He fiercely criticized the Manchu scholar clique and the twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty.

Two bottles of room-temperature Snow Beer were quickly emptied as the family of three chatted casually.

The broth from the braised flatfish simmered under the gentle heat of the alcohol stove, sending up plumes of steam carrying the aroma of soy sauce. Zhao Shuyao put down his empty glass, glanced at the equally empty glass in front of Old Zhao, and braced himself on the edge of the table, making as if to stand up.

"Dad, I'll go get two more bottles from the freezer."

Old Zhao picked up a potato with his chopsticks and put it in his mouth, then raised the back of his rough hand and gently blocked it in mid-air.

"Alright, enough with the beer." Old Zhao swallowed the food in his mouth, pointed to the row of slightly dusty liquor shelves behind the counter, and said, "We're happy today, let's have some baijiu."

Zhao Shuyao nodded in understanding, pulled out a chair, and walked towards the counter.

His gaze swept across the liquor shelf. In this hole-in-the-wall restaurant from 2016, besides the Niulanshan liquor costing a dozen yuan, there were also Haizhilan and Jiannanchun liquors costing several hundred yuan on the next shelf. Zhao Shuyao's finger had already instinctively hovered above the beautifully packaged Jiannanchun.

Just as his fingers were about to touch the box.

"Yaoyao, don't use those fancy things." Old Zhao's voice came through clearly.

Zhao Shuyao stopped what he was doing and turned his head.

Old Zhao sat at the table and pointed to the lower left corner with the hand holding chopsticks: "Take that little sky blue one, it's good. Whether we're at home or working away from home, we can drink this wine and it suits our taste."

Zhao Shuyao looked in the direction Old Zhao pointed. It was a bottled liquor produced by a local winery in northern Jiangsu. It was a clear blue glass bottle with no extra packaging. A bottle cost only about thirty yuan. This was the most common staple liquor on the dining tables of working-class people in northern Jiangsu. It was cheap but not strong.

As Zhao Shuyao looked at the bottle of wine, the idea of ​​providing his parents with an "experience of upward social mobility" quickly dissipated from his mind. He knew very well that for older generations like Old Zhao, drinking the wine they were used to was far more comfortable than drinking famous wines.

"Okay, whatever you say." Zhao Shuyao didn't argue. His fingers naturally moved down, and he picked up the bottle of "Little Sky Blue" in his hand. He then took three clean, transparent small wine glasses from the counter and returned to his seat.

People in northern Jiangsu have a drinking etiquette that emphasizes smoothness. There was a large winery in my hometown, and in that area, most men and women have a certain capacity for alcohol.

Zhao Shuyao unscrewed the blue plastic bottle cap, and a refreshing aroma instantly filled the area around the small square table. He first filled the small cup in front of Old Zhao.

Then, holding the wine bottle, he turned to look at his mother sitting on the other side.

"Mom," Zhao Shuyao said with a gentle smile, "Since you're not going back to the construction site this afternoon anyway, and I'm here today, why don't you join me for a drink?"

The mother glanced at the bottle of wine, then at Old Zhao across from her, who looked relaxed. The wrinkles at the corners of her eyes crinkled together with a smile.

"Okay, then have a little." The mother nodded without any hesitation, and directly reached out, turned the small upside-down glass in front of her over, and pushed it forward.

Zhao Shuyao poured himself a small half-cup, and finally filled his own glass to the brim.

The family of three raised their small wine glasses and gently clinked them together.

After taking a sip of the liquor, the warmth of the baijiu slid down her esophagus into her stomach, completely dispelling the slight chill of early spring. Her mother put down her cup, took a tissue from the tissue box next to her, and carefully wiped the corner of her mouth.

After completing these actions, the mother raised her head, her gaze passing over the rising aroma of the food and quietly landing on Zhao Shuyao's face.

"Yaoyao, Mom has something to tell you." The mother spoke, her tone, which had been casual, now carrying a hint of seriousness.

Zhao Shuyao put down his wine glass and leaned forward slightly: "Mom, please speak."

The mother glanced at Old Zhao beside her. Old Zhao was currently looking down at a piece of beef on his plate, not looking up, but his chewing movements had obviously slowed down.

"I just overheard you talking to your dad about starting a business. Your dad and I didn't have much formal education, so we only half-understood what you said," the mother said calmly, with the sincerity typical of people from the lower classes. "But one thing I do understand is that any business, any business that involves building a team and getting things done, definitely requires capital and working capital."

The mother paused for a moment, as if organizing her thoughts.

"These past few years, your father and I have been working on construction sites here, and we've saved up some money." The mother looked into Zhao Shuyao's eyes, her gaze full of entrustment. "Originally, we planned to use this money to help you with a down payment on a house here after you graduate, if you stay at the university."

Upon hearing this, Zhao Shuyao's mind had already anticipated what his mother was about to say.

Sure enough, her mother continued, "Since you're now determined to be your own boss and start that cultural studio, it will cost money everywhere. You can use this money for buying the house first."

The mother reached out and tapped lightly on the table.

"There's no rush to buy a house. You've just graduated, you have a long life ahead of you. As for the money to buy a house in the future, your dad and I will find a way to save it up for you." After saying that, the mother turned to look at Old Zhao.

Old Zhao remained silent, but picked up his small wine glass and took another sip.

Watching his parents' incredibly tacit interaction, Zhao Shuyao realized that in 2016, for a family that worked on construction sites tying steel bars and carrying bricks, the hundreds of thousands of yuan they had spent on buying a house represented all the confidence they had built up with their sweat and blood over most of their lives.

This money embodies all their hopes for a stable future for their son.

Now, because of the phrase "starting their own business," they have decided to hand over this confidence without reservation.

If he were to tell his parents the truth—that he earns tens of thousands of yuan from a single article on Toutiao and that with the explosive growth of short videos, earning a million yuan a month is only a matter of time and that he doesn't need the money at all—that would undoubtedly be the most "noble" approach.

But what are the consequences of refusing?

The elderly couple simply couldn't grasp the monetization logic of the internet in a short time. In their traditional understanding, you can't do business without capital.

If their son doesn't take money from home, a seed of extreme unease will be planted in their hearts—they will feel that their son is going out and borrowing money from others to appease them.

This sense of uncertainty is more tormenting for parents from underprivileged backgrounds than physical exhaustion.

Sometimes, accepting the other person's contributions is not because of your own lack, but to give them a sense of "value" and security in the family. This is a higher level of empathy.

Having finished his analysis, Zhao Shuyao's nerves completely relaxed.

"Okay." Zhao Shuyao didn't say anything like "I can manage without your money," but nodded decisively with a natural smile on his lips. "Well, I happen to be short of some money as start-up capital, so I'll take this money."

Seeing Zhao Shuyao nod in agreement, his mother visibly relaxed, her previously taut shoulders slumping. Although Old Zhao was still eating, his hand holding the chopsticks was noticeably more relaxed.

Zhao Shuyao then picked up his wine glass and clinked it against the glasses of his father and mother.

"But we have to get this straight up," Zhao Shuyao said, holding his wine glass with a serious yet slightly roguish look in his eyes. "Consider this money as start-up capital that I, as the boss, am borrowing from you two shareholders."

"Once I've stabilized this studio and made a lot of money, I'll not only return your principal, but I'll also give you double the dividends."

He took a sip of wine, put down his glass, and smiled even more broadly: "When the time comes, you two won't have to work on construction sites anymore. You can retire directly. I'll buy you a nice house with a yard in Suzhou, and you can just drink tea every day."

His mother laughed at his words and waved her hands repeatedly, saying, "We haven't even made any money yet, and you're already making empty promises."

Old Zhao, who had been silent all along, put down his chopsticks at this moment.

"What money?" Old Zhao's voice wasn't loud, but it carried the decisiveness of a head of the family. Looking at Zhao Shuyao, his tone was very straightforward, "Your mother and I only have one son in our lives. What are we working so hard on this construction site from dawn till dusk for? Isn't it so that you can have a better life in the future?"

Old Zhao picked up the wine glass in front of him and twirled it between his fingers a couple of times.

"Even if we leave behind a lot of money, it will all be yours after we pass away, won't it?" Old Zhao raised his head, his bloodshot but extremely bright eyes staring at Zhao Shuyao. "So, take this money and use it; there's no need to mention paying it back."

Zhao Shuyao looked at his father quietly, clearly understanding the deepest essence of a traditional Chinese father.

Old Zhao put down his wine glass and straightened his back slightly.

"Since you're planning to do business seriously," Old Zhao said, his voice steady, "Although I don't understand your so-called online stuff, the principles of doing business have always been the same. Let me tell you a few things from my heart."

Zhao Shuyao abandoned his casual demeanor, sat up straight, and nodded in response, "Dad, please speak, I'm listening."

Old Zhao stared at the blue wine bottle in front of him, seemingly organizing his thoughts, before slowly uttering a proverb that circulated in the countryside of northern Jiangsu.

"Remember this: when drinking, aim to get drunk; when gambling, aim to lose."

The moment these eight words were uttered, the atmosphere at the dinner table underwent a subtle change. This was not a word of encouragement, but a profound and insightful underlying philosophy.

Zhao Shuyao's mind raced as he tried to grasp the weight of his father's words.

Old Zhao didn't stop, continuing to dissect the logic behind these eight words: "Starting a business is not the same as drinking and gambling, but people's minds are the same. When you go into business, you have to be aware of the risks."

"You need to be prepared for what constitutes a success; but if you really mess it up, you also need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario." Old Zhao tapped his finger heavily on the table twice.

"Even if one day your business fails and you lose money, you can't just drift along aimlessly. You have to clearly understand exactly where you stumbled."

Old Zhao's eyes became extremely serious, carrying a kind of insight that transcended social classes.

"As long as you can find your own mistakes in your failures, as long as you understand where you went wrong," Old Zhao leaned forward slightly, his tone resolute, "then your fall wasn't in vain. Even if we lose all the money we spent on buying the house, it was still worth it!"

Looking at his father, who was dressed in old clothes and whose hands were covered in calluses, Zhao Shuyao realized that in a society that only values ​​success and regards failure as original sin, this uneducated farmer father had used the most straightforward words to provide his son, who was about to step into a promising opportunity, with the highest level of risk hedging and psychological stress reduction.

This kind of spiritual support from one's family of origin is more powerful than any endorsement.

A warm feeling welled up in Zhao Shuyao's heart, but he didn't let the atmosphere become too heavy; he knew all too well how to defuse such seriousness.

Zhao Shuyao picked up the "Little Sky Blue" again, filled Lao Zhao's cup, and chuckled softly.

"Dad, you're really taking things a step too far," Zhao Shuyao said with a smirk, his tone carrying a scholarly humor. "My studio hasn't even had its signboard up yet, and you're already teaching me how to write a bankruptcy liquidation report. Can't you wish me well for once?"

Old Zhao was rebuffed by his words and realized that his earlier statement had been somewhat discouraging.

Old Zhao picked up his freshly filled wine glass, took a sip as a cover-up, waved his hands repeatedly, and spoke a little faster: "That's not what I meant. Everyone hopes their son will do big business. What I really wanted to say was..."

Old Zhao paused for a moment and looked at Zhao Shuyao.

What I really mean is that I want you to be prepared. Your mother and I are giving you the money because we trust you. As long as you walk the right path, even if the money goes down the drain, your mother and I will never blame you.

Old Zhao's voice softened, "Don't put too much pressure on yourself while you're out there making your own way. Even if the sky falls, your mother and I will work here for a couple more years, and you'll still have a hot meal at home."

Zhao Shuyao looked at Old Zhao's reddened eyes, then turned to look at his mother with gentle eyes.

Outside the window, tower cranes in the building materials market slowly rotated, and dust flew everywhere on the construction site; inside, a family of three sat around this greasy little square table, using thirty yuan worth of liquor to complete the most important handover of their lives.

"Okay." Zhao Shuyao picked up his cup, his tone firm and composed. "With your assurances, I'm confident I can get this done."

The three glasses clinked together again.