"..."
"..."
After listening for a few lines, the two fellow disciples finally pieced together what was happening. It seemed the two chefs were father and son, and the old chef was lecturing his disobedient young son, who worked as his assistant.
Though they were now sure the father and son weren't eavesdropping on their private conversation, they remained unruffled, silently watching and listening along with everyone else.
"You—"
In the kitchen, the old chef was clearly beside himself with anger. His finger trembled as he pointed at the young assistant chef, his voice grief-stricken and tinged with despair:
"My son!"
"My boy! You stubborn mule! Why are you so pigheaded and obstinate?!"
"I know you still think about that girl Yu'er, but she married someone else years ago. Her children are already running around!"
"Why, why are you still clinging to that empty hope?!"
"If you don't marry and start a family, then after your mother and I are gone, you'll be all alone in this world, with no one to rely on. If you get sick or hurt, there won't be anyone to bring you tea or water. How can you expect us... how can you expect us to close our eyes in peace and face our ancestors?!"
As he spoke, the old chef's eyes reddened, and his voice grew thick with tears.
"Tsk!"
But the young assistant chef held his chin high, his face full of disdain and defiance. Folding his arms, he let out a string of cold laughs and shot back:
"Father!"
"If you're worried I can't manage on my own, then it's simple!"
"When you and Mother pass away, just take me with you!"
"Then the three of us can look after one another down below. Wouldn't that be great?"
He spoke without a