Live Stream: Overly Pampered Education Creates Three Superstars in One Family

When Chen Chu pushed open the door, a mixture of the aroma of soy sauce, oil, and hot rice wafted out.

He paused for a moment in the entryway. Before he had even finished changing his shoes, he peeked into the kitchen. The stove was off, the pot lids were tightly closed, and five dishes and a soup were laid out on the table. The chopsticks were neatly arranged around the bowls, the spacing between them as even as if measured with a ruler.

The braised pork ribs were reduced to the perfect consistency, resulting in a glossy reddish-brown color; the steamed sea bass was sprinkled with bright green scallion and red pepper strips, and the aroma of the hot oil still lingered in the air; next to it were a plate of garlic water spinach, a plate of scrambled eggs with tomatoes, and a dish of cucumber salad, with a bowl of seaweed soup with egg drop soup in the middle.

Chen Chu stood in the entryway, still holding his keys, his gaze sweeping over the dishes on the dining table before finally settling on Chen Ziran, who was standing at the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands with an apron.

He was silent for a moment, then threw the keys on the shoe cabinet, strode over, reached out, and pressed his hand on Chen Ziran's head, giving it a hard rub.

"You little rascal, how are you so outstanding?" His voice was filled with undisguised, even exaggerated, emotion. "I just left home and you've already prepared dinner? You're so thoughtful, it almost makes me cry."

When he said this, his tone did have a slight nasal resonance, but his eyes clearly held a smile, making it impossible to tell whether he genuinely wanted to cry or was acting.

Chen Ziran's head tilted slightly after being rubbed, his chin raised a little, and he said in a "what's the big deal?" tone, "Dad, what are you talking about? When have I ever not been outstanding?"

Chen Chu withdrew his hand, looked him up and down, and nodded: "That's true."

The live stream chat exploded instantly.

No, Ziran, you weren't like this before! You've changed!

I remember when someone praised Ziran before, he would shyly scratch his head and say, "No, not at all." But now? Now he's started saying how great he is!

Ziran, you've gotten too big for your britches! You've really gotten too big for your britches!

[Ziran, don't believe your dad's nonsense! He's just fooling you! He's trying to flatter you to death! Don't fall for it!]

【Ziran, if you keep doing this, I'm really going to control you! Give me back the Ziran you used to be!】

Wang Zihao stood not far from the door, his hand still resting on the handle of his suitcase. His gaze swept over the dishes on the dining table, then over Chen Ziran who was being praised. He then curled his lip, let out a barely audible snort, and turned his head to scan the living room.

What's so great about it?

He muttered to himself.

It's just cooking a meal.

It's not like we did anything earth-shattering.

Ultimately, cooking is just about saving money on takeout.

With food delivery so readily available these days, you can order whatever you want to eat, and a delivery rider will arrive in half an hour.

Using the time spent cooking to do something else, even reading a few more pages of a book or playing a couple more games, creates more "value" than standing in the kitchen inhaling cooking fumes.

It's such a small thing that they have to praise it; there's really nothing to praise.

Although he was thinking this, his gaze unconsciously lingered on the dishes on the table for a moment, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, before he quickly looked away.

Chen Xiayu stood beside the dining table, wearing a pink bunny apron and holding a wooden spatula longer than her forearm. A few stray hairs clung to her forehead, and her little face was flushed from the steam of cooking. She looked up and saw her father come in and praise her brother, then watched her father's hands gently rubbing her brother's head. A hint of envy flashed in her big, dark eyes.

She put down the wooden shovel, ran over, and hugged Chen Chu's leg, tilting her head back: "Daddy, I want one too! I want one too!"

Chen Chu looked down at the little girl clinging to his leg, her face tilted upwards. He couldn't help but chuckle, bending down to gently tap her little nose with his finger: "Our little girl is the best little girl in Daddy's eyes!"

He crouched down, looked Chen Xiayu straight in the eye, and his expression was as serious as if he were reading out an important commendation order.

"Daddy knew from the start that Nannan could cook. But I was still shocked when I got home. How could Nannan's cooking smell so good? It's practically at the level of a state banquet chef!" He picked up Chen Xiaoyu, and Chen Xiaoyu's little hands naturally wrapped around his neck. "Nannan is simply an angel. Who wouldn't love a Nannan like this?"

Chen Xiayu was embarrassed by the praise and buried her face in Chen Chu's neck, letting out a series of silly giggles, like a kitten whose chin had been scratched, twisting and turning on her father's shoulder.

Chen Chu turned his head and kissed her chubby little face, making a crisp "pop" sound. "My little girl is so sweet! She's practically Daddy's little angel!"

Wang Zihao stood to the side, watching this scene. He pursed his lips and looked away.

They didn't say anything.

The atmosphere during the meal wasn't as awkward as Wang Zihao had anticipated.

He was actually prepared not to eat, or rather, he felt he should make a gesture of "being forced to stay and protesting by going on a hunger strike".

But when Chen Chu came out of the kitchen with the last bowl of soup and placed it in the center of the table, the steam rose up and the aroma of the food reached a saturation point. His stomach, to his dismay, let out a clear gurgling sound.

Chen Chu started eating first, picking up a piece of rib and putting it in his mouth. After chewing it a couple of times, he nodded in satisfaction, then gave Chen Ziran a thumbs up, and then gave Chen Xiayu, who was sitting in the high chair, a thumbs up as well.

Then he picked up the bowl himself and ate heartily, eating with complete ease and comfort, without any intention of urging Wang Zihao to eat.

Wang Zihao sat at the table, remained silent for a moment, and finally picked up his bowl.

When he took his first bite, he didn't notice anything special; it was just ordinary rice, cooked to the perfect consistency. But when he picked up a piece of scrambled eggs with tomatoes and put it in his mouth, he paused slightly. It wasn't the kind of amazing, overwhelming sensation, but rather a feeling that was hard to describe. You couldn't quite pinpoint what was special about it as you chewed, but it just made you want to take another bite.

The flavor is different from the wok hei of stir-fries cooked over high heat in restaurants, and also different from the soft texture of takeout food soaked in broth. It carries a simple, homey warmth.

The sounds of people eating nearby—chewing, chopsticks hitting the rim of bowls—filled the previously empty space, creating a kind of atmosphere that Wang Zihao hadn't truly experienced in a long time.

He didn't know if it was because he was hungry, but he ate two bowls of rice in one go.

Halfway through the meal, Chen Xiayu's gaze fell on the steamed sea bass in the center of the table. Sitting in her high chair, she couldn't quite reach it, so she pointed in that direction with her little hand, then turned to look at Chen Chu.

Just as Chen Chu was about to put down his chopsticks to help, Wang Zihao, sitting on the other side of the table, almost instinctively reached out and gently pushed the fish plate towards Chen Xiayu. His action was so natural that he probably didn't even realize what he had done. By the time he reacted, the fish plate had already been pushed to the center of the table, leaning towards Chen Xiayu.

Chen Xiayu glanced at the fish plate in front of her, then looked up at Chen Chu with a childlike confusion and inquiry in her eyes, as if asking a question.

Who is he? Why is he helping me? Can I eat it?

Chen Chu put down his chopsticks, glanced at Wang Zihao, and a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips.

He didn't point out anything, but just smiled and said to Chen Xiayu, "It's okay if you don't thank me. After all, we're family now. Family doesn't need so many thanks."

Wang Zihao's chopsticks paused in mid-air.

The barrage of comments reached its first climax of the night at this moment.

[Holy crap, Wang Zihao is such a lucky kid! He ran away from home and someone picked him up, and he even got such a nice meal when he got home!]

[Aww, my little sister is so cute when she cooks! That little apron, that wooden spatula, that flour on her nose—I have to take a screenshot!]

My younger sister is a little chef! Hmm! When will the government send me a daughter like that? I'm waiting online, it's urgent!

[Don't even think about it, you upstairs. There's only one sister, and she's with Chen Chu. You have no chance.]

No matter how I look at it, it's all Chen Gou's fault! If he hadn't raised her so well, how could my sister be so adorable! It's all his fault that I don't have a daughter like her!

Am I the only one who noticed Wang Zihao's action of pushing the fish plate? He said he was disdainful, but his hands told a different story.

[Wang Zihao: I just did it on a whim. Comments: Okay, okay, you did it on a whim.]

Chen Chu picked up a piece of fish, carefully removed the bones, and placed it in Chen Xiayu's small bowl.

Chen Xiayu clumsily but earnestly picked up a piece of fish with her small children's chopsticks, put it in her mouth, chewed it a couple of times, her eyes sparkling, and mumbled, "Delicious!"

Wang Zihao kept his head down as he ate his rice, but he unconsciously slowed down the speed at which he picked up food.

My gaze fell on the already pitch-black sky outside the window.

The restaurant lights and shadows on the tables were reflected in the glass window. Chen Chu was picking fish bones out of Chen Xiayu's bones, while Chen Ziran was putting the last piece of rib into his own bowl. He himself was sitting at the corner of the table, his bowl of rice almost empty.

He hadn't imagined himself sitting at such a table eating for a long time.