Soon everyone was seated around an antique hotpot stove.
Steam rose in delicate spirals from the bubbling broth.
Waves of heat carried rich, mouth-watering aromas upward, forming pale clouds that lingered like gauze.
The deep, mellow fragrance spread swiftly, flooding the room like a warm tide.
As the pot boiled the temperature climbed, wrapping everyone in cozy warmth and a quiet, happy intimacy.
After everything that had happened, Great-Grandfather's once-stiff expression had softened considerably.
To please his son, he wore a careful, almost timid smile.
His eyes sparkled with eager entreaty, as though the man before him were not his child but a priceless treasure that had to be cherished.
Watching him, Jiang Cheng's mind drifted to an interview he'd once seen with Richest Man Wang.
When the reporter asked about Wang's relationship with his son Wang Congcong, the tycoon's razor-sharp gaze had suddenly gentled.
He said earnestly to the camera: "When I'm with my kid I have to drop all airs; I daren't bring that outside authority home, or we'd never be able to talk."
So even someone of Great-Grandfather's stature had to stoop when it came to his children.
That meant Jiang Cheng's own father had been doted on since the day he was born.
Great-Grandfather slid slices of tripe into the pot, smiling kindly. "Jianmin, your favorite tripe, and Li Yan's shrimp balls—I remembered them both."
Jiang Jianmin watched the ingredients swirl, eyes glistening. "Dad, after all these years—sit down, let me do it."
Li Yan laughed. "Dad, your touch hasn't changed a bit; it's still perfect."
Great-Grandfather's eyes crinkled. "No skill needed—you still know how to make an old man happy.
…The next day sunlight slipped through the curtains, dappling the room.
As the hands of the clock crept toward noon, Jiang Cheng finally woke from a long, deep sleep.
He blearily opened his eyes and glanced at the bedside clock.
Seeing it was already eleven, he started in surprise.
Then he scratched his messy, chicken-coop hair in resignation.
Back home on holiday he always slept in, and his parents never forced him into an early routine.
But at Grandfather's house, sleeping this late felt awkward.
After a quick wash he left the bedroom.
Reaching the tea area off the living room, he paused at the strange scene.
His grandfather sat in the host's seat, cup in hand, face grave.
Beside him sat Second Grandfather, equally stern, and his own father, looking worried.
The three ringed an antique tea set, yet no one poured.
Before Jiang Cheng drew near he felt the air thicken with tension.
An invisible pressure made it hard to breathe.
Jiang Jianmin's face was flushed, brows knit into a deep "river".
His usually gentle eyes now flashed with anger; he looked agitated, almost undone.
He retorted stiffly, "So what if I don't come back? You still have two other sons—am I that indispensable?"
"You little wretch!"
In an instant Great-Grandfather's kindly face turned storm-dark, swept clean of its usual smile.
Every muscle tensed, like a volcano ready to erupt.
Veins bulged on his forehead, writhing like green snakes.
His once-soft eyes were now perfectly round.
"They're not the same!" he roared, voice loud enough to lift the roof.
Yet Jiang Jianmin didn't flinch.
He jerked his neck upward, tendons springing out like gnarled roots.
"Why not?" he shot back. "Tell me—how many people know I'm your son, and how many know they are?"
The words had barely left his mouth before Great-Grandfather's face turned scarlet.
His hands trembled; his voice shot even higher.
"If they weren't out there living under your name, do you think you could still be living free and easy? You know they've got no shot at politics—only research and education. With such an advantage you still don't cherish it!"
Jiang Cheng's sleepy brain reeled.
Hadn't he been told there were no siblings?
Wasn't his dad the sole heir?
Where had two extra brothers popped from?
Was he still dreaming, or had he misheard last time?
Great-Grandfather had hardly finished when the quiet Second Grandfather spoke up, trying to mediate.
"All right, enough. You two were fine last night—how did one night's sleep turn into this? Say one fewer word each."
Seeing Jiang Cheng walk in at an easy pace,
Jiang Chenghong waved him over with a broad grin.
"Ah, my dear grandson, finally awake! That flight back yesterday must have worn you out. Come, come, sit and rest."
At that Great-Grandfather turned to Jiang Cheng as well.
The fury sparked by Jiang Jianmin vanished instantly.
In its place came a beaming, kindly smile.
He beckoned warmly. "Come, little one, sit beside Grandpa. Hungry? Tell me—would you like millet porridge, a sweet fried cake, or maybe a flaky sesame bun? I'll have someone bring it right away."
"Jianmin," he added, "about the past—we all regret it. Back then that arrangement seemed the best we could do. In such a complicated world your brothers were hungry for success, and later events simply spiraled beyond anyone's control."