No matter what, Fu Cheng was finally home.
The massive stone weighing on Lin Zao’s heart eased down a little.
Lin Zao mustered his spirits. He ate half a chicken leg that neighbor Grandpa Zhang had sent over and drank half a bowl of chicken soup.
After padding his stomach and regaining some energy, he tied on his little floral apron, hummed his favorite old tune, and got to work cooking.
“You ask me how deep my love for you is, my love for you…”
“My feelings are true, my love is true.”
“The moon…”
Lin Zao stood at the stove and glanced out the window. He changed the lyrics.
“The sun represents my heart.”
Humming the song, he scooped a cup of rice from the rice bin, poured it into a bowl, washed it carefully twice, and put it into the rice cooker. He pressed the switch.
Cooking the rice would take about twenty minutes—perfect time to prep the vegetables.
Lin Zao pulled out the half slab of pork that Fu Cheng had brought back the night before. He sliced off a piece of nicely marbled pork belly to make braised pork.
With the meat sorted, he could stir-fry some greens to keep things balanced and nutritious.
Lin Zao looked around the kitchen, his gaze finally landing on a crate of lettuce.
Lettuce was finicky and didn’t store well. Bumping around in the crate had left some of it wilted.
Lin Zao set the meat aside and crouched in front of the crate. He picked through it and selected two heads that still looked reasonably fresh.
It wasn’t a big deal anyway. All the vegetables Fu Cheng had brought back still had their roots. Later that afternoon, he could grab a couple of basins, soak the lettuce roots in water, and they’d perk right up.
Lin Zao nodded to himself, committing the task to memory, and was just about to stand when—
The next instant, he felt his backside bump into something.
The instant after that, Lin Xiaobao’s indignant voice rang out.
“Dad! You bumped me!”
Lin Zao whipped his head around. Just as Lin Xiaobao’s bottom was about to hit the floor and split into eight pieces, Lin Zao grabbed his collar and yanked him back to safety.
Startled, Lin Zao patted his little backside. “You little dummy! Why were you sneaking around behind Dad’s butt without making a sound?”
“I…” Lin Xiaobao straightened up and pouted. In a small voice, he retorted, “I wanna stick with Dad.”
Lin Zao opened his mouth to say more but stopped when he saw the pitiful look on his face. He suddenly understood.
Even though they’d explained everything to Little Bao clearly…
Big Daddy had gone from perfectly fine to turning into a monster.
Little Bao must not be able to accept it. He was bound to be worried and scared.
That lack of security was why he wanted to cling to Dad.
Seeing Dad with his back turned, he’d crept up quietly, hoping to stick right by his side.
Lin Xiaobao hung his head, his little hands twisting together. One foot rubbed against the floor, back and forth.
Please, please don’t make me leave.
Lin Zao sighed and crouched down in front of him, his expression serious. “All right. I’m sorry, Little Bao.”
At Dad’s apology, Lin Xiaobao peeked up shyly, stealing a glance.
Lin Zao went on. “Dad shouldn’t have called you a ‘little dummy.'”
Lin Xiaobao lifted his head a bit.
“Dad was afraid of bumping you and hurting you, so he got a little anxious.”
Lin Xiaobao lifted his head all the way.
“Can you forgive Dad?”
Lin Xiaobao’s head shot up double!
He puffed out his chest, vitality restored!
“Of course! You’re my dad!”
Lin Zao smiled and tugged his little hand. “Then come help Dad with the veggies, okay?”
“Okay.”
Lin Xiaobao dragged over his little stool. Lin Zao picked up a head of lettuce.
The father and son sat around the basin of vegetables.
“We’re eating the leaves of the lettuce, so…”
“I know! Big Daddy taught me last time!”
Lin Xiaobao was eager to try.
“This time’s different from last time. We can’t break off too much—we have to leave some root. See, like this—”
Lin Zao snapped off a leaf and showed him.
“Um…” Lin Xiaobao cupped his face, puzzled. “Why?”
“Because if we leave the root, Dad can grow enough lettuce to eat forever.”
“Really?” Lin Xiaobao’s eyes lit up. “That way, Big Daddy won’t have to go adventuring anymore!”
Lin Zao pressed his lips together and nodded. “Yeah.”
Lin Xiaobao curiously raised his head and asked, “Then why didn’t Dad plant it sooner?”
“Because…” Lin Zao paused. “We didn’t have any at home before. Big Daddy just brought them back.”
Lin Zao handed him the lettuce. “You give it a try.”
Lin Xiaobao carefully grasped the head of lettuce—bigger than his own hands—and mimicked Dad’s motion, snapping off a leaf.
“That’s right, just like that. Good job.”
Lin Zao stood up. “Keep picking the leaves then. Dad’s going to cut the meat.”
“Okay.”
Lin Zao stood by the stove while Lin Xiaobao sat by the vegetable basin.
Father and son worked quietly, both busy with lunch preparations.
For a moment, the kitchen filled only with the sounds of Lin Zao slicing meat, blanching it, and starting the sugar caramelization.
The square chunks of pork belly crackled and popped in the pan.
Lin Zao stir-fried for a bit until the meat took on the caramel color and the rich aroma of fat rose up. Then he added half a ladle of water, turned down the heat, and let it simmer.
The water hit the hot pan with a sizzle, then settled into a steady, muffled bubbling.
Lin Xiaobao’s voice piped up again. “Dad.”
“Hm?” Lin Zao added seasonings to the pot and asked gently, “What’s up?”
Lin Xiaobao clutched a lettuce leaf, mustered his courage, and whispered, “Will… will Big Daddy die?”
“What?!” Lin Zao turned around. “Of course not! Big Daddy’s just turning into a monster. Monsters are so tall and strong—how could he die?”
“But…” Lin Xiaobao sniffled, fighting back tears. “Ultraman comes and fights monsters…”
“No, that won’t happen either!” Lin Zao slapped the lid on the pot and rushed over to him.
“The cartoons all say that! Monsters always get beaten by Ultraman! I don’t want Big Daddy getting beat! I don’t like Ultraman anymore!”
The grudge of a father’s injury was irreconcilable!
Lin Xiaobao hereby swore—
From this day forward, he and Ultraman were through. Enemies forever!
The more Lin Xiaobao thought, the sadder he got. Tears plopped down.
Lin Zao wiped his hands frantically on his apron, pulled out a handkerchief, and dabbed at the tears.
“Don’t cry, don’t cry…”
“I don’t want Big Daddy getting beat… Big Daddy’s a good guy…”
“Ah… right!” Lin Zao had a sudden inspiration. “Ultraman doesn’t beat good monsters!”
Lin Xiaobao looked up through his tears, sniffling.
What was Dad saying?
“Actually… actually…”
Lin Zao scooped him up, sat on the stool himself, and settled Lin Xiaobao in his lap.
Time to spin a tale.
“Little Bao, the truth is, all of us people, when we grow up, might turn into monsters someday.”
Lin Xiaobao: ?
“A long, long time ago, when Big Daddy and I were little, our classmate’s great-aunt’s neighbor’s uncle turned into a monster!”
Lin Xiaobao: ??
“Sigh, that’s the tragedy of being grown-ups. We can’t choose whether to become monsters, but we can choose to be good ones or bad ones.”
“That uncle chose to be a good monster. One day, Ultraman passed by their house and saw the uncle diligently farming. Not only did he praise him, he even helped plow a full ten fields!”
Lin Xiaobao: ???
Lin Zao’s face was earnest, his gaze steady, his tone certain. “That’s what they call—”
“‘Good people get good rewards, and good monsters get good rewards too!'”
“Big Daddy’s a good monster too. See, he’s locked himself up at home without going out to bully anyone, so he won’t get beaten. He’ll get praised!”
Lin Xiaobao blinked his eyes and held back his tears. “When Ultraman praises Big Daddy, can I come along?”
He took back his vow. He still wanted to meet Ultraman.
Lin Zao smiled. “Then you have to take good care of Big Daddy and keep a close eye on him. No bad deeds allowed.”
Lin Xiaobao clenched his little fist, determination flaring. He nodded vigorously. “Mm! I will!”
Lin Zao relaxed, mimicking him by clenching his own fist.
Father and son exchanged a firm gaze sparkling with stars.
Go for it! Work hard! Supervise Big Daddy with all your might!
Just then, a light clank came from the stove.
The simmering pot bubbled furiously, pushing the lid right up.
Lin Zao set Lin Xiaobao down. “Dad’s going to check the meat. Can you bring over the picked veggies, rinse them?”
Lin Xiaobao puffed out his little chest, brimming with confidence. “Yep!”
They split up to tackle their tasks.
Lin Xiaobao hugged the basin and climbed onto his stool to turn on the sink faucet.
Lin Zao slipped a sleeve protector on him and let him handle it.
Lin Zao lifted the lid and prodded the braised pork with chopsticks.
Not quite fall-apart tender yet—needed more simmering.
Lin Zao grabbed a clean wok and set it on the other burner.
“Little Bao, veggies rinsed?”
“All done!”
He heated oil in the wok, tossed in the greens once hot.
Lettuce cooked fast with just a quick stir.
Lin Zao didn’t add water. Instead, he ladled in a spoonful of braised pork sauce and poured it over.
It borrowed the meaty flavor—no extra salt needed, and tastier too.
With their special situation, two dishes for the three of them wasn’t too much or too little.
Lin Zao even boiled three tangyuan especially for Fu Cheng, to make up for him missing the Lantern Festival.
With lunch ready, Lin Zao opened the cabinet and pulled out a pink heart-shaped lunchbox to pack Fu Cheng’s share.
Fu Cheng had bought this lunchbox.
Lin Zao worked at the kindergarten, where he had to watch the kids nap at noon and sometimes take them on outings. Worried that leftovers or cold rice would be bad for his health, Fu Cheng made lunch at home every day and rode his motorcycle to deliver it.
A black motorcycle with a pink lunchbox dangling from it.
A bit tacky, a bit funny.
Now it was Fu Cheng’s turn to use the lunchbox himself.
Lin Zao scooped two bowls of rice into it, topped them with meat and veggies piled high.
Finally, he packed the tangyuan separately in an insulated flask.
Perfect.
For his first time delivering lunch, Lin Zao followed Fu Cheng’s instructions: he bundled up in the heavy military coat and topped it with a thick fleece hat.
Lin Xiaobao insisted on coming too.
So Lin Zao dressed him in a thick jacket, hat, gloves, scarf, and mask.
Father and son were wrapped up tight, like a pair of plump snowballs.
Lin Xiaobao carried the flask while Lin Zao hugged the lunchbox.
They shuffled step by step down the stairs.
“Dad, I don’t wanna wear so much.”
“Dad wears it like this too.”
“But I can’t walk! My legs got shorter!”
“No choice—we have to. Hang in there a bit longer.”
“Why?”
“Think about it. If Big Daddy suddenly goes berserk, charges up, pins us down, and chomps our butts—’chomp!'”
“Eek!” Lin Xiaobao clapped his hands over his bottom. “Dad, that hurts!”
“It won’t hurt,” Lin Zao teased in his voice. “How could it hurt?”
“Big Daddy would just—”
“One bite— nope, the coat!
“Two bites— nope, the padded jacket!
“Three, four, five bites— hoodie, sweater, base layer.”
“What? He even gets through the long underwear?!”
