A Conversation with the Zhao Family and the Weight of the Future

Chen Mo and Zhao Peng returned from the basement entertainment room to the first-floor living room, still carrying the slight dizziness from gaming and their lingering excitement. The afterglow of their fierce virtual-world battle had yet to fade, and both wore the distinct exhilaration of youth, their steps noticeably lighter.

The moment they stepped into the brightly lit living room, that relaxed, buoyant atmosphere seemed to have been put on pause. The smiles on both their faces faded slightly in unspoken unison.

There were two more unexpected guests in the living room—or rather, the true owners of the house.

On the sofa in the seat of honor sat a middle-aged man of about forty-five or forty-six. Unlike the unusually burly build of an ordinary martial artist, his physique was well-proportioned and upright. He wore a fitted set of dark gray loungewear, the fine fabric understated yet refined. He was leafing through a neatly bound document, its cover faintly displaying the words "Pengcheng Martial Arts Chain Expansion Plan," clearly some sort of business report. His features were scholarly, with a pair of thin gold-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. His eyes behind the lenses were calm, making him seem more like a scholar deeply immersed in academia or an entrepreneur commanding the boardroom. Yet whenever he occasionally looked up and swept his gaze across the room, a glint of sharpness and composure honed through hardship flickered in his eyes. It was the bearing of someone long accustomed to authority, and the restraint of a true powerhouse—without any need to show off, he carried an innate air of intimidation. This was Zhao Peng's father, Zhao Zhiyou, a Third-Rank Martial Artist and the head of Pengcheng Group, a prominent figure in both Huihe City Area's business and martial arts circles.

On the single sofa across from him sat a woman who appeared to be just over forty. She wore ivory silk loungewear, her long hair loosely pinned up to reveal her smooth forehead. Her well-maintained face bore few signs of age, and her brows and eyes were seventy percent similar to Zhao Peng's, carrying a touch of frankness along with an astute, capable air. She held a cup of flower tea with petals floating on top, her attention fixed on the LCD television before her. It was not playing an entertainment program, but financial news. From time to time, she nodded lightly, as if considering something. She was Zhao Peng's mother, Wang Hui, a Second-Rank Martial Artist and Zhao Zhiyou's capable right-hand woman. She personally managed Pengcheng Group's finances and personnel, making her the true mistress of the household.

"Dad, Mom, you're back?" Zhao Peng immediately put away his earlier playful grin, his tone becoming much more proper, though not overly stiff. Clearly, the Zhao Family's atmosphere was not particularly strict, and the relationships between parents and son were quite harmonious.

Chen Mo's heart stirred, and he understood at once. He stepped forward half a pace, straightened his back, and gave a slight bow, respectful without being servile. "Hello, Uncle. Hello, Auntie. I'm Chen Mo, Zhao Peng's classmate. I came by unannounced today. Sorry for disturbing you." His voice was steady and his gaze clear. He showed neither fluster at their status nor any deliberate, fawning flattery.

Zhao Zhiyou set down the document and raised his head, his gaze settling on Chen Mo. There was some of an elder's appraisal of a junior in that look, but more than that, there was warm curiosity, without the slightest pressure. He removed his glasses and gently wiped the lenses with the corner of his shirt, a mild smile curling his lips. "You're Chen Mo? Peng has mentioned you often lately. He said there was a classmate in his class making rapid progress, with astonishing perseverance—a good kid willing to put in the hard work. I finally get to meet you in person today. Sit down. Don't stand there. Make yourself at home."

Wang Hui turned around as well, an appropriate yet warm smile appearing on her face. She set her flower tea on the coffee table and spoke gently. "You're Chen, right? Welcome to our home. Peng is usually rather lively, but he rarely brings friends home. It's nice that you two get along. Have you had dinner? If not, Auntie can have Mama Wu make you something more."

"Thank you, Auntie. I already had dinner with Brother Peng," Chen Mo replied politely. At Zhao Peng's gesture, he sat down on the sofa beside them, only taking up half the seat while keeping his back straight and maintaining a suitably proper posture. "Mama Wu made a very generous meal. The Crimson Ridge Savage Beef and the Earth Root Stewed Pheasant in particular were delicious and very nourishing."

"I'm glad you liked them." Wang Hui smiled and picked up the remote to lower the television's volume. "Peng rarely brings friends home, but today he specifically had Mama Wu make several substantial dishes. It seems he really does see you as a good friend."

"I heard from Peng that you used the training room upstairs this afternoon?" Zhao Zhiyou asked casually, his gaze sweeping over Chen Mo once more. With the eye of a Third-Rank Martial Artist, he could naturally see that Chen Mo's Qi and Blood level was still rather low, at around seventy cards—above average among high school students, but not top-tier. What caught his attention, however, was Chen Mo's excellent mental state. His eyes were clear and steady, and both his standing and sitting posture faintly carried the solidity forged through stance training. His aura was calm, lacking the restlessness common among teenagers. Those were not traits an ordinary high school student muddling through life could possess.

"Yes, Uncle," Chen Mo answered honestly, his tone sincere. "Thanks to Brother Peng's invitation, I not only used the advanced tester to measure my Qi and Blood data, but also got to experience the training equipment at his home. I benefited greatly. Brother Peng also answered many of my questions about cultivation during that time. I'm truly very grateful." He neither exaggerated nor concealed anything, answering truthfully.

"Mhm. It's a good thing when young people are willing to work hard and eager to study." Zhao Zhiyou nodded without probing into Chen Mo's specific Qi and Blood figures or training details—this was a basic understanding in the martial arts world. Everyone's training circumstances were private, and prying was impolite. He changed the subject to something lighter. "Do you live in Huihe City Area? What do your parents do?"

It was merely an ordinary parental question, carrying a hint of concern but absolutely no rude attempt to pry into someone else's privacy. Faced with it, Chen Mo remained exceptionally calm and composed, answering without hesitation. "My family lives in Xingfu Residential Area. My parents are both ordinary factory workers. They do heavy manual labor every day. They don't earn much, just enough to barely make ends meet." His tone was steady and natural as he spoke. There was neither the slightest inferiority over his modest family background nor any attempt to conceal or cover anything up.

Zhao Zhiyou gave an "Oh," with no change in expression. He neither looked down on him nor deliberately showed sympathy, but instead nodded approvingly. "It's all the more admirable for an ordinary family to raise a child as steady, sensible, and hardworking as you. Peng told me that not only have you improved quickly in Martial Arts Class, but your progress in Cultural Class has also been remarkable?"

"I just recently found a study method that suits me, and I've been working a little harder than before. It's nothing remarkable," Chen Mo said modestly, without taking credit for himself.