen, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

He’d always known his daughter was full of clever schemes, but he never imagined she could play public opinion like a game of chess.

With public sentiment on one side and a fabricated persona on the other, she had somehow managed to strike the perfect balance.

What frustrated him most was that she was toeing the legal line without ever crossing it.

"So what’s your endgame here?"

He sat up straight, his voice turning serious again.

’This isn’t about the media hype,’ he thought. ’It’s about the potential fallout.’

Once the truth comes out, the backlash will be immense.

"I just can’t stand to see him living so comfortably. Think of it as getting a little payback for my younger self." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Shanshan looked down and idly toyed with a knotted cord nearby, her voice losing some of its edge.

She paused after saying this, as if checking to make sure her own emotions were steady.

Then she lifted her head, smiled toward the window, and added, "I don’t owe him anything, and I’m not afraid of him."

Shanshan said it with complete candor.

She neither exaggerated her animosity nor concealed her motives.

All those days of being neglected, all the pain of being ignored—it was all just resurfacing in a different form.

She wasn’t trying to destroy anyone. She just wanted a certain person to understand that some things can’t be covered up forever.

"Don’t worry, Dad. If you want to see someone fall, you first have to put them on a pedestal. The higher they climb, the harder they’ll fall. That’s the fun part."

She leaned against the railing, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

The clouds were thin, and the sunlight was blinding.

She squinted, as if visualizing every move of the game yet to come.

Ling Anxun fell silent for a moment, then sighed.

It reminded him of cases he’d handled in his youth that involved similar tactics.

Building someone up only to tear them down was often a more powerful deterrent than a direct attack.

He knew the strategy was effective, but he also knew it was dangerous.

If it spun out of control, the price would be steep.

"Alright. Just make sure you know what you’re doing. If things really get out of hand, you call me immediately. Got it?"

He paused after saying this, waiting for her response.

He knew she wouldn’t ask for help easily, but he had to say it.

It was his bottom line, and her escape route.

He knew his daughter was strong-willed; trying to stop her would only make her go underground.

It was better to let her operate where he could see her. At least that way, he could provide a safety net.