By afternoon, the bustle had finally died down.
Feeling sorry that her husband had been busy all morning, Song Wenqin chased Zhang Zhaohai and Zhang Yang, father and son, out of the kitchen and cooked lunch herself.
Zhang Yang and his father stood at the entrance of the shop, chatting idly.
Still wearing his chef's uniform, Zhang Zhaohai pulled out a pack of cigarettes Zhang Yang had brought back for him last time and handed one to his son.
"Son, it's been busy lately, but only now do I understand what it means to live a fulfilling life."
Zhang Zhaohai smoked contentedly, exhaling rings of smoke as he watched the crowds passing outside, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"You should've come to that realization ages ago, Dad." Zhang Yang laughed.
Just look at his dad now—smoking cigarettes that cost a thousand yuan a pack, with cases upon cases of Wuliangye and Moutai stocked at home, running a thriving little shop, while a three-story restaurant was still in the works.
Not to mention the villa Zhang Yang had quietly prepared for the family.
Compared to before, the changes were nothing short of earth-shattering.
The father and son chatted about everything under the sun and talked freely about the future until Song Wenqin called them in from behind to eat.
At the belated lunch, Zhang Zhaohai had a couple of drinks, then slept like a log afterward.
"Mom, your phone screen's cracked, isn't it? I almost forgot. Wait for me to buy you a new phone this afternoon." Zhang Yang immediately spotted the web of cracks across Song Wenqin's screen.
"No need to replace it. It still works fine." Song Wenqin swiped around on the phone a few times to show him.
"Just replace it. It's not like it costs much." Zhang