"Back already? Why are you shouting?"
Grandmother's disdainful reply came from the kitchen.
"Back already? Why are you shouting?" Aunt echoed like a parrot as she helped out in the kitchen.
The rhythmic thud of chopping came from the kitchen, along with a rich aroma. Zhang Yuanqing recognized it as grandmother's beer-braised duck, made in a pressure cooker—the favorite dish of his childhood.
He had heard from his uncle that, after the terrorist attack in Songhai, his grandmother had kept trying to contact him. When she found that his number had become disconnected and he did not reply to her messages, she had been frightened to tears.
Neither his uncle nor his aunt had been able to console her. In the end, it was his cousin, who worked at the Public Security Bureau, who calmed his grandmother down.
Cousin had said, "They didn't find Yuanzi's body."
After returning to the country, Zhang Yuanqing had immediately contacted grandmother and told her that he had changed his phone number. After the terrorist attack, he and the rich woman Guan Ya had hidden in a government-prepared safe house. To maintain secrecy, signals there had been blocked, and no one had been allowed out until order was restored outside.
Grandmother knew that Guan Ya's background was extraordinary. Apparently, someone in her family held a high-ranking position in the government, so she believed her grandson's nonsense.
When Zhang Yuanqing said he was coming home for dinner today, grandmother had sounded dismissive, but secretly made all his favorite dishes.
In the living room, Grandfather was watching the news. The national television station was interviewing an expert with white hair and a youthful face. The expert was said to be over a hundred years old, yet his skin was as delicate as a baby's.
The expert claimed