Chapter 3

The scorching sun of July shone down on the city's concrete jungle.

The outdoor ground temperature reached 45 degrees, making the streets almost deserted. Those who had to go out tried to use transportation, and staying in cool or air-conditioned spaces was the best choice.

Bak sat under the shade of a tree, holding an ice lolly to cool off. Even in the shade by the roadside, the high temperature made every pore on his body sweat. However, he preferred to stay here because only here could he escape the intense enthusiasm of his parents at home.

That kind of accumulated affection, which had been interrupted for several years, was completely out of sync with Bak's current mood.

Even his occasional daydreaming or reminiscing about the past would earn him extra care from his parents.

Most importantly, this care made it impossible for Bak to leave abruptly. Just thinking about the disappointment and sadness his departure would bring to his parents made him put aside his iron heart and stay at home, feeling both amused and helpless.

Sitting on the street, he finished an ice lolly and smoked a cigarette. Then, his mother's call came as if on cue: "Xiaoming, come back and have some lotus seed and silver ear soup, okay? It's already in the fridge. Come back and try it to see if it's sweet enough..."

Too sweet!

For Bak, who had returned from a war-torn place with complex emotions, such family affection was too sweet, almost overwhelming.

But just as his father had transformed from a middle-aged man prone to anger into an elderly man deeply affectionate towards his children, Bak also deeply felt the responsibility of being a son. Having lost a love, he really wanted to maintain this family bond and stay, so he responded lazily, threw away the cigarette butt, and put on his slippers to go home.

As he walked into the dormitory area along the shaded path, he turned a corner and heard his mother's sharp voice: "What does it matter if Zhiming has no prospects! He sends money home, in dollars! Otherwise, where would I get the money to buy a house? A garden villa! Who said he washes dishes in America? Who said it? I'll tear their mouths apart if they name names! These women have nothing better to do than gossip!" Where was the dignity of a primary school teacher?

That powerful voice made Bak's temples throb. He helplessly covered his head and turned the corner. A group of aunties and grandmas scattered at the sight of him, and Liu Shufen's voice immediately lowered to a normal, cheerful tone: "Xiaoming is back... come over, your father bought you new clothes..."

Bak, who had never flinched in the face of gunfire, felt dizzy and disoriented. The sofa was piled with various patterned shirts, suits, and T-shirts, contrasting sharply with the old, washed-out shirt his father was wearing. Bak's forehead throbbed: "Dad... since we're living here, why don't we sell the house and buy you some good clothes and better food? Mom can also enjoy life, no need to give extra classes or work hard, okay?" He handed back his mother's knock-off phone; he really didn't need a phone now, as he had no one to contact besides his family.

Bak Dacheng, leaning on a cane, still had the same stance: "We should live frugally. The money you earned from studying and working abroad was hard-earned. Buying a house was for your future. We old folks are used to living this way. If you want to succeed, you need to dress well. This suit is a brand name, over a thousand yuan per set. Do you think it's good enough?"

Liu Shufen also looked forward: "Xiaoming, what advanced technology did you learn abroad? Show it to them to impress them..." but was interrupted by Bak Dacheng: "Zhiming, try on the clothes. Do you want to buy a car? Here's your savings book. We still have some savings. Your mother used the money to buy the house, but there's still some left. I haven't checked how much."

In this family, Bak Dacheng used to be the one who made all the decisions, but now he had a heart full of affection for his son, wanting to give him the best of everything. This huge change was the hardest for Bak to adapt to.

Bak's head was about to explode. He sat on a bench in the narrow room: "Dad, Mom, I've said many times, this money is for your living expenses, not for me... I'll find a way to work. We have enough to eat and drink. Since Mom bought the house, why don't we move in?"

Liu Shufen glanced at her husband before speaking, holding Bak's hand affectionately: "You're young, and life is long. You should plan ahead. Are you going to start a company and do big things?"

Bak tried to reason: "I have money, and I have money abroad..." Liu Shufen immediately became tense: "Are you going abroad again?" Bak Dacheng didn't say anything, but his raised eyebrows showed his concern.

Bak tried to ease his mother's worries: "No, no, I'll stay at home and work hard. You just wait and enjoy life!" Over the past few days, Bak had been thinking about what he could do, but more importantly, he was adjusting his body and mind. As the saying goes, "A good craftsman must first sharpen his tools." Even after half a year of studying abroad, Bak understood this.

Liu Shufen wanted to say more, but Bak Dacheng pulled her away to do the laundry: "Zhiming, rest as long as you need. You can stay in the new house if you want. The conditions here are a bit poor. Why don't we buy a fan?" The old couple supported each other out the door, leaving Bak with a bitter smile.

Scratching his neck, he looked around. The two-room unit was just that—two rooms. If he hadn't firmly refused when he first came back, the old couple would have given him the inner bedroom. The new sofa bed, TV, and even the air conditioner were all installed in the past few days.

The most bizarre thing was the corner of the outer room where he used to study in middle school. It was preserved exactly as it was over ten years ago, with his old textbooks, stationery, and even the posters from his student days, showing how much his ordinary parents had missed him during his absence.

Bak even wondered if he had become a burden to his parents. He stood up to tidy the new clothes on the sofa, feeling the weight of his parents' love, which brought a smile to his face, a comforting smile.

He put the clothes in the closet in the inner room. His father's build was similar to his, and he wanted to try to get Bak Dacheng to wear them. However, he accidentally got close to the window at the back of the inner room and heard his father's lowered voice, using the sound of running water to cover his words to Liu Shufen: "Why did you ask what he studied? As long as he's back, it doesn't matter what he did abroad. As long as he's willing to work with his hands, that's fine. Look at him, he must have suffered a lot, and he's always in a bad mood, often sitting and daydreaming. I feel sorry for him, and you should too. We can't rush him to work. If it comes to it... the house will support him for a while!"

Liu Shufen felt wronged: "The neighbors and coworkers all know he's back... I just want to save face!"

Bak Dacheng was angry: "If anyone dares to say anything, I'll go and confront them. Zhiming worked hard and earned his money honestly. If he buys a car, no one will say anything!" He added proudly: "A good car, a hundred thousand yuan, like the one our manager has!"

Liu Shufen agreed, thinking it was a good idea but worried about running out of savings. She whispered, not wanting to bring up the topic of work again.

Bak chuckled. It seemed his parents really thought he hadn't learned anything abroad. That was true; he had never heard of any notable talents coming from the Eastern European university he attended. And he had returned in such a ragged state, looking like he had been through a lot. Anyone would think he had failed.

If he didn't do something, his parents would worry endlessly, and he would get more gray hair. But what could he do?

Looking at his hands, he realized he had earned money with them. But apart from the violent means, what else had he learned abroad?

The afternoon sun shone through the gaps in the curtains, forming beams of light in the small, well-shaded bedroom. Dust particles danced in the light, gently landing on his long, agile hands.

All he knew how to do was kill and save lives...

The former mercenary, now a bit troubled, sat on his parents' bed and fell into deep thought.

Liu Shufen, coming in with the clothes, saw her son's expression and felt even more heartache. She didn't mention work: "Mom has checked your account. There's still a lot of money. Why don't you buy a car? Or renovate the new house and move in? I can cook for you every day. Just relax, okay?"

What a mother's love can do to a son! It was as if a poor family had produced a spoiled son. Even abroad, Bak wasn't the type to be frivolous. He reached out to hug his mother's shoulder, shaking it: "Mom, I have hands and feet. Let me think..."

Being hugged by her son, who was a head taller than her, Liu Shufen felt very satisfied: "You've always been the best. Don't worry, you can overcome any obstacle. Your parents will always have a home for you."

Bak was extremely frustrated. He had once been a powerful figure, but in his mother's eyes, he was useless and couldn't explain it, only rolling his eyes: "You really know how to twist things. I got beaten up by Dad for my poor grades."

Liu Shufen enjoyed it, leaning on her son's shoulder: "Your grades were a bit poor, but your character was good. You were a bit lazy and didn't like to work, and you liked to eat. That year, your father beat you because you took the pork to make kebabs..." Was this considered good character?

Hmm?

Bak's eyes blinked!

By the time Bak Dacheng, sweating profusely with his leg in a cast, came back on a tricycle with a fan, he heard his son mutter: "I'll set up a night market kebab stall."

A bit surprised, the couple exchanged a glance and nodded vigorously. Bak Dacheng, who worked in a machine repair shop, immediately offered to help his son make a kebab grill!

Poor children grow up early. In this railway dormitory village, most families were of average means, and many set up night market stalls. It wasn't unusual, but had Bak been making kebabs abroad for the past few years?

This wasn't a random thought. His mother's casual comment reminded him of one of the few non-war skills he had learned abroad.

Kebabs were popular in China, especially the ones from Northern Xinjiang and Northern China. However, compared to the kebabs from Central Asia, where cumin originated, there was likely a significant difference.

In the underdeveloped food industry of Eastern Europe and Central Asia, almost every household and restaurant made kebabs as their signature dish, sometimes the only dish. It was as famous as hotpot in Chongqing, dog meat buns in Tianjin, and Peking duck in Beijing. They made kebabs for weddings, births, funerals, and even ancestral worship, not to mention parties. It was something they did for almost any occasion, possibly due to the need for high-calorie meat in the cold regions or the ease of preparation.

This became the most familiar and frequently consumed food for anyone living in those regions, especially the famous Caucasian kebabs, which were among the few delicious memories Bak had from his years abroad.

He didn't care about making much money; he just wanted to have something to do and to reassure his parents.

This was Bak's simplest thought.

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