Parents' Love Is Bamboo Shoot Fried Meat

"Dad, Mom, I'm back~~~"

Before he even entered the house, Ye Zhiqiu's familiar booming voice had already reached the ears of the two elders inside.

It was noon. Ye Zhiqiu had timed his return precisely; he had to be home on time for every meal.

If he was late, then things would get "comfortable."

What awaited him would be a serving of Bamboo Shoot Fried Meat, the kind stir-fried jointly by both his parents. He had been fortunate enough to taste it once before. That flavor had truly been "exhilarating."

"Egg's back! Come, sit down and eat."

Inside, a middle-aged woman was carrying a plate of glossy green vegetables. Seeing Ye Zhiqiu enter, she called out to him with a smile.

This was Ye Zhiqiu's mother, Liu Qingqing.

Her name was ordinary, and so was she. After all, Liu Qingqing spent half the year working in the fields. Under the long-term scorching sun, even a beauty would be tanned into charcoal.

"Mom, can you stop calling me Egg? I'm all grown up now~"

Ye Zhiqiu protested unhappily as he nimbly climbed onto a stool.

His childish little face was full of gloom.

Egg was Ye Zhiqiu's childhood nickname, and he had always been extremely resistant to the name.

After setting the food on the table, Liu Qingqing wore a mischievous grin.

She reached out and vigorously rubbed Ye Zhiqiu's head, then leaned close to his ear and teased with a smile, "I~ know~, Egg~."

Ye Zhiqiu's face fell. He shook his little head in dissatisfaction, but his tiny arms could never overpower her.

Once he realized he could not escape her demonic grasp, Ye Zhiqiu resigned himself to picking up his chopsticks and fiercely battling the food on the table.

Across the table, a man took a sip of his drink and watched the scene with a contented expression.

There was a hint of refinement between his brows. If his skin had not been tanned so dark, he must have been quite a handsome young man in his youth.

This was Ye Zhiqiu's father, Ye Nan.

Ye Nan generally did not tease his son. He preferred quietly watching the mother and son fool around. A father's love was always more reserved.

There were two simple home-cooked dishes on the table. There was no meat, but both dishes had been stir-fried until glossy and vibrant, looking thoroughly appetizing.

The Ye family was not wealthy, but they could still afford cooking oil.

After all, Ye's Parents were both very hardworking.

"Egg, the Spirit Assessment is the day after tomorrow. Have you given it any thought?"

After taking a bite of food, Ye Nan looked at Ye Zhiqiu and asked.

Liu Qingqing also stopped reaching for food and silently looked over.

Ye Zhiqiu stuffed a mouthful of rice into his mouth and answered vaguely, "If I have Soul Power, I'll become a Spirit Master. If I don't, I'll farm with you, Dad."

Ye Zhiqiu made it sound easy, as though he did not care at all.

But how could the longing and worry half-hidden in his eyes escape the two people who had raised him?

Ye Nan and Liu Qingqing exchanged a glance and fell silent.

They both understood their son's personality. Though he was mischievous, his mind was far more mature than that of children his age.

This had always been their pride.

But at the same time, it was what worried them.

Even if other children failed to awaken Soul Power during the assessment, they might be sad for a while that day, then probably forget about it the next.

But Ye Zhiqiu would definitely remember it for the rest of his life. It would become a scar in his heart that could never be erased.

Ye Nan and Liu Qingqing were both afraid that their precious son would be found to have no Soul Power during the Spirit Assessment the day after tomorrow and never recover from the blow.

"Egg, being a Spirit Master isn't all that great anyway. It's so dangerous. If you don't have Soul Power, don't take it too hard. An ordinary life is a blessing."

Liu Qingqing gently stroked Ye Zhiqiu's little head and comforted him softly.

When she was not picking up a bamboo switch, Liu Qingqing was still very gentle.

"Alright, Mom. You and Dad don't need to worry about me. If I really don't have Soul Power, then I'll go into business."

After speaking, Ye Zhiqiu quickly finished the rice in his bowl in a few mouthfuls and chewed fiercely.

Then he flashed the two elders a brilliant smile. "Dad, Mom, I'm done eating! I'm going to play with Little San for a while."

The moment he finished speaking, Ye Zhiqiu casually snagged a steamed bun and vanished in a flash.

Leaving Ye Nan and Liu Qingqing staring at each other.

What had that kid just said? If he had no Soul Power, he would go into business?

You're a six-year-old brat, and you're already thinking of doing business before you've even grown any bigger? Does our family have money for you to squander? I think your hide is itching. Ye Zhiqiu had no idea what his parents were thinking. In just a few steps, he arrived before the dilapidated house next door.

This was Tang San's home. The place covered quite a large area, though it was rather drafty.

At that moment, wisps of smoke had only just begun rising from Tang San's chimney.

As familiar as if it were his own home, Ye Zhiqiu pushed open Tang San's battered wooden door and ran to the stove in a few steps, beginning to help add firewood.

Tang San was not surprised by this. It was hardly the first day his little companion had come over to help cook and feed the fire.

Working together, the two soon had a pot of thin porridge ready.

Tang San lifted the lid. There were so few grains of rice in the porridge that they could be counted on one hand; it was mostly pale, watery broth. This was lunch for Tang San and his father, Tang Hao.

Most of the time, dinner was the same.

There was only thin porridge, not even a trace of vegetables.

Ye Zhiqiu knew the plot of Douluo, but he still found Tang Hao's behavior somewhat unacceptable.

A Titled Douluo suffered a setback, so he just neglected his own son? Look at how skinny Tang San was—he was practically a monkey. He never got enough to eat, and at such a young age, he was already malnourished.

Was this what a qualified father was supposed to do? Ye Zhiqiu felt a little indignant on Tang San's behalf, but he knew it was not something an outsider like him should meddle in.

"Little San, catch!"

Ye Zhiqiu pulled out the white steamed bun he had casually pocketed from the table earlier and lightly tossed it to Tang San as a warning.

Tang San was currently using a wooden ladle to scoop porridge into bowls, leaving him with no spare hand to catch the large white steamed bun.

But Tang San had not practiced the Tang Sect's secret arts for all these years for nothing.

His left hand flicked slightly, and the wooden bowl in his hand flew free, soaring more than two meters into the air and nearly hitting the ceiling.

Tang San casually caught the white steamed bun Ye Zhiqiu had tossed over, then stuffed it into his mouth and held it between his teeth.

By then, the wooden bowl had exhausted its upward momentum and began falling under the pull of gravity.

Tang San did not even glance at it. He extended his left hand, palm facing upward.

The wooden bowl fell straight down, landing perfectly in the center of his palm without spilling even half a drop of porridge.

The entire sequence flowed as smoothly as water, as though Tang San had calculated every detail. In truth, though, it was merely child's play to him.

The Tang Sect's Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon was no empty boast.

"Thanks."

Tang San thanked him vaguely through the bun, then rolled his Byakugan. This guy was always trying to use little tricks like this to make him embarrass himself.

Ye Zhiqiu felt somewhat disappointed at the sight. In truth, he was very curious about and envious of Tang San's skills.

Even if he could not learn them, watching was good enough. Every time he saw Tang San use Controlling Crane Capturing Dragon, the movements possessed an artistic beauty.

This was not the first time Ye Zhiqiu had tried to give Tang San a difficult challenge, but he had never succeeded even once.

He could only sigh. Throwing a steamed bun at Tang San was like throwing meat to a dog—once it was gone, it never came back.