Ginger is spicier when it's old.

Shen Nian froze for a moment—completing this mission had come entirely out of nowhere...

Who would’ve thought his own mom was the Goddess of Fate? Where was the proof?

He racked his brain but couldn’t recall any instances of his mom having ridiculously good luck. Did she find money on the street or something?

Scratching his head, Shen Nian turned around just in time to see his mom disappear into the kitchen. He didn’t ask further and walked straight out of the house.

Outside, two blue plastic chairs—the kind you’d see at a street food stall—sat by the door, bought specifically for lounging and chatting with the neighbors after meals. The two dads loved sitting out there for hours, only lighting mosquito coils when the night grew deep and bugs started swarming.

Shen Shi sat with his legs crossed, engrossed in conversation with Xia Herui. Unable to chime in, Shen Nian squatted by the doorway and fiddled with his phone.

Feeling a bit like a beggar, he stood up again and was about to retreat to his room for a nap when—

“Had dinner yet, Shen Nian? If not, go inside and grab a bite with Xia Yanchun,” Xia Herui called out, noticing the silent boy with a chuckle.

“Nah, it’s still cooking. I’ll eat later,” Shen Nian replied, rubbing his head. “Uncle Xia, any travel plans for National Day?”

“Heh, not for now. I’ll wait till those two feel like going somewhere.”

“Those two” naturally referred to Wen Zhiying and Xia Yanchun, mother and daughter.

Xia Herui shot back, “Why? You wanna tag along?”

“Nope. Places are packed during the holidays—way too exhausting. I’d rather sleep in till 3 PM.”

“Living on US time, huh?”

Shen Shi finally noticed his son, surprised he’d been there the whole time without saying a word.

His eyes swept over Shen Nian, and a proud smile crept onto his face. He’d heard from Chen Minyue about Shen Nian scoring 620 on his monthly exams. Sure, it wasn’t as good as Xia Yanchun next door, but progress was progress.

What parent wouldn’t want to see their kid improving?

“What, wanna hear how I pulled off an 80-point comeback in a month?” Shen Nian grinned at his dad, flashing teeth. “I’ve got the story—got any Baishi beer?”

“Pfft. Mediocre. Back in my day, your old man walked 10 kilometers to school every day, aced every exam, and collected ‘Model Student’ awards like they were free.”

“I’ve got a pile of those too, you know.”

Anyone who got into Cinan’s top two high schools had been drowning in awards since elementary school. Even Huang Chen, who barely scraped 300 on monthly tests now, had been a little prodigy back then.

Those “Model Student” certificates were just coaster material now. Heh.

“It’s not the same! Awards in our day actually meant something. Like college degrees—back then, a college grad was a real intellectual. Nowadays? The value’s totally diluted.”

“Uh-huh, sure, sure.”

Shen Shi’s patience frayed. Not only was this conversation going nowhere, but he also suddenly felt the urge to smack someone.

So much for “raising kids for old-age support”—he’d be reduced to ashes by retirement at this rate.

We’re just father and son. Can we get some boundaries here?

After thoroughly needling his dad, Shen Nian wisely bolted back to his room, cranked up the AC, and hit the books.

He barely got started before being called down for dinner, where the family gathered in warm chatter.

Once upon a time, after getting scolded by his parents, he’d vowed to become an emotionless study robot to make them regret it. He failed spectacularly—not only did he not study, but he also tearfully wolfed down two extra bowls of rice.

But times had changed. Now, he could both study hard and devour two bowls.

When there was a feast, the phone always ate first. Chen Minyue snapped photos of the spread, sent them to Shen Yue (who hadn’t come home), posted them on social media, and then commandeered Shen Nian’s phone to like and comment.

Returning students were always treated to a lavish spread. Dinner was delicious—Chen Minyue’s cooking was miles ahead of Shen Yue’s.

How could mother and daughter share zero culinary genes?

Well, in a way, turning fresh ingredients into inedible rubble was its own kind of talent.

With his accelerated learning ability, maybe he’d just grind out a [Cooking Mastery] skill himself someday.

Heh. Future problem.

“Hey Mom, had any crazy good luck lately?” Shen Nian asked between mouthfuls.

“Nope. Just a streak of bad luck,” Chen Minyue grumbled, listing off misfortunes: losing 50 yuan at the market, shoes falling apart, forgetting keys...

“Yikes. Rough patch.”

So the absurdly lucky loli wasn’t the Goddess of Fate, but his disaster-magnet mom was?

System, are you glitching?

After dinner, Shen Nian handled the dishes.

Months away, yet home hadn’t changed a bit. The fridge still bore a decade-old Ultraman sticker, its edges grimy but the hero’s image merely faded.

Truly, grime was no match for Ultraman.

——

By 10 PM, Shen Nian shuffled downstairs after a shower.

Chen Minyue and Shen Shi were still up—the former glued to a drama, the latter scrolling on his phone, their hands occasionally brushing as they reached for grapes without reaction.

Chen Minyue loved workplace romances and dubbed Thai dramas; Shen Shi preferred old-school Hong Kong action flicks. No way he’d suffer through a “clueless intern meets CEO” plot.

Back in the day, Shen Shi had bought lottery tickets, obsessively studying “winning number prediction” books until Chen Minyue scolded him into submission. Now, he just killed time with his phone and tea.

Such a married couple.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Chen Minyue side-eyed Shen Nian.

“Gotta do laundry. No washer upstairs.”

“You’ve been traveling all day—get some rest. If I catch you staying up, you’re in trouble.”

The moment Chen Minyue adopted that scolding tone, Shen Shi jumped in: “Staying up? Brat, keep that up and you’ll go gray! People’ll call you grandpa!”

“Grandpa? Sweet—free promotion.” Shen Nian stifled a laugh. Pressure? What pressure?

Exhausted from the trip? Please. He was wide awake—secretly planning to crush three practice tests tonight.

“You little—” Shen Shi pointed helplessly as Shen Nian bounded upstairs, then turned to Chen Minyue to vent.

“Kid’s getting too sharp. Gotta find a reason to yell at him.”

“Why pick on him for no reason?”

“...I just dislike his face right now.”

“He’s your son. You’re the adult. Quit being childish.”

Shen Shi shut up.

But just you wait, Shen Nian... You think Mom’s protection means I’m powerless?

Your old man didn’t build that farm empire—going from hands-on labor to bossing workers around—without being ruthless.

Age brings wisdom.

How about I dock your allowance by 50? Cry about it.

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