Time flew by. In the summer after the college entrance exams, the air was thick with the anxiety of things finally settling and a restless heat that still hung unresolved.
The scores had been released, and Fan Chiran's name stood near the top of his school's honor roll with a score of over six hundred.
This should have been the moment his hardships finally paid off, his ticket into the world of computing he had dreamed of. Instead, when it came time to submit his university choices, it ignited the powder keg that had long been smoldering at home.
In the cramped, stifling living room, an old fan churned the stale air in vain.
Fan Song clutched the printed draft of his university choices, his face filled with barely contained anger at his son's supposed failure to live up to his expectations. "Computer science? Computer science again! How many times have I told you? What future is there in that stuff? Sitting in front of a computer tapping away all day-what could you possibly amount to? Will that put food on the table?!"
His voice was rough, carrying an authoritarian certainty that allowed no argument.
Fan Chiran stood opposite his father, his back perfectly straight. Nervous sweat had already soaked the back of his faded T-shirt.
He kept his head lowered, habitually avoiding his father's hostile eyes, but his voice was unusually clear, carrying an unprecedented, almost stubborn calm. "Dad, this is my dream. I like it, and I'm good at it. I've looked into it. This major has excellent prospects, and the salaries after graduation..."
"Just try bringing up your bullshit dream again!" Fan Song slammed his hand on the table, making the cheap wooden surface groan under the force. "I paid for your schooling so you could get