Chapter 0314: The Flavor of the New Year

For Chinese people, the New Year's Eve dinner is mainly about the atmosphere. The whole family sits together in reunion. What they eat isn't really important, because whether it's a feast of delicacies or a simple home-cooked meal, the taste is the same compared to family reunion.

"Uncle, Auntie." Fan Baobao raised a glass of wine and said to Zhao's dad and mom, "I will never forget your kindness for the rest of my life."

Over the past half year, too many things had happened. Her life was like a roller coaster—after great ups and downs, she finally saw a glimmer of dawn. For Fan Baobao, Zhao's dad and mom were no different from her second parents.

Having a grateful heart, being thankful to those who helped you in difficult times, and repaying them when appropriate—that's what a normal person should do.

Accepting help with a clear conscience and pretending nothing happened is not the behavior of a person with a conscience.

At the very least, Fan Baobao couldn't do it.

"Good child, just live well from now on." Zhao's mom looked at Fan Baobao and said with relief.

To be honest, the changes at home over the past half year were something she had never imagined before. Whether it was her husband starting a business or her son becoming more sensible, Zhao's mom felt that life was getting more and more promising.

Zhao's dad also nodded: "Yes, your aunt is right. We're old. From now on, you young people live well, and our family's life will surely get better day by day."

"Make lots of money."

Fan Beibei's crisp child's voice rang out, drawing laughter from everyone.

"Right, make lots of money and build a playground for our Beibei." Zhao Fusheng said with a smile, but in his heart, he was thinking of something else.

"Dad, I saw that the indoor playground in the mall is very popular."

Zhao Fusheng said to his father.

Zhao's dad was startled, then nodded: "Indeed, many people bring their kids to play every day."

Zhao Fusheng chuckled: "If you ask me, you might as well expand the playground area. It doesn't need to be too big; two or three hundred square meters is enough. I guarantee many people will come."

After hesitating for a moment, Zhao's dad said uncertainly: "Will it work?"

Obviously, he wasn't sure about his son's suggestion. After all, setting up a place for kids to play in a proper mall felt a bit odd.

Zhao Fusheng shook his head: "Dad, do you know whose money is the easiest to earn in this world?"

Zhao's dad was taken aback, but Fan Baobao blurted out: "The elderly and children."

"Huh?"

Zhao's mom, Li Yuan, and Zhao's dad were all stunned, looking at Fan Baobao in surprise: "How do you know?"

Seeing everyone looking at her, Fan Baobao shrugged and said: "President Zheng said so."

Zhao Fusheng smiled slightly and nodded: "That's right. The money of the elderly and children is the easiest to earn, especially children's money. Because no matter what, parents would rather suffer hardship themselves than let their children be wronged in the slightest."

Then he looked at Li Yuan: "Auntie, if you have ten yuan in your pocket, would you use it to buy a pound of meat for yourself, or let Beibei play in the playground like other kids?"

Li Yuan smiled without hesitation: "Needless to say, skipping a meal won't hurt me. Beibei is so young; letting her play for a while is fine."

Zhao Fusheng shrugged and looked at his father, without needing to say another word.

Zhao's dad smiled wryly. Thinking about what Zhao Fusheng said, it really was true. Parents are probably all like that—they'd rather go without food or clothing than let their children suffer any grievance.

As long as you want it, as long as I have it.

Perhaps many young people, before becoming parents themselves, won't understand the true meaning of these eight words.

In a sense, what we give to our parents is not even one ten-thousandth of what they give us, because being a parent is not just about giving life, but also about nurturing growth.

"You little rascal, you thought of that." Zhao's mom happily patted her son's head: "My son is really something now; his head is full of brilliant ideas."

Rolling his eyes, Zhao Fusheng expressed his anger at his mother's behavior: "Mom, even though you're my biological mother, can you not hit my head? It'll make me stupid."

"Right, right, can't hit the head—it's a precious spot." Zhao's mom quickly waved her hand, then... slapped Zhao Fusheng on the back.

Thump!

A dull sound came, and Zhao's mom nodded: "Not bad, good feel."

"Haha!"

Everyone at the table burst into laughter. Zhao Fusheng was speechless. Outside the window, firecrackers sounded from time to time, and from the TV came a singer's song.

"Come on, let's go downstairs and set off firecrackers." Zhao's dad looked at the time and said to his son.

Zhao Fusheng nodded and looked at Fan Baobao: "Coming?"

Fan Baobao thought for a moment: "Let's go."

Since both of them were going downstairs, Fan Beibei naturally didn't want to be left behind. She grabbed Zhao Fusheng's sleeve: "Brother, brother, I want to go too."

"Alright, our Beibei is coming too." Zhao Fusheng laughed, picked up Fan Beibei, and followed his father downstairs.

About ten years later, Ninghai City would adopt new regulations from Beijing, Shanghai, and Guangzhou, banning the setting off of fireworks and firecrackers in the city. During the Spring Festival, the splendid fireworks would no longer be seen, the crisp sound of firecrackers would no longer be heard, and the flavor of the New Year would gradually fade.

Of course, that's not to say banning fireworks is a bad thing, but without the sound of firecrackers, something always feels missing.

Zhao Fusheng held Fan Beibei, watching his father tie the firecrackers to a wooden stick, light a cigarette, bring it under the firecrackers, and then a spark flashed, and the crisp sound of firecrackers rang out.

"New Year's here!"

Someone shouted in the distance, and farther away, someone else shouted too.

"New Year!"

Zhao Fusheng suddenly shouted loudly, startling the little girl in his arms. Fan Baobao beside him slapped him: "What are you yelling for? Scared me to death!"

Zhao Fusheng chuckled. No one noticed a tear sliding from the corner of his eye.

He had once thought he would never see this scene again—his father lighting firecrackers while he and Fan Baobao stood nearby laughing. It was a scene that appeared countless times in his dreams in his previous life.

In fact, we all encounter such things: walking a strange path in the same place, listening to a confession on a mountaintop, glimpsing a corpse at the bottom of the sea, thinking about the future on the sofa. These are the black-and-white movies of our lives—no dialogue, only fate can provide the subtitles.

Glancing at Fan Baobao, whose cheeks were flushed with excitement, Zhao Fusheng said softly: "Fan Baobao, Happy New Year."

"Huh?" Fan Baobao heard Zhao Fusheng's words, looked up, and gave him a strange glance: "Mm, Happy New Year."

Then, the girl took out a scarf from her pocket and handed it to Zhao Fusheng: "I knitted it in the dormitory. Here, for you."

Zhao Fusheng was stunned, standing there, momentarily at a loss for words.