"Come on, Mo, have a little with your dad." His father raised his glass, his face flushed from the alcohol, his eyes bright and blazing. "I'm not encouraging you to drink. I'm just so happy today! My son has finally made something of himself!"
His mother shot his father a reproachful look and gently patted his arm. "He's still in school. Don't drink too much." Even so, she didn't stop him. She just kept piling food into Chen Mo's bowl until it was heaped with ribs and prawns. "Eat more. It'll help your brain and build you up. Martial arts training takes so much energy. Look how much weight you've lost these past few months—your cheekbones are sticking out."
His father took a sip of wine, and once he started talking, he couldn't stop. He was usually a man of few words, working an easy job at the neighborhood office with little room for advancement. He earned an average salary, shouldered the finances of this ordinary family, and bore the most pressure. But tonight, even the wrinkles on his face seemed to smooth out, and his eyes were shining.
"Back when I was in school, things were a lot tougher than they are now." He set down his glass and lightly tapped his fingers on the table, lost in the past. "Your grandpa died young, so your grandma raised your aunt and me all by herself. We didn't even have electric lights back then. We studied by kerosene lamp at night, choking on the fumes until our eyes were bloodshot. The food was even simpler. Every meal was pickled vegetables with corn cakes. If we got a bowl of thin porridge once in a while, it felt like a luxury."
He took another sip and smacked his lips, his gaze settling on Chen Mo. It held pride, emotion, and a trace of deeply buried envy. "I wanted to go to college back then, become an official, and give your grandma a better life. I wanted to change our family's fate. But I missed the cutoff by three points and failed the exam. After that, I started working at the neighborhood office, and I stayed there my whole life."
"Mo, you've got it so good now. You have bright classrooms and professional Martial Arts teachers, and your family can provide for you. And you're willing to work hard—you seized this opportunity!" His voice rose, tinged with excitement. "Martial arts is a great path! For generations, our family has been made up of ordinary folk. We've never had anyone important. If you can make a name for yourself in martial arts, get into a top Martial Arts University, and land a good job someday, you'll bring honor to the whole family!"
His mother listened quietly beside them, occasionally refilling their glasses and serving them food. Her eyes were warm and content, as though she could already see her son's bright future.
After dinner, his father, a little drunk, called Chen Mo into the living room. With unsteady steps, he went into the bedroom and opened the old wooden wardrobe. He rummaged around in the bottom drawer for a while, then took out a small cloth bundle, wrapped tightly in an old Deep Blue handkerchief. The handkerchief's corners were worn, and an embroidered plum blossom had long since faded.
His father carefully untied the knot. Inside was a red bank card and a stack of neatly bundled cash, the fresh bills giving off a faint smell of ink. "Mo, come sit down." He led Chen Mo to the sofa and sat him down, then pushed the card and cash in front of him, his tone solemn. "There's eighty thousand yuan on the card. Your mom and I saved it up over the years by scrimping and saving. Your mom compares prices at every market stall, and I quit smoking years ago, all so we could put a little aside for you. This is another twenty thousand in cash. Your grandparents secretly gave it to me before they passed away. They said to save it for your education and for when you get married. I never had the heart to spend it, so I kept it tucked away."
His rough fingers rubbed the edge of the bank card again and again. His calluses brushed against the smooth plastic with a faint rasp. "Now it's all yours. It's the family's Gaokao Fund."
Chen Mo froze. His heart felt as though a warm hand had seized it, and a sudden ache brought tears to his eyes. He hurriedly tried to push the money back. "Dad, how can I accept this? This must be all the family's savings. I can't take it. I'll figure something out myself. I can save up for the nutritional supplements I need for martial arts training..."
"Take it!" His father thrust the bank card and cash into his hands, leaving no room for refusal. "Don't worry about the family! Your mom and I both get paid every month. We can make do if we're careful. Your little sister is still young, and there isn't much we need to spend on her right now. This money is just right for you!"
His voice was low and firm, carrying a father's unmistakable authority. "You can't neglect your health while training in martial arts. I hear rich families give their kids Qi and Blood Pills and Foundation Cultivation Powder. We can't afford the best, but we can't let you fall too far behind everyone else. Buy some good food to build yourself up, like beef, lamb, and sea cucumber. They'll help with your training. And if you need money for connections during the Gaokao, or if your score is good enough and you need funds to choose a school and major, you'll feel more at ease with some money in your hands."
Chen Mo held the warm bank card and cash. Their heat seemed to brand itself into his bones. He understood what his father had left unsaid: the money wasn't just material support. It was the trust and hopes his parents had poured everything into, the heaviest expression of love they could give. In his previous life, as a wage slave, he'd grown used to facing everything alone. His parents' care had mostly amounted to concerned questions over the phone; they had never given so freely. Now, this simple, unadorned support struck his heart like a heavy blow, and warmth and sorrow churned in his chest.
"Dad..." His throat tightened. In the end, all he could manage was that one word.
"Don't get all sentimental!" His father patted him hard on the shoulder. His eyes reddened too, but he deliberately put on a stern face. "I said take it, so take it! Spend it wisely, and show me what you can do in the Gaokao. That's all that matters!"
Just then, his mother came in from the balcony with her phone. Her smile hadn't faded, though there was a hint of embarrassment in her eyes. "Oh, I couldn't help myself. I called Aunt Wang—Zhang Shun's mom—and told her about your grades. She was so envious. She said Zhang Shun only came in somewhere in the five hundreds at school this time, and she kept praising you, saying you'd definitely get into a good university." She paused, her voice growing even lighter. "Then Aunt Li from upstairs came to borrow soy sauce and asked about your exam results, so I just let it slip... Look at me, I really can't keep my mouth shut."
Her mother claimed she'd let it slip, but she couldn't hide how proud she was. A son who made his mother proud was her greatest source of pride, and that simple joy was more touching than any flowery words.
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