Volume 1 / Chapter 40: A Little Family Meeting

The drizzling rain had been falling non-stop all day, soaking into the air and seeping into every corner of the house. No matter where one sat, there was always a trace of dampness.

It wasn’t until nearly 8 p.m. that her parents finally returned home. Her mother was flecked with raindrops, and her father looked like he’d just walked out of a waterfall—completely drenched, not even a rain poncho on.

Mò Xuěyáo had just stepped out of the washroom, fresh from a cold shower. The household didn’t have a water heater, so even in this weather, it was cold showers or nothing.

If it had been a sunny day, it might’ve been tolerable. But on a blustery rainy evening like this, she came out shivering, goosebumps blooming across her arms.

Still, they had to tough it out a little longer. Only once the weather turned really cold could she justify going to the public bathhouse.

Not that the bathhouse wasn’t open this time of year—just that bathing there always cost more. And when you could save a little money, you tried to.

“You're back?” Xuěyáo called, toweling her dripping hair as she looked toward her parents. She was dressed in nothing but panties and a tank top, completely at ease in her own home. “Did you two plan this or something? You’re always coming home at the exact same time.”

“Just proves your dad and I are fated to be together.” Her mother winked, placing a hand lightly on Father’s shoulder. “Honey, help me take off my shoes~”

“Ugh, gross.” Xuěyáo pulled a face full of exaggerated disgust and padded off to her room, still toweling her hair.

On her chair lay Sūtáng, their lazy tabby cat. As Xuěyáo entered, the cat reached out a languid paw and patted her pale, soft thigh.

“What is it, hmm? Are you warming up the chair for me?” Xuěyáo changed into looser clothes, scooped the cat up, and set it gently on her desk. Then she sank into the chair with a sigh.

She wore her middle school uniform—two sizes too large on purpose. When they first bought it, they'd thought she might have a growth spurt, and figured it’d save them from having to buy a new one later.

Turned out… she barely grew. From 1.55 meters to 1.58, and that was it. So the uniform still hung on her like a sack, even after three years.

Still, it was well-kept and perfectly fine for lounging around the house. Especially in winter—its roominess let her wear layers underneath without discomfort.

Now she tucked both hands into the long sleeves, leaving just a few fingertips poking out to lightly tap her sleepy tabby sprawled across the desk.

“Did you have dinner yet?” her father called, knocking gently on her door.

A year ago, he would’ve just barged in. But now… well, she was his daughter. Even a father had to observe certain boundaries.

Of course, habits built over a lifetime weren’t so easy to change overnight.

“Yeah, already ate.”

“So… you’re skipping dinner?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Alright then. Your mom and I will just make some rice noodles and soup.”

“Okay.”

With her parents home, the house warmed up again with that familiar, bustling energy.

Xuěyáo sat at her desk, swinging her legs as she worked through her homework. Whenever she got tired, she could reach over and stroke Sūtáng, who made for the perfect little stress relief ball.

Sūtáng was a very good cat—or maybe just an extremely lazy one.

She barely moved, loved nothing more than sprawling out asleep, and had this magical ability to stay wherever she was put. Pick her up, move her, and she’d simply continue napping like nothing had happened.

You could pet her anywhere—belly, paws, even stroke her fur the wrong way—and she’d barely react. Maybe just roll into a new position.

A truly agreeable little cat.

That said, she wasn’t completely inert. Occasionally, her feline curiosity would kick in and she’d start pawing at nearby objects.

Right now, she was batting lightly at a small roll of correction tape.

Correction tape was still considered a bit of a luxury back then. Most students fixed their mistakes with cheap 50-cent rolls of sticky paper tape. You’d press it over the wrong word, peel it off, and with it came a thin layer of paper—mistake erased.

The downside? You couldn’t use the same spot too many times or you’d tear the paper.

But compared to correction fluid or branded tape dispensers, this method was more economical and got the job done—as long as you didn’t keep writing the same word wrong.

To save money, Xuěyáo always bought these tiny tape rolls from a stand outside the school gate. If she messed up on the same line again, she had a backup method—correction patches.

Unlike the “rip-and-hide” of tape, these patches covered the mistake. Cheap and easy, they were great for emergencies.

Only drawback? Use too many, and your notebook started to look like a medical chart covered in plasters.

She reached over to grab the tape roll. Sūtáng let out a soft meow in protest.

“Mrrrow~”

“Hold on, let me use it first, then it’s all yours.” Xuěyáo coaxed her patiently.

As if understanding, the little cat tucked her chin onto her paws and waited quietly.

When Xuěyáo finished and handed it back, Sūtáng happily resumed playing, paws dancing in place but never knocking it off the desk.

“Xuěyáo, done with your homework?” her mother’s voice came as she pushed open the door without ceremony.

“Almost,” she mumbled, not looking up.

“Come out when you’re done. We’re having a family meeting.”

“A meeting…?” Xuěyáo drooped her eyelids. “There’s no exams coming up, are there…”

“Why? A family meeting means exam time to you now?” her mom laughed. “It’s just a little chat.”

“Why call me for that? You guys can just decide whatever…”

“That sounds like sour grapes.” Her mother clicked her tongue playfully. “We’re giving you decision-making power now.”

“For real? What kind of decision?”

“Come out and find out.”

“Alright, let me finish copying this passage…”

Her pen began racing across the page—her handwriting turning noticeably messier.

She could write neatly, if she took her time. But speed turned her script into chicken scratch.

Some people’s sloppy writing looked artistic. Xuěyáo’s? Like a dog had dragged a muddy stick across the page.

Who said girls automatically got neater handwriting after transitioning? Lies. Unless you built up the habit from scratch, nothing changed.

Finally, she tossed down her pen, gave a long stretch, and stepped out of her room.

Sūtáng leapt down and trotted after her, weaving between her feet.

“Hey, hey—watch it!” Xuěyáo stumbled and looked down to find a furry body circling her legs. She scooped Sūtáng up before accidentally stepping on her.

“Ahem.” Her mom gave a dramatic little cough, as if to announce something serious.

Three chairs had been arranged into a triangle in the living room—a formation as formal as the word “meeting” could imply.

“I’ve been thinking…” her father began after clearing his throat. “If we keep working odd jobs, it’ll take forever to pay off our debts, and our standard of living isn’t improving either. Xuěyáo’s in high school now. Three years will pass in the blink of an eye, and college expenses will be another big burden.”

He paused, glancing between them. “So I think—it’s time for us to start a business. That’s the only way we’ll really earn money.”

“A business? What if we lose everything?” Xuěyáo asked hesitantly.

“That’s the risk,” he nodded. “Though honestly, I don’t think we will. Right now, we’ve got just over ten thousand yuan—part of it was leftover from your surgery fund. We’d saved it in case of complications later on…”

“Complications… I feel fine, though,” Xuěyáo murmured, letting Sūtáng crawl from her arms onto her lap.

There was more she didn’t say. Some mornings, she’d still wake up with the vague illusion that something was missing—like a limb that hadn’t quite let go.

“That’s good,” her mother smiled. “So here’s the idea. We’ll use that money—some for renting the shop, and some as our… well…”

“Inventory funds,” her father corrected.

“Right, inventory.” Her mother shot him a look. “So picky with words. Look, even Xuěyáo didn’t say anything.”

Xuěyáo scratched her head awkwardly. To be honest, she hadn’t really noticed the mistake. “Buying goods” sounded a bit off, but the meaning was clear—no need to nitpick.

“The shop owner seems to like me,” her father continued. “Said I gave him a good first impression. Rent’s super cheap too—just 800 yuan a month. That’s what makes me hesitate… Feels like it’s too good to be true.”

“But maybe this is just our lucky break?” Xuěyáo offered.

“So what do you think?” her father asked.

“Well…” she shrugged, “If you two think it’s a good idea, go for it. I mean, if we can live comfortably for once, of course I’d love that. And if we do lose money… I trust Dad won’t mess it up, right?”

“Hah! See? My daughter knows me!” Her father slapped his thigh proudly and beamed at her mother. “Can’t you trust me a little too?”

Xuěyáo twitched. All this “daughter, daughter” talk still made her skin crawl a bit.

“I’m just weighing the risks,” her mother said with a sigh. “Not doubting your skills. But can you guarantee there won’t be a loss?”

“Honestly? I’m 99% sure this is a winner,” her dad said, puffing up. “In business, you have to act fast. No room for hesitation.”

“So confident, are we?”

“Of course! Don’t you know who I am?” he grinned. “When have I ever lost money doing business?”

To be fair, Xuěyáo had heard from her mom that he never lost in business itself.

The problem? He always ended up squandering profits—or worse, gambling them away.

So in the end, the losses were even bigger.

“Let’s give it a shot then,” her mother finally said, firming her tone.

“Great! I’ll get things moving right away. You two just sit back and get ready to live the good life!” her dad laughed, full of spirit.

“If we make money, I want a real birthday gift this year!” Xuěyáo declared, eyes already sparkling with anticipation.

“No problem! I’ll only buy the expensive stuff—not what’s right, just what’s pricey!”

“Really!?”

“Enough, you two!” her mom rolled her eyes. “We haven’t made a single yuan yet and you’re already spending it! You’re both money-burning machines!”

“Well, what else is money for but spending?” Xuěyáo and her dad chimed in unison—and burst into laughter, eyes meeting in a quiet moment of mutual glee.