Luo Yang lingered by the sliding door, his hand resting on the frame. His fingertip brushed against a spot of grease that hadn't been wiped clean, feeling cool and slick.
Yan Ya's movements were practiced, as if she had been using this kitchen for a long time.
“What are you standing there for? Wash your hands,” she said without turning around.
Luo Yang gave an “Oh” and walked to the sink to turn on the faucet.
As cold water rushed over the back of his hands, he squeezed two pumps of hand soap. While scrubbing up a lather, he saw himself in the reflection of the window above the sink.
His hair was a mess, and he was wearing an old T-shirt with a neckline that had become loose from too many washes. The new skin below his collarbone glowed a pale pink under the light, half a shade different from the surrounding skin tone.
He rinsed off the foam and shook his hands dry.
Yan Zhi had already climbed onto a dining chair and sat down properly, holding her chopsticks and resting them neatly on the rim of her bowl.
She didn't touch the food, merely swinging her feet gently under the chair, her heels unable to reach the floor.
Luo Yang sat down opposite her. The dining table wasn't large; it was perfect for four, but with three, it felt a bit empty.
Yan Ya sat down and first served Yan Zhi a piece of braised pork. It was a piece of pork belly with layers of fat and lean; when she picked it up with her chopsticks, the meat quivered. The dark sauce flowed down the grain of the meat, dripping onto the white rice and creating a small, dark circle.
“Thank you, Auntie,” Yan Zhi said, holding her bowl to catch it.
Yan Ya glanced at her, said nothing, and then extended her chopsticks toward Luo Yang.
Luo Yang quickly held up his bowl to receive it himself. Two pieces of meat landed on the rice, bouncing with a dull thud.
“Eat more,” Yan Ya said.
Luo Yang took a mouthful of rice. The sauce from the braised pork mixed with the grains, hitting the perfect balance of salty and sweet. The fatty part was stewed until tender, melting away with just a press of the tongue.
As he chewed, he suddenly felt a sense of daze.
The taste was exactly as he remembered. From the dining table of his childhood, the same braised pork, the same heat, even the number of star anise used was identical.
Yan Ya didn't use her chopsticks. She held her teacup and sipped slowly, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment before moving to Yan Zhi.
“So,” she set her teacup down, the base clinking softly against the glass tabletop, “where did this child come from?”
Luo Yang swallowed the rice in his mouth and poked at the grains in his bowl with his chopsticks. After a couple of pokes, he set the chopsticks down.
He started from the beginning, his words brief but direct.
From the Rift to the Great Hall, to Yan Zhi sitting on the throne with her eyes closed, he didn't omit her claim that she had been dead for a long time and had buried the corpses of an entire dynasty.
Then he spoke about how he had slain the man-faced lion, how the military had cleared her for release after their return, and how she had followed him back.
He kept it concise, saying everything that needed to be said and mentioning everything that could be proven. The military's testing records, Cao Tianlin's signature on the release forms, and the fact that Yan Zhi truly had no vital signs—everything was laid out thoroughly on the table.
Once he finished, he shut his mouth completely.
Yan Ya hadn't interrupted him once.
After listening, she gave her teacup a half-turn, tapped her fingertip lightly against the rim, and then looked at Yan Zhi.
Yan Zhi was currently trying to pick up a steamed dumpling with her chopsticks. The skin was slippery, and she failed twice. Pouting, she finally caught it on the third try and carefully placed it in her bowl. Looking up to find Yan Ya watching her, she blinked.
“The food Auntie makes is better than anything I've ever eaten before,” she said earnestly, as if she were delivering an important report.
Yan Ya watched her for a good while. Outside the window, a car passed by, its headlights sweeping through the gap in the curtains, tracing a path across the ceiling before vanishing.
“Fine.” She set the teacup down. “Since she's no different from a normal person in daily life, let her continue to stay by your side.”
Luo Yang had just breathed a sigh of relief when she added, “Besides, from the looks of it, she only recognizes you.”
Yan Zhi happened to stuff the steamed dumpling into her mouth at that moment, her cheeks bulging like a hamster's. Hearing that, she nodded vigorously and gave a muffled “Mhm.”
Luo Yang picked up his chopsticks again and dipped the tip into the braised pork sauce. Before he could pick anything up, Yan Ya's voice rang out again.
“Now that we're done talking about her, let's talk about you.”
Luo Yang's chopsticks froze mid-air.
“I received word in the capital about what happened in South City a few days ago.” Yan Ya's tone didn't change much, but her speaking speed slowed down.
Luo Yang pulled his chopsticks back and rested them on the rim of his bowl. “Word travels that fast?”
“What do you think?” Yan Ya countered.
He felt a bit of a guilty conscience.
Ever since his grandfather had brought him to Yuanxing City to live in seclusion, he had basically cut off most of his ties with the family. He hadn't gone back for holidays or festivals, and he hadn't made any phone calls.
After that battle in South City, he hadn't expected the news to reach his mother's ears at all—at least, not this quickly.
“I...”
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to explain, but he couldn't find the right words after scouring his brain.
What happened that night boiled down to one word—rash.
Charge in, slash, charge again, slash again. There was nothing to defend.
“You what?” Yan Ya looked at him.
Luo Yang lowered his head, his finger rubbing back and forth along the edge of the table.
He was already prepared for a scolding.
“Actually, you're really like your father.”
Luo Yang looked up. Yan Ya's expression didn't hold the blame he had expected; her brow wasn't furrowed, and the corners of her mouth weren't turned down. Instead, she was smiling.
The smile was faint, revealing the fine lines at the corners of her eyes under the light—marks that only someone in their mid-forties would have.
“Your father was just like this when he was young.” She took her chopsticks from the rest. “Even when he could have avoided it, he insisted on going. Even when he could have let others take the lead, he insisted on being at the very front. I argued with him many times over that back then. Every time, he'd say he understood, only to forget the moment he turned around.”
She paused, the tip of her chopsticks tapping lightly on the rim of her bowl.
“Later, I realized it wasn't that he couldn't change, but that he simply wouldn't. Some people are just like that in their bones. When they see someone stuck in a pit, their first instinct isn't to call for help, but to jump in themselves and drag the person out first.”
Something felt stuck in Luo Yang's throat. He couldn't tell if he wanted to argue or agree, and in the end, he said nothing.
“So, I don't intend to say anything to you.” Yan Ya reached over and gave his head a pat. “What mother would want her son to jump into a fiery pit? But this world doesn't allow for such thoughts.”
She withdrew her hand, a trace of slight regret in her tone.
“My child is a treasure, but other people's children are also their parents' treasures. Given the Luo family's status in Shenzhou, there are many things we can do, but the one thing we must never do is be blinded by power and forget why we started on this path in the first place.”
“Your grandfather was like this, your father is like this, and as for you, it must be the same.”
Luo Yang looked down at the remaining half-bowl of rice, the grains dyed a dark sauce color by the braised pork. He poked at them with his chopsticks but didn't put them in his mouth.
“You need to understand one thing.” Yan Ya's voice grew heavier. “Why exactly are you fighting? Whether it's to show off, to prove something to others, or simply to survive, everything must have a reason.”
Luo Yang didn't speak, and Yan Ya didn't seem to expect an answer. She took another sip of her tea, which had already gone cold, and her voice was soft as she set the cup down.
“There's no rush for this question. It's normal if you can't figure it out now. You're still young; you have plenty of time to think it over slowly.”
She served him another piece of meat, placing it directly in his bowl this time, her chopsticks clicking lightly against the edge.
“On the path to becoming strong, talent alone isn't enough; you also need a will more steadfast than a stubborn rock. This isn't something others can give you; you have to temper it yourself. Rome wasn't built in a day, and there are things you'll only understand over time. For now, just eat.”
Luo Yang nodded, picked up his bowl, and shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth.
As he chewed, a thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Mom, let me ask you something.”
Yan Ya was adding soup to Yan Zhi's bowl, the ladle scraping against the edge. She didn't look back. “Go ahead.”
“You know the Qiu family, right?” Luo Yang chewed the braised pork twice. “The one from the Metropolis.”
Yan Ya's hand paused for a fraction of a second before she continued ladling.
“I do. Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“I have a classmate,” Luo Yang said, licking the sauce from the corner of his mouth. “She's from the Qiu family. She transferred from the Metropolis to Yuanxing City a few years ago.”
Yan Ya placed the soup bowl in front of Yan Zhi and sat back down, waiting for him to continue.
“Her father passed away three years ago.” Luo Yang picked up a steamed dumpling and dipped it in the vinegar dish. “Supposedly, he died at the hands of an Eclipse-rank Heterosequence. Also, she has some issues herself—her ability is a bit unstable. She's close to breaking through to the Clear Heart level recently and is looking everywhere for supplemental materials.”
He took a bite of the steamed dumpling. The chive and egg filling was so hot he had to take a breath. He chewed a few times and swallowed before continuing.
“Does our family have any channels around here to get some quality goods? I want to return a favor.”
“What favor?”
“She lent me quite a bit of money before. It's not easy for a girl to be out on her own, so I thought I should repay her somehow.”
His reason was perfectly dignified, without a single flaw.
Luo Yang set down his chopsticks and rested his crossed hands on the table.
“I don't have any connections myself. Since you happened to come today, I remembered to ask.”
Luo Yang adjusted his glasses, his finger brushing against the frame.
“Of course we do,” Yan Ya said calmly.
Luo Yang's eyes lit up. “Right here in Yuanxing City?”
“No, they would have to be transferred from other major cities.”
Yan Ya refilled her teacup with hot water, the steam rising from the rim. “The Luo family has a logistics transfer point in Yuanxing City's First Commercial District. To allocate materials from the capital, it takes two days at most.”
“That fast?”
“If nothing goes wrong, one day is enough.” Yan Ya picked up her fresh tea, blew away the floating leaves, and took a small sip. “I'll give your father a call in a bit and have him arrange it.”
Luo Yang chuckled and scratched the back of his head. Then he suddenly remembered something and felt a surge of annoyance, slapping his forehead a few times.
His phone had been completely destroyed in the battle. He had used cash withdrawn from the bank to pay for the taxi earlier; he needed to go buy a new phone right away.
“I need to head out soon,” he muttered to himself.
He was actually thinking about heading to an electronics store, but Yan Ya seemed to have misunderstood him.
“What's the rush?” Yan Ya picked up her bowl and began to eat.
“Huh? This is actually quite urgent.” Luo Yang picked up his chopsticks again, staring at the few remaining pieces of braised pork in the dish, and put one in his bowl.
“But I guess it won't be too late to go after dinner.”
The television was still on in the living room. The ending theme had finished, and it had automatically skipped to the next episode.
The protagonist was standing on a cliff against a sunset-filled sky, delivering a lengthy monologue. The sound drifted into the dining room, mixing with the clinking of Yan Zhi's spoon against her bowl.
Yan Ya finished her small bowl of rice, set her chopsticks down neatly, and wiped the corners of her mouth.
“Take me to see that child tomorrow. I want to meet this Qiu lass you mentioned.”
Luo Yang looked up, half a mouthful of rice still in his mouth. “Huh?”
“What are you ‘huh’-ing about? My son wants to give a girl a gift; as his mother, shouldn't I go see what she looks like?” Yan Ya stood up, taking her bowl and chopsticks toward the kitchen.
Luo Yang watched her place the dishes in the sink and turn on the faucet to rinse them.
He didn't quite understand.
As the water rushed, he muttered over the background noise, “What's the idea here...”
Yan Ya turned off the faucet and glanced back at him. She said nothing, only giving a small smile.
There was a sense of knowing in that smile, as if she had seen through everything, or perhaps as if she felt the boy's words lacked any real credibility. It made him feel thoroughly awkward.
Yan Zhi finished her last sip of soup and looked up, a tiny piece of scallion still clinging to her chin. Luo Yang pulled a tissue from the box and handed it over. She took it and wiped, but she missed a spot; the scallion was still stuck on the other side.
He pulled another tissue, this time reaching out to wipe it away for her himself.
“Are you full?” he asked.
“Full.” Yan Zhi patted her stomach. “The food Auntie made was delicious.”
Yan Ya leaned half her body out of the kitchen, dishcloth in hand. Hearing this, her expression softened slightly.
She pulled out her phone and checked it against the kitchen doorframe, likely reading a message. The screen's light reflected on her face, flashing briefly before going dark.
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