Chapter 61: A Boring Night

The kitchen was enveloped in silence. Chen Huajiang’s face twitched with embarrassment; he wished he could find a hole to crawl into. Even with his thick skin, he found this hard to bear.

Beside him, Lin Jiayin stood with her mouth agape, racking her brains for a way to praise the situation, yet coming up empty. She had anticipated many things—her husband’s clumsy attempts at cooking, for instance—but she had never imagined he would end up dropping the vegetables on the floor.

Her gaze lingered on the greens scattered on the oily kitchen tiles, a trace of heartache flickering in her eyes. The kitchen floor was so greasy—was the food still edible?

“Ahem, it’s the wok’s fault!” Chen Huajiang declared.

“Yes, the wok at home is much lighter than the one in the restaurant,” he continued, thickening his skin further. He refused to admit that his long hiatus from cooking had dulled his skills, choosing instead to blame the kitchenware.

“Fortunately, I bought some marinated dishes. Come on, let’s have those for dinner tonight.” He swiftly covered the coal stove and poured the remaining soup from the wok into the sink.

“You’d better get out,” Lin Jiayin finally said, barely able to keep a straight face as she ushered him from the kitchen. She wanted to laugh but dared not, fearing it would wound her husband’s pride.

The wok? That wok had been in use for years—what could possibly be wrong with it?

Chen Huajiang made his exit, his cheeks burning. Still, at least he had managed to shift the blame.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” a small voice piped up. “Oh, Dad’s back.” Huanhuan emerged from her room, shrinking back a little upon seeing Chen Huajiang.

His heart twinged with guilt. He had behaved abominably in the past; even though he’d changed somewhat, his daughter was still afraid of him.

“Go wash your hands, we’re having marinated dishes for dinner,” he said, giving his daughter a hug and pointing to the food on the table.

The sight of her favorite dishes brought an instant smile to Huanhuan’s face. For her, a good meal was the simplest joy.

“Okay!” she chirped, dashing into the kitchen to wash her hands. She reappeared in a flash.

Chen Huajiang rolled his eyes. That was hardly washing—more like letting water brush over her hands.

“Trying to fool me? Come, let Dad teach you how to wash your hands properly.”

He picked Huanhuan up and carried her back into the kitchen.

“I already washed them, I did!” she protested, squirming in his grasp, unhappy about washing them again.

“But you didn’t use soap, did you?” he countered with a smile, changing the subject.

Huanhuan hesitated, then finally nodded reluctantly, her face full of woe, as he held her hands under the tap, lathered them with soap, and rinsed them once more.

Lin Jiayin, meanwhile, was finishing up the cleaning. Watching this scene, she couldn’t help but smile. Chen Huajiang’s transformation filled her with warmth and made life feel sweeter every day.

Dinner began soon after. Chen Huajiang poured three glasses of milk, insisting that the others finish theirs before eating.

“I don’t like the taste,” Huanhuan complained after a sip, milk froth coating her lips.

Milk in those days was nothing like in later generations. Even when carefully warmed, it could easily scorch the bottom of the pot, something almost impossible with modern milk—which could boil for an hour without burning.

“Like it or not, you have to finish it. From now on, you must drink a glass of milk every morning and evening,” Chen Huajiang said sternly, brooking no argument.

Seeing her father’s serious expression, Huanhuan shrank back in fear.

“How about just one glass, in the morning? Is that okay?” His resolve faltered, and he squeezed out a smile, trying to coax her.

“Alright, just one glass,” Huanhuan agreed with a nod.

Chen Huajiang breathed a sigh of relief. One step at a time—soon she’d be drinking three glasses a day, morning, noon, and night.

After dinner, it was barely past eight, but darkness had already fallen outside. Lin Jiayin took a shower and returned to the bedroom.

Chen Huajiang found himself unsettled by the early nights of this era; he simply couldn’t sleep so early. He considered buying a television, but in those days, a TV was a rare luxury that required a ration ticket. In the entire city of Nanming, few households owned one. Acquiring a TV was hardly easier than opening a store—perhaps even more difficult.

“Forget it, it’s too conspicuous. I’ll wait a couple more years,” he thought, dismissing the idea as he walked toward the bedroom.

After an intimate moment with his wife, Lin Jiayin soon drifted off to sleep, exhausted, while Chen Huajiang lay awake, his mind racing with plans for the future and memories of major events yet to come.

There were ways to make money, but some things were possible, while others were not. Many in later years believed that this era was an age of easy fortune, but that was only because they saw the few who succeeded, not the many who failed and were lost to history.

It was like those who traded corn on the black market: if not a hundred thousand, there were at least eighty thousand involved, yet people only remembered one successful tycoon named Wang.

Chen Huajiang would never engage in smuggling agricultural goods. Even two decades later, those caught would still be prosecuted—how much more so now?

After much deliberation, he resolved to proceed cautiously, advancing one step at a time.

He wanted to be a clean, upright businessman—someone whose record would remain spotless even into the age of the Internet, someone whose life could withstand any scrutiny.

Lost in thought, his mind began to grow hazy, and he was just about to fall asleep when—

“Don’t hit me, don’t hit Huanhuan,” Lin Jiayin murmured, trembling slightly in her sleep.

The words jolted Chen Huajiang awake. Seeing the woman beside him with furrowed brows and a curled, defensive posture, he felt a sudden pang of guilt.

He had made too many mistakes in the past, venting his professional frustrations and personal failures on his wife and daughter—conduct unworthy of a man. Even after their divorce, he had believed Lin Jiayin left him because she was materialistic, despised him for being an unemployed worker, and had latched onto Wu De.

Even after he achieved success and became the CEO of a listed company, he still held her responsible, imagining her regretful and weeping. He’d strutted into her life with a luxury car and entourage, expecting to see her beg for forgiveness, only to be met with indifference from his ex-wife and resentment from his daughter.

It was only then that Chen Huajiang finally understood—the selfish one had always been him. The scoundrel was himself.

“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again. Never, ever again,” he whispered, holding his wife tightly, his lips pressed to her hair.

“I was a scoundrel before—I know I was wrong,” he murmured. “From now on, I’ll never let you or our daughter suffer. I’ll make sure you both have a happy life.”

As he comforted her, Lin Jiayin’s body gradually relaxed, her frown smoothing away. Soon her breathing grew deeper, and only then did Chen Huajiang allow himself to relax, clinging to her as he drifted into sleep, fearing that if he let go, he might lose her forever.

The next morning, Chen Huajiang was shaken awake by Lin Jiayin.

“Wake up, come on, wake up!”

Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment. She had dreamed a sweet dream the night before—one where her hardships were over, she and her husband grew old together, their lives filled with children and grandchildren.

Waking in the morning to find his arms around her, she didn’t want to disturb him, so she tried gently to pry his fingers away. No matter how hard she tried, his grip didn’t loosen; instead, her efforts left her tingling all over.

Eventually, Lin Jiayin gave up, deciding to wait for him to wake naturally. But time passed, and Chen Huajiang slept like a log. She still had to make breakfast and take Huanhuan to school—time was slipping away.

“Ugh, what time is it?” Chen Huajiang finally stirred, releasing her and rubbing his eyes.

“The sun’s already high in the sky—you’re going to sleep the day away!” Lin Jiayin escaped his “claws,” got out of bed, and began dressing in haste, her tone tinged with exasperation.