Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

December 29th, Qingdao.

Fang Yuan, carrying two bottles of Moutai and a box of Daoxiangcun liquor, walked through the corridor and knocked on the door opposite.

The door opened, and Aunt Zhang, wearing a dark red cotton undershirt, had flour on her hands.

"Yuanyuan! Come in quickly, it's cold outside."

The room was well-heated, and the TV was on, with Qingdao Channel 1 replaying last year's Spring Festival Gala.

Huang Xiaoming sat up unsteadily from the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, and gestured with his chin at him: "You're here."

"Okay." Fang Yuan put the things on the coffee table.

Aunt Zhang glanced at it: "Spending money recklessly again?"

"It didn't cost much," Fang Yuan said.

Aunt Zhang put the things away in the kitchen, then came out and poured him a cup of tea. "Have something hot. Has your dad been busy these past few days?"

"It's alright, the railway bureau is on holiday, so I'm tidying up the house at home."

Aunt Zhang nodded, sat down on the sofa, and turned the TV volume down.

Huang Xiaoming stuck his foot out from under the blanket and kicked Fang Yuan's leg: "We're having dumplings tonight. My mom made two trays' worth."

Did you help?

"I tasted it for you."

Aunt Zhang patted her son, then turned to look at Fang Yuan, looking as if she wanted to say something but hesitated.

Fang Yuan put down his teacup: "Aunt Zhang, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing... Did your dad tell you?"

"What did you say?"

Aunt Zhang glanced at him and sighed:

"You know your dad, he keeps everything bottled up. I've told him several times to bring it up with you, but he just won't open his mouth."

Fang Yuan didn't respond, waiting for her to continue.

"Your mother has been gone for more than three years, hasn't she?"

"It's been almost four years."

On TV, Zhao Benshan was performing "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow," and Huang Xiaoming was laughing so hard he was slapping his thigh.

"Your dad has it tough on his own. It was okay when you were at home, but now that you've gone to Beijing, you only come back twice a year."

He was fine when he was driving a sports car; there were many people in the car, so he didn't feel it.

I transferred to logistics these past two years, and now I sit in the office every day. When I come home from get off work, the room is cold and empty.

Fang Yuan watched as the tea leaves in the teacup slowly sank to the bottom.

"Chen Hao's mother came to visit before the Chinese New Year."

Aunt Zhang lowered her voice, "She has a distant cousin, she's thirty-seven, and she's a Chinese language teacher at No. 2 Middle School. Her husband passed away the year before last, and she has a daughter who is ten years younger than you."

Fang Yuan raised his head.

"I've met him once; he's quite quiet and has decent looks."

Zhang Huiqin said, "Chen Hao's mother wanted to set your father up with someone. Since both sides are single, it would be good for them to keep each other company."

"What's your name?" Fang Yuan asked.

"Her name is Ding Lan."

Fang Yuan paused for a moment in his teacup. A little tea spilled, burning his fingers, but he didn't move.

"Where is her daughter?"

"Her name is Ding Yuchen, and she's in fourth grade. I heard she's a very good student, a model student every year."

Fang Yuan put down his teacup.

Ding Lan. Ding Yuchen.

His father had remarried in his previous life, and his wife was Ding Lan.

His stepmother was actually very good to him, but he had a mental block at the time and was always cold towards her.

He also has a younger sister, and the two siblings are very close.

"Yuanyuan?" Aunt Zhang's voice pulled him back to reality.

Fang Yuan looked down at his hands; he had gripped the teacup too tightly, and his knuckles were turning white.

"Yuanyuan, if you're feeling unwell, Auntie won't force you," Aunt Zhang said, a little anxiously.

"I just wanted to let you know that I haven't allowed your dad to meet the other person yet—"

"Aunt Zhang."

"Um?"

When are they arriving?

Aunt Zhang was stunned, staring at Fang Yuan for several seconds: "What did you say?"

When are they coming to meet us?

"How's the third year of junior high?" Aunt Zhang asked hesitantly.

"Chen Hao's mom said she'd bring her over for a visit after the third year of junior high... Yuanyuan, did you agree?"

Huang Xiaoming peeked over from the sofa, his eyes wide open:

"Holy crap, Fang Yuan, is your dad going to find you a stepmother?"

"Shut up." Aunt Zhang slapped him on the head.

Fang Yuan smiled when he saw Aunt Zhang's nervous expression.

"My dad needs someone," he said.

"I'm never home in Beijing all year round. It's nice to have someone to live with."

Aunt Zhang's tears immediately fell.

She reached out to wipe it, but the more she wiped, the more it spread, so she simply stopped wiping and pulled Fang Yuan's hand over to hold it in her own.

"If only your mother were still here," she said, her eyes red. "Look at you, how you've grown up so fast."

Fang Yuan didn't speak, letting her hold his hand.

After leaving Aunt Zhang's house, Fang Yuan used his key to open his own door.

Fang Jianguo was squatting on the balcony wiping the windows, a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Turning around and seeing her son, she paused for a moment, then asked, "You're back so soon? Didn't your Aunt Zhang invite you to stay for dinner?"

"Let's go over for dumplings tonight." Fang Yuan changed his shoes, walked to the living room and sat down. "Dad, come here, I need to tell you something."

Fang Jianguo stubbed out his cigarette, wiped his hands, and walked over.

He was forty-five years old, with a small portion of his hair turned white, and he was wearing a blue cotton-padded work jacket from the railway bureau.

"What's up?"

"Aunt Zhang told me. Chen Hao's mother wants to introduce someone to you."

Fang Jianguo's hand stopped on his knee, his expression a little stiff.

After several seconds, she said, "Your Aunt Zhang is really something, telling you this during the New Year."

"I think it's fine."

Fang Jianguo looked up at his son.

Fang Yuan didn't show any particular emotion on his face; he just looked at him normally.

"You...you don't object?" Fang Jianguo asked.

"I don't object."

Fang Jianguo seemed not to understand and looked at his son for several more seconds.

He took his hand off his knee, intending to reach for the cigarettes on the coffee table, but after a moment's hesitation, he put his hand back down.

"I was thinking of waiting until you graduate to talk about it," he said, his words a little hesitant. "There's no rush."

"Dad, I'm twenty now," Fang Yuan said.

"I study in Beijing and only come back twice a year. When you were driving a car, at least there were people in the car, but now that you're in logistics, you don't even have anyone to talk to."

Fang Jianguo fell silent. The living room was quiet; the kitchen faucet wasn't turned off properly, dripping every now and then.

"Your mother has been gone for almost four years," he said, his voice a little hoarse.

"I know."

"I'm not..."

"Dad," Fang Yuan interrupted him, "you don't need to tell me this."

Fang Jianguo looked at his son, and Fang Yuan looked at him too.

"Let's meet on the third day of the Lunar New Year and have a meal together," Fang Yuan said. "If you think it's okay, then decide. Don't overthink it."

Fang Jianguo flicked the cigarette ash into the ashtray, and it took him several tries to get it out.

"And you?" he asked. "If you're feeling unwell—"

"I don't feel unwell."

Fang Yuan stood up, walked to the balcony, and opened the window a crack. Someone was setting off firecrackers outside, and the sea in the distance was shrouded in a hazy gray. He turned and leaned against the windowsill.

"Dad, you have to keep looking forward."

Fang Jianguo looked up at him. The light from the glass shone on his face. Fang Yuan's expression was calm, not like he was putting on a brave face.

"I heard that girl—her younger sister—is doing quite well academically. Having a younger sister is nice too."

Fang Jianguo paused for a moment, then stubbed out his cigarette. He stood up, walked to the kitchen, then came back, seemingly unsure of what to do.

"I'll treat everyone to dinner on the third day of the Lunar New Year. I'll book the venue."

Fang Jianguo looked at his son, his lips moved twice, but he didn't say anything.

Finally, he nodded and turned to go to the kitchen.