Author: 颜凉雨 / Yan Liang Yu

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

---

Chapter 89

When the film <Split Moon> made it into the hot search for being nominated in a film festival, many industry insiders reposted the news to express their congratulations. Ran Lin also quietly joined the congratulatory crowd, modestly reposting with a pulsating red heart emoji. In a sea of similar loving reposts, his didn’t stand out.

Lu Yiyao was obviously busy, and it wasn’t until the next day that he posted a few Weibo updates. First, he expressed his gratitude for having the opportunity to act in this film, then praised the entire crew, and finally thanked his friends who congratulated him.

Unlike other actors from the same film who were eagerly promoting themselves due to the buzz, Lu Yiyao’s team, after posting these few Weibo updates, remained quiet. Although the general public felt that his low-profile approach was endearing, his fans became impatient, voicing their concerns under his Weibo posts—

[Last time it was <Beihai Tree>, this time it’s <Split Moon>. Two films nominated in the main competition of A-list film festivals in three years. Why aren’t you promoting this more? [Unsatisfied.jpg]]

[God Lu, did you change your PR team? It doesn’t seem as effective as before…]

[The female lead and the second male lead are trending. Where’s your name?]

[Playing a character with split personality is a test of acting skills. Are you planning to use this as a promotional point when the film is released domestically? [Questioning]]

[Let me speculate, maybe you saw Ran Lin’s <Chronicles of Winter> being promoted and didn’t want to overshadow your good brother… But humility doesn’t work like this! 😅]

Ran Lin could understand Lu Yiyao’s low profile.

Firstly, the film <Split Moon> had already gained attention through the hot search and the promotions by the leading actress and second male lead. Even the crew didn’t miss the opportunity and released a 50-second behind-the-scenes clip. Lu Yiyao’s Weibo posts also served as promotion for the film. Any further hype would be more about himself than the already hot film, which wasn’t what Lu Yiyao wanted, as his career focus was slowly shifting. Secondly, the release of <Split Moon> was still far off, and it wasn’t yet time for full-scale promotion.

But fans always prioritize their idols, so when someone brought up <Chronicles of Winter>, others followed suit—

[Maybe because of the early buzz, I’ve always had a hard time becoming a fan of Ran Lin.]

[God Lu can choose his friends, but we also have the freedom not to like them.]

[I also think there’s some truth in the hot comments. Last night, <Chronicles of Winter> was dominating the hot search, then it was overtaken by <Split Moon>. Ran Lin’s fans have already complained.]

[Ran Lin’s fans complaining about God Lu? Where? Show me!]

[I think each fan base should stick to their own, and fans shouldn’t bring the celebrities into their conflicts. It would make things difficult for God Lu.]

These subtle shifts in comment trends happened the next day. Ran Lin was busy attending the release conference for <Chronicles of Winter>, while Lu Yiyao was in a tea house with several business owners, neither paying attention to these developments.

Surrounded by elegant zither music and lingering tea fragrance, Lu Yiyao watched the business owners taste tea with expertise, wondering if they were genuinely leisurely or just pretending to be cultured.

Lu Yiyao knew a bit about tea, as his father liked it and often included tea culture in his ‘one-on-one Chinese education sessions’ during Lu Yiyao’s school holidays.

However, as he watched these magnates discuss tea with authority, Lu Yiyao remained humbly attentive.

These people weren’t always mentioned in entertainment reports, and some of them were not even primarily involved in the entertainment industry. Still, their capital had extended into various sectors, and it was a rare opportunity to have tea with them.

Today, Lu Yiyao was brought here by the CEO of Pentium Times. The CEO had good relations with these people and would occasionally organize such gatherings, which sometimes led to significant project discussions. Bringing Lu Yiyao along was partly an introduction and partly an exposure to this milieu, a kind of mentorship.

Lu Yiyao’s presence significantly lowered the average age of the group, which was around 50, nearly the same age as his father. Facing these elders, he felt like a youngster.

Most of them didn’t recognize Lu Yiyao, or even if they had heard his name, they couldn’t match it to a face among the multitude of young stars. However, they were surprised to learn that the popular young star wanted to shift careers and invest in his own business projects.

“You’re at the peak of your popularity and only in your twenties. It’s the first time I’ve seen a popular artist wanting to change careers. Usually, they only do so when their fame fades, or they balance both acting and investing,” Mr. Liu said. He was a lean and dark-skinned businessman in his fifties, dressed in traditional Chinese attire and exuding a strong presence.

At first, Mr. Liu didn’t think much of Lu Yiyao. After all, from their position, holding resources and viewing celebrities was much like looking at their own employees. Moreover, many celebrities are all show and no substance, evident after a brief conversation, which is why interactions are mostly done through agents—at least they can hold a conversation.

However, after chatting with Lu Yiyao, Mr. Liu realized that this young man did have something in his brain. When he heard that Lu Yiyao wanted to completely change his career, it piqued his interest.

Lu Yiyao understood what Mr. Liu meant. Many stars in the industry juggled roles as both artists and business owners successfully, but that wasn’t what he wanted. “A person’s energy is limited. Trying to focus on too much can lead to distraction.”

“But your popularity and fame can benefit your company and your new ventures,” Mr. Liu pointed out.

Lu Yiyao shook his head. “Some manage to balance both without compromising, but to excel, one must focus.” He added with a teasing smile, “That’s why when Uncle Li introduced you, he mentioned the projects you’ve invested in but not the films you’ve acted in.”

Mr. Liu immediately understood Lu Yiyao’s point—if it were possible to excel at both, the gathering today wouldn’t be exclusively businessmen but perhaps a mix of business-savvy stars.

Lu Yiyao using Mr. Liu as an example was quite amusing to him, who couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t have the looks to be a star, Lao Li.”

“Uncle Li” was what Lu Yiyao called the CEO of Pentium Times, given that he joined the company as a connection, and the name had stuck since his debut. To Mr. Liu, of the same age group, it was naturally just “Lao Li”.

Mr. Li joined in the banter without hesitation. “Isn’t it trendy now to say that one should rely on talent instead of just looks—that’s me.”

The room burst into laughter. After a round of good-natured ribbing, the conversation drifted off to other topics, leaving behind the young man preparing to change careers.

Lu Yiyao didn’t try to steer the conversation back; he just listened and found it interesting.

These bosses, dignified and imposing in business settings, were like a bunch of old friends when gathered privately. Watching them, Lu Yiyao couldn’t help but think of his father.

In his memory, his dad was always stern and authoritative, a man of few words but strict commands, both at home and work. But now, as the atmosphere lightened and these men became engrossed in their conversation, all formalities were dropped, and it was as if they were just a group of friends chatting away—a stark contrast to their earlier demeanor.

Lu Yiyao wondered if his father also had such moments, away from his sight, laughing and cursing with old friends. The thought was so alien that every time he tried to imagine it, he failed.

It had been a long time since he last visited his dad.

Absentmindedly glancing outside, Lu Yiyao noticed that it had started snowing at some point. The bamboo curtains partially obscured the view, but he could still see the snowflakes settling on the bamboo leaves in the courtyard, resilient against the cold.

After the tea master left early in the morning, Mr. Chen, with a round face and full figure, took over brewing the tea himself, eager to show off his skills to his old buddies. The tea was ready, and everyone began to taste it.

Since his debut, Lu Yiyao rarely had the opportunity to drink tea properly. Relying on memories, he first looked at the color, then smelled the fragrance, and finally took a small sip, closing his eyes to savor the taste slowly.

Mr. Chen had a round head and face, fair and plump, especially with wide earlobes, a sign of fortune. He was originally focused on making tea and didn’t pay much attention to the kid a friend brought along, merely smiling and waiting for everyone to give some comments. This tea wasn’t offered in the store but was a fine tea he had recently acquired, and he wanted to share it with his old friends at today’s tea gathering. However, at this moment, he noticed the child seemed to know a bit about tea, and for the first time, he took a serious look at Lu Yiyao.

He found Lu Yiyao familiar.

“Not bad,” Mr. Li, the one who brought Lu Yiyao, said, setting down his cup with a sigh. “Lao Chen, you’ve finally brought something worthwhile.”

Expecting Mr. Chen to boast, Mr. Li looked up and found his friend staring intently at Lu Yiyao with a peculiar look.

Before Mr. Li could figure out why, Mr. Chen addressed Lu Yiyao directly. “You know about tea?”

Surprised to be engaged in conversation, Lu Yiyao quickly replied, “I wouldn’t say I know much. My father likes it, and he used to take me along to drink.”

“You…” The kind-faced and gentle Mr. Chen stuttered before finally asking, “What’s your surname?”

Lu Yiyao was a bit taken aback, confirming that the man’s focus had indeed been on his tea drinking all along.

“His surname is Lu, Lu Yiyao,” Mr. Li intervened, a bit displeased. “Lao Chen, you should at least follow entertainment news, not just invest in projects. You don’t even recognize the actor you’ve hired. If you keep this up, you’ll fall out of touch with the times.”

“Well, I’ll fall out of touch regardless. I’m going to retire in a couple of years anyway. I don’t understand the trendy stuff these days; if you don’t understand, you don’t have a say. Just blindly investing and being misled every day… Wait, don’t interrupt.” Mr. Chen finally realized the conversation had digressed and stopped irritably, looking back at Lu Yiyao seriously and asked, “Your surname is Lu? Do you know Lu Guoming?”

Lu Yiyao felt momentarily disoriented, as if he was watching a movie that suddenly switched to a fantasy flashback, leaving him baffled and unable to react.

The other bosses also fell silent, curiously looking over.

Still not fully recovered, Lu Yiyao hesitantly replied, “Lu Guoming… is my father.”

Mr. Chen slapped his thigh, realization dawning. “I knew it! You looked familiar. You’re the spitting image of your dad!”

Lu Yiyao thought that if his mother, always proud to say, “My son takes after me,” heard this, she’d be furious. But what surprised him more was, “You know my dad?”

The others, still clueless, asked, “Who’s Lu Guoming?”

With a sense of “it’s a small world,” Mr. Chen explained to his old friends. “He’s the Lao Lu I’ve always talked about, the one I met through tea, the one too busy to meet up with us.”

Mr. Liu frowned, recalling something. “The one adamant about saving the country through industry?”

“Yes.” Mr. Chen sighed. “I’ve told him so many times that the cultural industry is a booming sector, with new capital pouring in every day. You’re going to miss out if you don’t get involved. You know what he told me?”

Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Chen turned back to Lu Yiyao. “Guess what your dad told me?”

Lu Yiyao had no idea, only saying, “Probably nothing too flattering…”

“Sure enough, you are his biological son.” Mr. Chen clapped Lu Yiyao on the shoulder. “Your dad said, ‘I don’t eat cake because I have diabetes.’”

Mr. Chen’s imitation was so spot-on that, for a few seconds, Lu Yiyao almost thought his father was the one patting his shoulder.

The room erupted in laughter, choking on their tea.

Lu Yiyao’s emotions were mixed.

This blunt style, along with a passion for industry and disdain for the entertainment world, was undoubtedly his father’s. Yet, ironically, he had stumbled into his father’s circle of friends. This feeling was… indescribably odd.

……

With the halo of his dear father, the already amiable-looking Mr. Chen became almost affectionate towards him, treating him as an elder would care for a younger one. He gave him many pointers, and of course, he also probed why his father disliked the entertainment industry while his son dove headfirst into it.

Lu Yiyao could only say that there are always differences in perception between generations, but his father respected him greatly. So, although he might not fully agree with his choices, he still supported him vigorously.

After saying this, Lu Yiyao felt his father should give him a red envelope to commend him for upholding his father’s lofty image.

Although only Boss Chen at the scene knew his father, the others were Boss Chen’s friends. So, in the end, they all treated Lu Yiyao as a friend’s son, speaking less formally and more cordially.

At the end of the tea party, Mr. Liu, who initially asked him why he didn’t pursue both acting and business, pulled him aside and gave him some practical advice rather than just broad suggestions. He said, “If I were you, I wouldn’t aim for stability in my first film but rather excellence. Don’t be stingy in spending money. Every penny you save will reflect in the final product. And don’t worry about losing money; as long as the reputation is good, losing money can also be considered a gain in attracting more attention. For the second project, you could earn back several times or even more.”

After returning, Lu Yiyao pondered over the other’s words until Huo Yuntao called to inquire about the company’s recent situation, and only then did he share the matter with his friend.

Huo Yuntao, after listening, had only one feeling. “You’ll never escape your father’s shadow in this lifetime…”

Lu Yiyao was embarrassed. “I’m discussing the future of my company with you.”

“Brother, different trades, different skills. Asking me to help you think about what kind of TV drama or movie to make is as difficult as asking you, who has no sense of direction, to find the cardinal points,” Huo Yuntao said, then shifted the conversation. “But investing is okay. If the funds aren’t enough, you can find me.”

Lu Yiyao laughed. “Hmm, that suggestion is quite valuable.”

After bantering, Huo Yuntao then asked, “How does it feel to be the boss?”

Lu Yiyao sighed. “One word, busy.”

Huo Yuntao: “Busier than being a star?”

Lu Yiyao: “It’s different. Before, whether shooting or rushing to events, once one task was finished, it was done, like completing a mission with a beginning and an end. Now, I can’t see the end; it feels endlessly busy and more draining.”

Huo Yuntao: “Regretting it?”

Lu Yiyao: “Busy but exhilarating.”

Huo Yuntao: “You’re a masochist…”

Lu Yiyao laughed, wearily rubbed his temples, and after a moment of silence, said, “Lao Huo, do you remember I told you before that when I was a kid, my dad was hardly ever home, or he’d come back after I had already slept, and I’d barely see him once a month?”

“Yeah, you said you didn’t believe someone could be so busy they couldn’t come home. You thought he was doing it on purpose, that he didn’t want to get along well with your mom,” Huo Yuntao replied in a half-serious, half-teasing tone. “So, do you believe it now?”

“I believe, but don’t forgive,” Lu Yiyao insisted. “My mom mentioned divorce out of anger, and he had many opportunities to make amends, but he didn’t.”

“And he even deliberately sent you abroad, causing you and your mom to be separated.” Huo Yuntao was well aware of his friend’s past. “Why suddenly bring this up?”

“Although there are unforgivable aspects, I’m also thinking maybe my view of him is too one-sided,” Lu Yiyao said. “I only saw him from my perspective, but I never tried to understand what kind of person he really is. Hearing others talk about him at the tea party felt strange, as if that wasn’t the dad I know.”

Huo Yuntao admired his friend’s reflective spirit, making him feel ashamed of his own lack of ambition.

“Then don’t just sit here thinking. Go home more and communicate more.” This was also Huo Yuntao’s experience. After returning to the country for more than a year, or nearly two, living under the same roof with his parents, he found they understood each other better than when he was abroad.

Knock knock.

Someone knocked on the office door.

Lu Yiyao directly said, “Come in.”

Hearing this, Huo Yuntao on the other end of the phone understood and said, “Won’t disturb your struggle,” and hung up.

The person entering was Li Tong, holding a mobile phone, and straightforwardly said, “Boss Lu, the release date announcement video for <Chronicles of Winter> is out.”

Lu Yiyao nodded. “Alright, I’ll check it out myself later.”

Li Tong waited a moment, seeing no further instructions, then turned to leave, thinking that only their boss could make “having an assistant monitor a boyfriend’s Weibo page” seem so serious and righteous.

After watching the assistant leave, Lu Yiyao pulled down the office blinds to shut out the outside world. Then he sat back at his desk, picked up his phone, and quickly found the official Weibo release video for the release date announcement of <Chronicles of Winter>—

[The fiery hammer smashes the new seasons. The young boy breaks through the nine heavens! <Chronicles of Winter> scheduled for 2.5 (New Year’s Day)! [Video link] @Ran Lin @Jiang Yi @Huang…]

As Ran Lin appeared on stage in the video, Lu Yiyao felt all the fatigue of recent days dissipate. Lately, no matter how tired, busy, or stressed he was, just thinking about this person or sneaking a peek at his Weibo felt invigorating, more effective than any tonic.

Ran Lin, attending the press conference, was in a custom suit, handsome and elegant, and for some reason, had a slightly mature air about him, perhaps due to the hairstyle.

The press conference proceeded as usual, introducing the movie, playing games, interacting with the audience, and the host asking questions. But in addition to the prepared questions, there were a few extra questions collected from the audience on the spot, one of which was for Ran Lin.

Host: “Last year, there was already a clip of your initial audition online, where you were holding a green frog plushie and crying very convincingly…”

Before the host could finish, Ran Lin had already started to smile.

Lu Yiyao watched, feeling moved yet somehow unsettled, as if his lover’s smile was like someone who’d done something naughty but hadn’t been caught…

Host: “A viewer named ‘Love Yao For Life’ wants to know how you can cry so convincingly with a plushie. What were you thinking at the time?”

Ran Lin paused when he heard “Love Yao For Life”, seemingly expressionless, but Lu Yiyao felt his smile seemed sweeter.

“Actually, at first, I couldn’t cry either.” Ran Lin began, his voice clear and melodious. “Later, I tried to think of the plushie as a real person, someone I truly cared about who got hurt trying to save me, and then the tears just wouldn’t stop.”

Host: “We’ve all seen that plushie; its color is really… eye-catching. Doesn’t that distract you from getting into the character?”

Ran Lin: “It’s okay, actually. Once you’re into the character, you’ll feel some sort of similarity in temperament between the person you imagine and the plushie you’re holding.”

Host: “So who did you imagine the plushie as at the time?”

Ran Lin: “I can’t say that…”

It might have been an illusion, but Lu Yiyao always felt that Ran Lin glanced at the camera and then turned to the host with a smile. “This friend of mine is very sensitive. I’m afraid they wouldn’t take it well if I said it.”

The host immediately pulled out his phone to bring up a photo of the plushie and mischievously said, “Camera, please give us a close-up. Attention to all friends of Ran Lin watching this video, if you have a temperament similar to this plushie in the picture, no doubt Ran Lin was thinking of you during his audition.”

Laughter filled the room, both on and off stage.

Watching the cameraman dutifully give that close-up, Lu Yiyao didn’t suspect himself for a second, as his own appearance and aura were there for all to see, entirely different from a frog plushie.

However, after watching the video and standing up to go to the bathroom, Lu Yiyao still found himself subconsciously looking in the mirror…

……

When Lu Yiyao was watching the <Chronicles of Winter> release video, Ran Lin and Jiang Yi were guests on a variety show recorded for airing just before the New Year to promote the New Year’s Day release of <Chronicles of Winter>.

It was late at night by the time he finished recording and returned to the hotel, where he finally had time to check Weibo. To his surprise, he found that <Mint Green> had released both a teaser trailer and an announcement for its premiere almost back-to-back with <Chronicles of Winter>. The competitive intent couldn’t be more obvious.

The teaser for <Mint Green> was also about a minute long, but completely different in style from <Chronicles of Winter>, featuring a dimmer, more realistic color tone, sunsets, grasslands, tree shadows, a quiet campus, and the noisy city. However, like the first teaser of <Chronicles of Winter>, it didn’t reveal the actual conflict, focusing instead entirely on the confusion of youth, without a hint of restlessness.

While everyone discussed the special effects of <Chronicles of Winter> and occasionally compared it to the drama version, when <Mint Green> was released, fans of the book flocked to it. The one-minute teaser didn’t reveal much about the plot, so discussions were based on the actors’ looks and the overall atmosphere—

[Ah, my favorite novel. Please don’t ruin it! 😭]

[The vibe feels right, but Zhang Beichen isn’t the Li Yi I pictured. 👈]

[I think Zhang Beichen fits Li Yi quite well, looking forward to the movie.]

[Heard they cut out Li Yan? Why! He’s my favorite… 😠]

[Zhang Beichen is Li Yu. No arguments!]

The netizens’ discussions were heated, but Ran Lin found the announcement rather cold since the lead actor didn’t appear, and the event was carried by the lead actress and the second male and female leads.

The host excused Zhang Beichen’s absence as being unwell, leaving it unclear whether it was true or an excuse.

Zhang Beichen’s Weibo showed no activity except for the routine reposting of <Mint Green’s> various promotions, making it unclear whether it was him or his publicity team posting.

The audience wasn’t aware of the behind-the-scenes of these movies; they just knew that <Chronicles of Winter> and <Mint Green> were both set to premiere on New Year’s Day. Several other films were also released on that day, but in the current overwhelming promotional battle, these two stood out the most and were highly anticipated.

In late January, Ran Lin began a roadshow, following the <Chronicles of Winter> crew from city to city, engaging in activities and promotions almost non-stop until the New Year.

……

February 4^th, New Year’s Eve.

Having spent two days with his mother and sister, Lu Yiyao returned to his father’s side, carrying both things he bought, and some brought from his mother and sister.

When Lu Yiyao entered, it was already evening, with the auntie preparing the New Year’s Eve dinner in the kitchen and Lu Guoming watching TV in the living room.

Lu Yiyao put down the things and approached, saying, “Dad, I’m back.”

Lu Guoming glanced at him and merely responded, “Mm.”

Usually, that would be the extent of their interaction, followed by everyone quietly doing their own thing in an atmosphere pretending nothing was amiss, but everyone knew it was hard to bear.

Perhaps because Lu Yiyao was intent on communicating, wanting to take this opportunity to share his career change with his father, he didn’t leave but instead sat down on the sofa next to him.

Lu Guoming glanced over, his eyebrows twitching slightly.

Lu Yiyao could tell his father was somewhat surprised.

They had spent many Spring Festivals in such distant, indifferent ways. Suddenly switching to a more familial mode made Lu Yiyao somewhat nervous too.

“I heard you’re changing careers?”

Before Lu Yiyao could speak, Lu Guoming spoke first. Although his tone was steady, the abruptness of the topic still took Lu Yiyao aback.

A conversation between father and son after months apart should have had some preamble…

“Yes, I’m not acting anymore.” As soon as he said it, Lu Yiyao realized he was indeed his father’s son.

Lu Guoming slightly furrowed his brow, lightly indicating his mood was still okay but somewhat dissatisfied. “If you’re quitting acting, why do you want to stay in the entertainment industry?”

“I like this industry,” Lu Yiyao replied without hesitation.

Lu Guoming snorted coldly, the usual disdain.

If this had been the past, the conversation would have broken down here, but perhaps because of the festive atmosphere or because Lu Yiyao had grown more resilient over the years, he felt the atmosphere was still manageable, conducive to continuing the conversation, thus he sighed. “You dislike the entertainment industry so much, it’s hard for Lao Chen to still be your friend.”

Lu Guoming’s face changed slightly, as if the fortress-like dignity of a father had suddenly been breached by his son. “Lao Chen is what you call him? No manners.”

“Alright, Uncle Chen.” Lu Yiyao quickly corrected, then curiously asked his father, “What did he say about me to you?”

Since his mother and sister already knew about the matter, it was unlikely that the information leaked from them. The only source left was the kind-hearted Mr. Chen. Lu Yiyao could almost imagine Mr. Chen calling his father, likely starting with praises like “You have a good son,” then lamenting “You never mentioned your son is in the industry; I could have looked out for him,” and finally reverting to the usual “You really should consider investing in some projects in the industry.”

But what he anticipated and what he heard from his father would feel entirely different.

Lu Yiyao had never heard any praise from his father’s mouth.

“Lao Chen didn’t say much.” It took a while before Lu Guoming finally gave such a dry response.

Lu Yiyao, resigned to his fate, replied, “At least he must have mentioned I’m changing careers. Otherwise, how would you know?”

Lu Guoming frowned; his face now truly marked with lines. “If I know, why ask.”

Lu Yiyao didn’t find his father as hard to communicate with as before; instead, he found it interesting, as he seemed to have captured his father’s logical pattern—in his father’s eyes, a father must maintain an authoritative and infallible image. Any hint of personal softness or imperfection, like how he behaves among friends, must not be revealed to his son. Once it appears or is glimpsed, it makes his father feel insecure.

So, as a child, whenever his parents argued, his father would first send him and his sister back to their rooms. His mother wouldn’t leave any face for him, and more unfortunately for him, Mrs. Fan was often the victor, always walking into the room with a smile to bring them out after the quarrels.

Lu Yiyao, who was once fearful of such a stern father, turned rebellious during his teenage years. Now, neither fearful nor rebellious, sitting down and reevaluating his father, he made new discoveries.

“Dinner’s ready—”

The auntie’s voice wafted over, along with the fragrance of the dishes.

Lu Yiyao stood up first, saying, “Just the smell is making me hungry—”

Having reached the dining table, Lu Yiyao gave the auntie a big hug, then washed his hands and took his seat.

It took a good while longer for Lu Guoming to slowly make his way over and sit down without any intention to speak, just picking up his chopsticks to eat. But just as he put a piece of fish into his mouth, he heard his son say—

“By the way, Uncle Chen is impressive. He didn’t know my name or recognize me, but he identified me based on my looks alone, saying I’m a spitting image of you.”

Lu Guoming, perplexed, replied without thinking, “What kind of eyesight does Lao Chen have? If you looked like me, could you be a star? Your eyebrows, nose, eyes are all… cough cough cough—”

Lu Yiyao, initially in good spirits, was startled by his father’s sudden coughing and hurriedly got up to pat his back.

Finally, the coughing ceased, and Lu Yiyao quickly handed his father the water passed by the auntie. Lu Guoming took a sip and waved it off.

Seeing his father still furrowing his brows in discomfort, Lu Yiyao asked worriedly, “Dad, are you okay? Nothing serious?”

Lu Guoming finally looked up with a pained expression and pointed to his throat after a long struggle. “Stuck… fish bone…”

A rare “family moment” for the Lu father and son on the eve of the Lunar New Year ended abruptly due to a fish bone.

……

Getting a fish bone stuck is easy; just one bite of fish does it. Removing it is also easy; a doctor just presses down your tongue with a small stick, shines a light, uses tweezers, and in a couple of seconds, it’s out. But for some reason, almost everyone tries swallowing rice, steamed buns, or vinegar as miraculous solutions before seeking a doctor’s help.

Some fish bones, not too thick or hard, might indeed dislodge with such maneuvers, but for the more stubborn ones, it only increases the pain—like for Lu Guoming.

In the end, he had to concede that the fish bone was more resilient than him and agreed to let Lu Yiyao call the family doctor. In fact, Lu Yiyao had already secretly called Dr. Meng.

It was quite a thing to call someone over during the New Year’s festivities, and although it was a long-standing relationship, Lu Guoming felt quite sorry. Dr. Meng, embodying the compassionate spirit of a doctor, not only didn’t complain but also gently reminded him to eat fish more carefully next time and watch for bones.

While Lu Guoming, relieved of the fish bone pain, went to the bathroom, Dr. Meng pulled Lu Yiyao aside to tell him about his father’s not-so-good heart condition over the past year, mainly due to persistent fatigue without rest and his temperamental nature, which also affects the liver and overall health. He urged Lu Yiyao to advise his father to take it easier with age.

Lu Yiyao thanked Dr. Meng profusely and offered New Year’s greetings, intending to personally escort him back, but Dr. Meng declined, having driven himself.

After sending off Dr. Meng, who was called away from his peaceful New Year’s Eve, Lu Yiyao returned to find Lu Guoming back at the dining table. For the first time, he noticed that the authoritative figure he remembered from his childhood had aged, and he hadn’t even realized when it had happened.

The food had cooled down, and the auntie was ready to reheat it. Using helping the auntie as a pretext, Lu Yiyao silently took away the plate of fish, but just as he reached the kitchen and before he could tell the auntie it didn’t need reheating, he heard his father’s loud voice—

“Reheat the fish first; I haven’t finished eating it yet—”

Lu Yiyao finally understood where his unyielding persistence came from.

---

<<< || Table of Contents || >>>