From the age of five, after the day her father told her she would never amount to anything, Sophia's heart hardened.
That single sentence—so cold, so merciless—became the spark that ignited her determination. From then on, her one value in life was clear: "shine as soon as possible."
She no longer saw her father as a parent. She saw him as the enemy of her life.
And so, as she now stood on stage before one hundred thousand people in the packed stadium, with countless cameras aimed at her, she declared calmly:
"The enemy of my life has always been my father."
---
Many years earlier, scholars from a leading Western research institute had puzzled over her case. How, in a time of relative peace and social stability, could a young girl rise to such astonishing heights?
She seemed tireless, fearless—breaking through one barrier after another, conquering industries and art forms like she was born for them.
But there was a secret. Her first enemy, her first rival, the first force that pushed her forward—was not society, nor poverty, nor peers.
It was her father.
No insects flew, no ocean depths could stop her. Wherever she stood, she carried within her a belief stronger than iron: she would take off, no matter what.
That was her terrifying strength.
---
The screen on stage flickered, pulling the audience back fourteen years.
Charles, the cameraman who had once seen her as a child, stood up abruptly, rubbing his eyes. He stared at the young Sophia on the screen, unable to believe that this tiny, innocent fairy had become the peerless beauty now standing before him.
She had changed so much.
"Is this really possible?" Charles whispered to himself. "Can a child without any formal education rise like this?"
He thought back to her father and scoffed. "Education? What education? Look at Victor. What education could come from a man like that?"
But then his tone shifted, his eyes fixed on Sophia.
"You… you are the real chosen one. No, more than that. You are a hundred times stronger than the pampered rich kids who were given everything. You truly did it—you rose with the sun and the moon."
Charles's words weren't flattery. He meant every syllable.
What he felt radiating from Sophia was an aura beyond human explanation. Her worldview, her determination, her relentless discipline—together they had forged a personality as sharp as diamond. Her talent was the bridge that carried those values into reality.
And so, there could only ever be one Sophia in the world.
---
Under the stage, the gym roared with wild chants from her fans.
"This is the goddess! She had no good education, no good father, yet she rose against the heavens and stunned the world!"
"She's the most extraordinary person I've ever seen. No one can equal her, no one can imitate her!"
"Imagine how her father must feel, watching his brilliant daughter on TV. What does he think now?"
---
But not everyone was so caught up in passion.
At the Baijia Forum, where a special live broadcast program was being produced, several historians sat in silence. They had been tasked with analyzing Sophia's life story for a historical family program.
One of them, Professor Carter, finally spoke.
"I'm curious," he said slowly. "In that era, when so many in the slums had no education at all, how could such a remarkable figure like Sophia emerge? How could she have developed such strength, such ability, such character?"
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Does this truly have nothing to do with her father, Victor?"
---
The comment barrage online immediately exploded with protests.
"Professor, please! Victor was nothing but an empty shell!"
"All he gave Sophia was his face. That's it."
"Yeah, how can a father who said such cruel things to his daughter deserve any credit?"
But Carter remained silent, unmoved by the noise.
Because he could not forget something.
He could not forget the memory of Victor calmly telling his daughter, "You must shine as soon as possible."
He could not forget how, under the torture of his own illness, Victor had still managed to notice the danger when three boys came to lure Sophia out to play.
---
"Replay the footage of those three boys," Professor Carter instructed his assistant.
The screen flickered, jumping back again to the past.
The three children stood at Sophia's door, smiling innocently. To the untrained eye, they looked like harmless playmates.
But as the camera zoomed in, subtle details became visible.
One boy kept lowering his head, unable to hide his panic. Fear flickered in his eyes.
Another boy stared at Sophia with a greedy, predatory look. His eyes gleamed with something dark.
The third boy laughed, but it was not the laugh of innocence—it was the laugh of a child with ill intent.
To most, these signs would have gone unnoticed. But not to Victor.
At the time, his head wrapped in a towel to dull the pain of his illness, he had watched carefully.
On the surface, he seemed indifferent. But in truth, his soul was bound to his daughter's safety.
When he saw those signs, his eyes hardened. A cold light flashed there. For Sophia's sake, he did not explode in violence, but he expelled the boys firmly, leaving no room for doubt.
The camera zoomed in on his gaze. It was not the gaze of an ordinary man. It was the fierce, hawk-like stare of someone ready to strike.
And under his breath, almost inaudible, he muttered:
"Try it, and you'll die."
---
"Hiss!"
Professor Carter drew in a sharp breath. He pushed the controls away and stopped the replay entirely.
He turned toward his colleagues, his expression grave.
"Keep watching this so-called Happy Family show," he said. "Because I am convinced now—behind Sophia, there must be a great father."
His assistant stared at him in shock. "Professor… how can that be?"
Another historian, Professor Tian, frowned. "Old Carter, are you confused?"
But Carter only shook his head, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curled upward, his gaze far away, as though seeing into the past.
He saw a man, beaten down by poverty, by illness, by life itself. A man who had lost everything.
And yet—he had never given up on protecting his child.
He had taught her, not through books or classrooms, but through a relentless, unconventional kind of education. One born of suffering, of survival, of stubborn love.
Carter's voice was quiet, but steady.
"No matter how poor he was, no matter how hopeless, he never abandoned her. He gave her a different kind of education, a hidden strength that others could never see. And because of it, Sophia became who she is."
---
The other professors shifted uncomfortably.
Carter continued, almost to himself:
"If I am right, then Victor is not a failure. He is a father of rare greatness."
Well-intentioned yet misunderstood. Patient yet humiliated. Short-sighted on the surface, but possessing long vision.
His words had been cruel, but behind them was a fierce, unyielding determination to harden his daughter for the world.
Carter's eyes glowed. "The world is confused. They cannot see it yet."
---
And so, in that moment, as the stadium erupted once more, Professor Carter became the first historian brave enough to question the common view.
Perhaps Victor was not only the soil beneath Sophia's rise.
Perhaps he had been the unseen light, the unacknowledged guardian, all along.
"The world is confused," Carter whispered again, his voice resolute.
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