Extraterrestrial demons invaded; I laid the groundwork eight years in advance.

7 PM, Tangxi Old Town.

When Zhou Zheng rode his electric bike back, he just passed the last rays of dawn below, and the whole city was shrouded in that ambiguous gray-blue hue where day and night meet.

The basket on his bicycle was piled with the things he had just bought from the market—a bunch of greens, half a pound of pork belly, a block of tofu, and a few scallions.

As the vehicles passed through gaps and mud pits, they made a bumpy sound as they collided with each other at the bottom of the baskets.

Downstairs by the flower bed, several middle-aged women who had just finished eating sat around on small stools, patting their knees and chatting about everyday life.

Seeing Zhou Zheng stop the car, one of them said, "Little Zhou's back?"

Zhou Zheng smiled and said, "Aunt Zhang, you're sitting down."

"You bought so many groceries, are you going to cook for your wife and kids?"

"Yes, you guys chat first, I'm going back."

He took the vegetables out of the basket, felt the medicine in his pocket, and turned to walk towards the stairwell.

The motion-activated light came on, casting a dim yellow glow on the steps. From the half-closed stairwell door behind me, I could hear intermittent whispers.

"Sigh... my silly son is already eighteen, and I heard he still needs to be fed..."

  

"...His second wife was also..."

"...It's a pity that Xiao Zhou is such a good person..."

"...That's right, let me tell you, last time I saw..."

Zhou Zheng walked to the corner on the second floor, and the sound gradually disappeared.

He didn't stop walking, taking one step at a time, his knees feeling slightly heavy.

He had heard similar things countless times over the years, with little difference in content, and he no longer felt embarrassed by them.

Going up to the third floor, the round, motion-activated ceiling light in the corner has been broken for more than half a month, and no one from the community has come to fix it.

He fumbled for his key in the dark, tried to insert it twice but failed. Finally, on the third try, he got it in and opened the door.

The house isn't big, just two bedrooms and a living room, about 80 square meters.

After selling his old house to pay for his son's medical treatment, he searched for a long time before finding this place—it was reasonably priced, convenient for commuting to work, and most importantly, close to the hospital where he received rehabilitation.

As long as you can live comfortably, that's enough.

He stepped into the room, and a pungent smell of greasy instant noodles mixed with a musty, damp odor hit him.

Several pairs of shoes were scattered haphazardly on the ground, and the faucet in the bathroom next door was probably not turned off tightly, as a slight dripping sound could be heard.

Zhou Zheng placed the groceries on the shoe cabinet in the entryway, changed into slippers, bent down to gather the scattered shoes to one side, and then walked into the living room.

The smell of instant noodles in the living room grew stronger—his wife, Wang Lili, was lying on the sofa in an old nightgown, scrolling through her phone.

She glanced at Zhou Zheng, then looked back at her phone screen, as if she were seeing a stranger on the street.

A bowl of instant noodles sat on the coffee table. The soup had gone cold, and a few noodles dangled from the rim of the bowl, lying on the table and leaving marks of dried soup.

Zhou Zheng didn't say anything, his gaze shifting further into the living room.

The son, Zhou Ping'an, sat on a chair at the dining table, his upper body leaning on the table, the back of his head facing the door, his back rising and falling with his breath, like a small animal curled up in a corner.

It looks like she's asleep.

He also had a bowl of instant noodles in front of him, half of which was still in the bowl. He was holding a plastic spoon and fork in his hand, his face was dirty, and his clothes were covered in soup stains.

Zhou Zheng walked over, gently pried open Ping An's fingers, took the fork, wiped his hands clean with a tissue, wiped the oil off his face, then picked up a rag, wiped the table clean, and threw the residue into the trash can.

"Why are we having instant noodles for lunch again?" he asked softly as he straightened up.

Wang Lili seemed to be angered by this question.

She sat up and glared at Zhou Zheng: "Eat, eat, eat! All he does all day is eat. What else can he do besides eat? Don't you know how much money we've spent on your son's medical treatment over the years? If he can eat, he can eat; if he can't, he can go hungry."

Zhou Zheng didn't reply, but silently picked up the bowl of instant noodles and poured it into the trash can.

Ping An, who was lying on the table, was awakened by the noise. He groggily raised his head and looked like an eighteen-year-old boy with fair skin and a round face, like a freshly steamed white steamed bun.

The moment he saw Zhou Zheng, a simple, honest smile spread across his face, and he opened his arms wide: "Daddy... come back... hug me..."

Zhou Zheng looked at Ping An, a smile appearing on his face. He bent down and gently hugged him, then stroked Ping An's head and said, "Daddy's back. Ping An, are you hungry?"

"Hungry... I'm hungry..."

"Ping An, wait patiently for a while, and Daddy will go make you some food, okay?"

"Okay... Ping An will be good..." Ping An clapped her hands, her eyes crinkling into a smile.

Zhou Zheng patted Ping An's head, then got up and went into the kitchen.

The kitchen window faces north, and the evening breeze squeezes in through the cracks, carrying the damp, musty smell from the exterior walls of the residential complex.

He first washed his hands, then rinsed and cooked the rice, took the vegetables out of the plastic bag, washed them one by one, placed them on the cutting board, and started a fire to heat the pot.

Slice the pork belly and stir-fry it in a pan until the oil is rendered. Remove half of the pork belly and set it aside. Add the chopped scallions and stir-fry until fragrant. Finally, add the cubed tofu, seasonings, stir-fry, and serve.

He washed the pot clean and then used the remaining oil residue to stir-fry a plate of greens.

The rice cooker tripped with a "beep," and he opened the lid. Hot steam billowed out onto the window, creating a layer of white mist.

Wang Lili's voice came from the living room: "How much longer?"

"alright."

Zhou Zheng brought the food to the table and first served Ping An a bowl.

Ping An only knows how to use a spoon, and half of it falls out when he scoops up a spoonful. Zhou Zheng sits next to him, picking up the rice grains that fall on the table and putting them into his own bowl. Occasionally, he supports Ping An's wrist and carefully teaches him how to eat.

"Just leave him be, let him eat by himself." Wang Lili picked up a piece of food with her chopsticks. "He's spoiled rotten, he's eighteen and still can't eat by himself."

Zhou Zheng listened to Wang Lili's words without saying anything.

The mother of the baby was born prematurely and the bleeding couldn't be stopped. The doctors did their best, but they still couldn't save her. However, the baby still had a heartbeat when it was delivered by cesarean section. It stayed in the incubator for more than two months and finally survived.

However, due to premature birth, Ping An's brain development was incomplete, and her intellectual level remained at the age of three.

Zhou Zheng always remembers what the doctor said: "Brain damage is irreversible, but with persistent rehabilitation training and more guidance in daily life, it is still possible to take care of oneself."

After that, he sold the house and continued to undergo check-ups and rehabilitation treatments, but the high medical expenses were still unaffordable for him, and he had little money left from selling the house.

Seeing that Zhou Zheng didn't say anything, Wang Lili's temper flared up, and she slammed her chopsticks on the table.

"Look at you, this is how your whole life has been—going home to buy groceries, cook, and feed your silly son." She pointed at Zhou Zheng. "I really believed my mother's lies back then, saying you had a secure job, but all you ended up with was this burden."