One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

Zhuge Zheng was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter, patting Zhuge Ming on the back with a force carrying the unique satisfaction and pride of an elder: "Good, good, good! Little Ming has grown up, really grown up! He truly deserves to be called the unicorn of our Zhuge family! In his words and deeds, he has both party loyalty and human touch—that's true talent! Haha!"

The two chatted and laughed as they turned into a narrow alley. The old house of Zhuge Ming's family was not far ahead, and the wind chimes hanging from the eaves swayed gently in the breeze, making a series of delicate, crisp sounds.

A wisp of smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, and a rich aroma of braised pork trotters with soybeans could be faintly smelled in the air.

Before even entering the door, Zhuge Ming sighed inwardly: "My mom's pig's trotters, after more than twenty years, still taste the same."

Inside the main room, the food had already been set on the table.

A new navy blue tablecloth was laid on the octagonal table, its edges neatly ironed.

Six dishes and a soup were laid out on the table, with substantial portions and simple presentation, lacking the fancy plating of restaurants. However, each dish was one of Zhuge Ming's favorite childhood dishes: braised pig's trotters with soybeans, braised pork belly with preserved mustard greens, steamed whitebait, water spinach with garlic, braised pork belly with bamboo shoots and bamboo shoots, and osmanthus-flavored glutinous rice lotus root. In the middle was a large bowl of steaming hot chicken soup, with a layer of golden chicken oil floating on the surface.

Zhuge Gong stood by the table, his hands behind his back, his back straight, his expression shifting between anticipation and nervousness.

Zhuge Qing and Zhuge Bai stood on his left and right sides behind him, like two protectors.

Zhuge Qing was still wearing that light blue Chinese-style long gown, his hands in the pockets of his overalls, with his signature calm and gentle smile on his lips.

Zhuge Bai would occasionally tiptoe and peek into the doorway, not even bothering to straighten his hat when it was askew, just like a little dog that couldn't contain its curiosity.

The door opened.

Zhuge Ming and Zhuge Zheng stepped across the threshold one after the other.

The light inside the main room was dimmer than outside, but it was enough for everyone to see each other's expressions.

Zhuge Gong stepped forward first, bent slightly at the waist, clasped his hands in a standard clan salute, and said in a proper voice, "Third Uncle."

Zhuge Qing and Zhuge Bai bowed simultaneously, their voices in unison: "Third Uncle, Great-Grandfather."

Zhuge Zheng waved his hand, his face beaming like an old chrysanthemum, his tone full of the hearty and magnanimous spirit of a kind elder: "Oh! No need for so much formality! I'm so happy today—Zhuge Ming is back! We're all family, no need for formalities! Sit down, sit down, let's eat!"

Zhuge Ming slightly turned to the side, made a "please" gesture, and said in a respectful yet dignified tone: "Third Uncle, please."

Zhuge Zheng waited until Zhuge Ming was seated before sitting down in the seat next to him.

This detail was noticed by everyone present—Zhuge Qing's eyebrows twitched, Zhuge Gong's eye twitched, and Zhuge Bai tilted his head, indicating that he didn't quite understand but felt it was very impressive.

Zhuge Gong took a deep breath, turned around and took out two bottles of wine from the cabinet, handling them as carefully as if they were two national treasures.

Those were two bottles of Moutai. The red ribbons on the bottles were still attached, and the seals on the caps were intact. They were clearly old items that had been treasured for many years.

He placed the wine on the table, a warm smile spreading across his face, and said to Zhuge Zheng, "Third Uncle, come on, let's drink until we drop today!"

Before he could finish speaking, Zhuge Zheng's face darkened.

"outrageous!"

Zhuge Zheng slammed his hand on the table, causing the soup in the bowl to slosh around and almost spill over.

He glared at Zhuge Gong, his kind and gentle gaze instantly replaced by a furious, exasperated rage. "How can you be so clueless? Do you think Zhuge Town only has this one village? I have to accompany Zhuge Ming to other villages for research and investigation later. This is work! Drinking? How can we work if we're drunk? What will the people think of us if we go on a research trip reeking of alcohol? How can we face the Party and the people?"

He grew increasingly agitated, pointing a finger at Zhuge Gong, spittle practically flying from his mouth: "Nonsense!"

Zhuge Gong held the two bottles of Moutai in his hands, raising them in mid-air, unsure whether to put them down or not.

His facial expression was incredibly interesting—he couldn't quite laugh or cry, and his lips moved for a long time without uttering a single word.

Those two bottles of Moutai suddenly felt like hot potatoes in his hands, making him extremely uncomfortable.

He stood there, his tall frame appearing somewhat pitiful and cramped.

Zhuge Ming quickly tried to smooth things over.

His voice was gentle and steady, striking a perfect balance between tension and relaxation: "Third Uncle, please don't get excited. Father is probably just too happy to see you—it's been a while since we've seen each other, hasn't it? It's only natural that he's happy to have this rare get-together."

He pointed to the two bottles of Moutai on the table, his tone softening with a touch of warmth and tolerance: "Our country has this kind of drinking culture tradition, and our village has this custom too. It's only natural to have a couple of drinks during festivals and family gatherings. How about this—Father, you, my eldest brother, and Xiaobai, you drink. My third uncle and I will drink tea instead of wine. It won't affect our work this afternoon, nor will it spoil everyone's fun. It's a win-win situation."

Zhuge Bai, who had been listening intently for a while, immediately jumped up from his seat upon hearing this, rubbing his hands together as he moved towards the two bottles of Moutai. He exclaimed confidently, "Great! Then I'll drink with Brother Qing and Father! Second Brother, you and Third Uncle can just watch us drink! Oh my, this is Moutai! I've never had any before—"

His little hand had just reached out, before it even touched the bottle, when Zhuge Gong's hand snapped back as if it were spring-loaded.

"What are you doing drinking, kid! You're not even grown up yet, eat your food properly!"

While scolding him, Zhuge Gong deftly put the two bottles of Moutai back into the cabinet. His movements were swift and his attitude resolute, a stark contrast to the man who had been scolded by his third uncle and dared not raise his head.

Zhuge Bai's hand was still frozen in mid-air, and the smile on his face hadn't even had time to fade before it froze.

He turned to look at his father's back as he locked the wine bottle in the cabinet. His lips trembled slightly, and he had a million things he wanted to say, but he didn't dare to utter a single word.

His expression shifted through four distinct phases in just a few seconds: ecstasy, confusion, resentment, and utter despair. Only one thought echoed repeatedly in his mind: favoritism! Is this what it means to not love someone anymore? Waaah.

Zhuge Zheng chuckled as he picked up his chopsticks and placed a piece of pig's trotter into Zhuge Ming's bowl. His tone returned to its kind and gentle tone: "Come, come, eat! Try your mother's cooking. You haven't had it in so many years, have you? Your mother went to the market at five in the morning to prepare this meal. She spent a full half hour choosing this pig's trotter."

Zhuge Ming glanced down at the bright red, trembling pig's trotter in the bowl, and could already smell the familiar five-spice aroma before even taking a bite.