Chapter 2

"Mom, I'm back!" A clear voice called out from downstairs, followed by a series of light, quick footsteps. A girl wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans appeared on the stairs like the wind.

Her shoulder-length hair swayed with her movements, revealing her milk-white face. Her slightly chubby cheeks still retained a hint of baby fat, but her oval-shaped, evenly proportioned and delicate face was charmingly cute and sweet, even without makeup!

Of course, at sixteen, the girl hadn't fully grown yet. Her flat chest and the outfit of jeans, combined with her hurried running, made her look a bit like a tomboy!

"Yiyi?"

Hearing her running up, a man wearing an apron and holding two long wooden chopsticks emerged from the kitchen, where the exhaust fan was humming. Seeing the girl, he smiled gently: "Why are you back so soon? Didn't you say you were going to play with Feifei?"

Yang Ruoyi saw him and pouted slightly, retorting: "Dad, I've been playing all afternoon!"

Indeed, the girl's name was Yang Ruoyi, and the man busy preparing dinner was our protagonist, Yang Han, her father, her biological father!

Don't be fooled by Yang Han's appearance; he looked only about twenty-six or twenty-seven, standing at 1.8 meters tall with a chiseled face, a wheat-colored complexion, and a buzz cut. He didn't look like a soldier or a cook but more like a handsome young man with a rugged charm!

In reality, he was already forty years old!

Despite his unchanged appearance, the traces of time were evident in his deep, reserved eyes.

"Hehe, during the holidays, you should go out and play more. Adjust your mindset to better face the three years of high school ahead!"

Yang Han waved the wooden chopsticks in his hand and smiled slightly, somewhat proudly: "Wait a bit longer. Dinner isn't ready yet. Dad is making your favorite fried lotus root patties!"

"Fried lotus root patties?" Yang Ruoyi followed her father into the kitchen with surprise.

Their kitchen was quite large, as it was part of their self-built house, measuring about twenty square meters! The U-shaped cabinets encircled the kitchen, but there was still plenty of space in the middle for movement.

On the spotless countertop next to the stove, Yang Ruoyi saw the lotus root patties her father had already prepared. They were neatly lined up in a rectangular dish, the meat filling almost spilling out of the holes in the lotus root slices!

When she returned, Yang Han was just about to start frying the patties. He asked his daughter to stand back a bit, then added a generous amount of oil to the pot and heated it on medium-low.

He picked up a patty with the chopsticks, dipped it in the batter on both sides from a large bowl, and placed it in the oil. Immediately, bubbles began to rise and dance on the oil surface.

It smelled delicious!

Yang Ruoyi couldn't resist sniffing and even swallowed her saliva secretly.

Yang Han turned around and saw this, smiling: "Don't be impatient, it'll be ready soon!"

"I'm not impatient..."

Yang Ruoyi felt a bit embarrassed and pursed her lips, but then she remembered what she wanted to tell her father. She hesitated for a moment and then spoke: "Dad, I want to talk to you about something."

Yang Han continued his work, asking casually: "What is it?"

"I want to become a singer!"

Afraid her father might misunderstand, Yang Ruoyi quickly added: "Like the singers on TV, singing and holding concerts!"

Upon hearing this, Yang Han's brows furrowed slightly, but he patiently fried all the patties until they turned golden, then fished them out and slowly said: "What's so good about being a singer? Those stars on TV may look glamorous, but behind the scenes, they might be just like us, watching TV and picking their feet."

"Dad! Can we stop talking about picking feet?"

Yang Ruoyi's ears turned red with embarrassment. It was just that one day after the middle school entrance exam, she had unconsciously picked her feet while watching TV, and her father had made it a laughing point.

"Seriously, Dad... I want to become a trainee at an entertainment company and see if I can become a singer. Can you let me try?"

Yang Ruoyi hugged her father's arm, twisted her shoulders, and pleaded with a long, cajoling voice.

She rarely used this tactic.

It's not that Yang Han was unyielding or dictatorial at home.

On the contrary, Yang Han doted on his daughter! From a young age, he would buy whatever Yang Ruoyi liked. He was stricter about her studies, but in other aspects, especially material conditions, he indulged her—this was what people called "raising a daughter in luxury."

Yang Ruoyi rarely made requests to her father. As a child, she was low-maintenance (she didn't cry or fuss, and when Yang Han put her in the stroller, she could play by herself). As she grew up, she had little interest in luxury items. Things like phones and bicycles, which other children coveted, she was among the first in her class to own.

What more could she want?

But on this issue, Yang Han wasn't so easily swayed!

"Trainee? How hard do you think it will be? Your dad can't bear to see you suffer like that!"

Yang Han picked up a cloth, wiped the stove where some batter had splattered, and smiled: "If you really want to sing and perform on stage, no problem!"

"Huh?" Yang Ruoyi looked at her father with surprise. Had he changed his mind?

"Tomorrow, Dad will take you to a KTV to practice singing. We'll aim to perform on the New Year's stage in Xiguan Beilang Village!" Yang Han raised his thumb and jokingly said to his daughter.

But it wasn't funny!

"Dad!" Yang Ruoyi stomped her foot in frustration, her mouth pouting, "You're just fooling me again!"

"What do you mean 'again'?"

Yang Han laughed, emphasizing a word, and gestured for her to stand back: "Don't get too close, Dad needs to fry them again."

The patties needed to be fried a second time to make the surface even crispier. Yang Han used the time to cool the first batch while joking with his daughter. Now, he turned up the heat to medium-high and prepared to fry them again.

Yang Ruoyi was a bit afraid of the frying, so she stood a bit farther away from her father. But she didn't let him change the subject and said gloomily: "You've fooled me so many times! I remember them all."

"When I was in kindergarten, I once asked you: Dad, where do we come from? You told me: We all come from Earth!"

Yang Ruoyi huffed, "What's Earth? Later, I found out you meant our planet!"

Yang Han smiled but didn't elaborate much, as his daughter was now grown and no longer as easily fooled as when she was little.

He shrugged: "You also told me that Pengpeng was a gift from his dad when he bought a TV."

"Not just that! When I started primary school, I came home and asked if we were poor."

Yang Ruoyi counted on her fingers, recounting the times her father had fooled her: "Because other dads go to work, but I never saw you go. What did you tell me?"

"We are very rich!" Yang Han laughed.

"Yes, that's what you said, and you claimed we had dozens of buildings for rent!"

Yang Ruoyi pouted: "Where are those dozens of buildings? We only have two small houses, and the one where you opened the teahouse was bought later. And you don't even rent them out, so how can you collect rent?"

"Having two houses in Guangzhou isn't considered rich?"

Yang Han smiled at his daughter: "Many people from other places struggle to buy a small apartment in Guangzhou. With our two houses, if we sold them, we could easily buy a dozen apartments!"

Yang Han's hands moved deftly, unaffected by the conversation. He fried the patties for about twenty seconds, then carefully arranged them on a long, oval plate. He first laid a layer of drained lettuce, then placed the crispy, fragrant patties side by side.

He also brought a small dish of his daughter's favorite Thai sweet and sour sauce, which he placed at the head of the oval plate like a dragon's head, adding the finishing touch. He stood up, admired his work, and nodded in satisfaction: "There, wait a bit until they cool down, then you can try one!"

A clay pot of chestnut chicken soup was still simmering on the side. Yang Han stirred it with a spoon.

"Dad, you're changing the subject. You said we had dozens of buildings, which is just a lie! Besides, even if we had two houses, we can't just live off them! Besides, people can't live just for money; they need dreams!"

Yang Ruoyi remembered more instances of her father fooling her: "Like when I was in the first year of junior high, I had an essay topic called 'My Dream.' I told you: Dad, I want to be a big star when I grow up!"

Yang Han tasted the soup and chuckled: "Why are we back to this topic?"

"At the time, you fooled me, saying, 'What big star? As a student, you should focus on your studies and exams.'"

"That's not wrong!"

Yang Ruoyi became agitated: "But studying and exams are just short-term goals, not the ultimate pursuit in life! The teacher said, 'One must have dreams!' And there's a saying online: 'Without dreams, what's the difference between a person and a salted fish?'"

"Being a salted fish is pretty good! Your dad used to have a dream: to have a house by the sea, where spring flowers bloom..."

Yang Han smiled: "Then, like a salted fish, I could lie comfortably on the beach, sunbathing on one side, then flipping over to the other."

The first part sounded poetic, but the second part sounded silly.

Yang Ruoyi was so confused by her father's jokes that she stomped her foot in frustration, exasperated and distressed: "You may be willing to be a salted fish, but I'm not! Even if I inherited a hundred billion, I wouldn't want it! I just want to sing and be a singer!"

The last sentence was said with a sob.

After saying it, she stomped her foot in frustration, turned, and ran out of the kitchen to her bedroom, throwing herself onto her bed, burying her head in the pillow, and sobbing.

Yang Han, worried, followed her. He stood at the door of her room, hesitated, and asked: "Yiyi, are you still eating? The fried lotus root patties will get cold and won't taste as good!"

"Sniff, don't bother me..."

Yang Ruoyi's muffled sobs came from the pillow. After a moment, she raised her head slightly and, with a clear, embarrassed sob, said: "Can I cry for five minutes and then come to eat?"