The Game of Life

Although the values were not conventional, the cast was easy on the eyes.

Taking advantage of Wu Minqi’s time in the shower, Jiang Feng decided to check out Zhang Guanghang’s memories to relax a bit.

As a good youth grown up under the red flag of socialism with unimpeachable integrity, Jiang Feng had never imagined that capitalist countries would actually play out like this.

While watching TV, Jiang Feng had also asked Ji Yue about it, who told him that the drama was adapted from a novel, and that the novel was even more thrilling—it wasn’t the uncle but an “uncle.”

Decadent capitalist countries, what sorts of mythical creatures do they harbor?

Jiang Feng quietly opened his attributes, scrolled to the props tab, found “A Segment of Zhang Guanghang’s Memory,” and clicked yes.

Jiang Feng was instantly surrounded by dense fog, which dissipated very slowly this time. In the fog, he could clearly hear the coughing of elderly people and the sound of children running.

“Grand-père, tu n’as pas la clé avec toi!”

Jiang Feng in the fog: ???

What alien language is this?

The fog cleared.

Zhang Guanghang, with a face six-tenths similar to his future self, was sprinting with a bunch of keys towards Xia Mushi, who appeared to be in his seventies or eighties.

Although Jiang Feng was reluctant to admit it, comparing Zhang Guanghang’s current face to his future one, he seemed to have grown less handsome.

At this time, Zhang Guanghang’s features weren’t fully developed yet, but his face was still three-dimensional and profound, with exceptionally large eyes for his small face. Even with a short buzz cut, he was the kind of kid that would make an eccentric aunt like Ji Yue repeatedly turn around and whisper with a squeal, “Wow, this kid is so cute, I really want to scoop him up and hug him!” while murmuring to people nearby.

So what kind of mindset did Xia Mushi have to take Zhang Guanghang to get a buzz cut?

Xia Mushi showed an expression that said, “What the hell are you talking about,” and echoed Jiang Feng’s thoughts, “Speak Chinese.”

“Master, you didn’t bring the keys,” Zhang Guanghang switched from French to Chinese smoothly.

Every time he entered a new scene, Jiang Feng always habitually surveyed his surroundings first. There was no need to look around this time; this was a place Jiang Feng knew well—Fen Garden. The three of them were now right at the entrance of Fen Garden, which looked exactly the same as it did a decade later.

It seemed like Xia Mushi was about to go out.

“Master, today is my birthday!” Zhang Guanghang said looking up.

The younger Zhang Guanghang was clearly more lively than when he was older, which was normal. What kids his age would walk around all day with sullen faces and silent?

Back then, there were no computers, no tablets, no smartphones, and even TV time was limited; there was none of the necessary conditions for staying at home without going out. Kids’ entertainment was usually running out and finding a bunch of friends to play with, each more lively and active than the next.

“Your 10th birthday?”

“9 years old.”

“Around here, we call it 10 years old; you have to include the nominal age.” Xia Mushi’s expression clearly showed he had forgotten Zhang Guanghang’s birthday.

He had no children, and before taking Zhang Guanghang as his apprentice, he had no experience with kids at all. His experience in taking care of and disciplining children was as good as that of new parents—nonexistent.

Zhang Guanghang was precocious, having been raised by his maternal grandfather. His parents basically were in a stage where they were responsible for his birth but not for his upbringing or education, letting the child be as he might, and leaving what he became entirely up to his innate gifts.

So, in the year and more since Xia Mushi had taken on Zhang Guanghang as an apprentice, he taught haphazardly, and Zhang Guanghang learned haphazardly. Everything had gone smoothly, and no major mistakes had occurred.

Until today, Xia Mushi suddenly realized that it was time to properly celebrate Zhang Guanghang’s birthday.

Traditionally, the 10th birthday was a big deal—back in ancient times, it was called the “coming of age” ceremony, marking the child’s formal entrance into adolescence. Wealthy families would even throw grand banquets for their children.

Last year, on Zhang Guanghang’s birthday, Xia Mushi had casually bought him a sugar-coated hawthorn on a stick and let it pass. This year, it couldn’t be the same.

Considering that today was Zhang Guanghang’s special day, Xia Mushi reluctantly mustered what could pass for a benevolent smile and took the keys from him.

“Want to go grocery shopping?”

“Want to.”

Xia Mushi took Zhang Guanghang’s hand, just like any grandfather taking his grandson to the market, and together they left Fen Garden.

At this time, Beiping was not yet overrun with the hustle and bustle that would come a decade later. The courtyard houses and alleyways near Fen Garden had not been completely demolished. Jiang Feng followed behind them, seeing mostly grandfathers and grandmothers with their grandchildren, presumably because the younger people were off at work or school. Unexpectedly, Xia Mushi was quite popular among the locals, receiving waves and greetings from many elderly people along the way, who couldn’t help but inquire when they saw him with Zhang Guanghang.

“Oh, Xia, took your grandson grocery shopping, have you?”

“My apprentice.” No matter how enthusiastic the other person, Xia Mushi’s reply remained just as indifferent.

“Look at my memory, I always think he’s your grandson. Just yesterday, when I was playing chess with Chen, I was muttering about where you got this foreign grandson from.” The old man slapped his head and turned to chat with someone else.

“Your mom called yesterday. Did she tell you when you’re going back?” Xia Mushi asked.

“She did.” Zhang Guanghang obviously didn’t like the subject, his tone somewhat subdued, “I’ll go back on the 17th of next month, stay for two months, finish the classes, and then come back.”

Thinking the child was reluctant to study because he was playful, Xia Mushi asked, “Don’t want to go back?”

“Grandpa’s not there. He wasn’t there last time I went back either. Mrs. Grace said Grandpa had gone on a trip, but he didn’t return for two months. Yesterday, I asked my mom, and she said Grandpa had gone traveling again. I won’t see him when I go back this time either.” Zhang Guanghang sighed, speaking in a flawless Beijing dialect.

Xia Mushi fell silent, not good at deceiving children, “Maybe you’ll see him when you go back next year.”

“It’s your birthday today, what do you want to eat?” Xia Mushi tried to change the subject.

“Candied hawthorns!” Zhang Guanghang immediately got excited.

Xia Mushi: “…”

“That’s a snack, I’ll buy you some later. What do you want for lunch? Peach blossom sail? Crispy double fry? Supreme crisp? Purse tenderloin? Or Huankui accompanied by snow plum?” Xia Mushi began listing menu items.

Zhang Guanghang thought for a moment, “Shafu Roast Chicken.”

Xia Mushi: ???

Xia Mushi, as a traditional Shandong cuisine chef, felt a great shock to his core.

“Alright, Shafu Roast Chicken, it is. Later, you pick out the ingredients, and I’ll cook it for you at noon,” Xia Mushi agreed readily.