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

Wang Wenwu stood under the streetlight, his gaze lingering on Chen Ziran for a few seconds with a scrutinizing quality. But the scrutiny wasn't offensive; it was more like an experienced person examining an unpolished rough stone, trying to assess its texture and patterns. He nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips, revealing a hint of initial goodwill and polite conversation.

"Have you eaten?" Wang Wenwu's voice was gentler than it had been on the phone, carrying a deep and steady quality typical of an elder.

"I've finished eating, Uncle," Chen Ziran replied naturally, "and just finished washing the dishes."

Upon hearing this, a hint of surprise flashed in Wang Wenwu's eyes, which quickly turned into undisguised praise: "You even help wash the dishes at home? You're so obedient."

Chen Ziran was a little embarrassed by the compliment "So obedient," scratched the back of his head, and smiled: "It's alright, it's alright. I even cook sometimes."

"Oh?" Wang Wenwu was genuinely surprised this time, raising his eyebrows slightly. "It's not uncommon for someone your age to be able to cook. My boys can even boil a pot dry while cooking frozen dumplings."

Chen Ziran didn't know how to respond, so he could only smile. His gaze passed over Wang Wenwu's shoulder, glancing at the car parked by the roadside. He quickly assessed the brand and approximate price in his mind; it wasn't cheap, probably starting at over a hundred thousand yuan. He silently withdrew his gaze, not letting his surprise show on his face.

After Wang Wenwu finished speaking, his gaze passed over Chen Ziran's shoulder and landed on Chen Chu, who was walking out of the corridor.

Their eyes met for a moment under the streetlight, and then Wang Wenwu extended his hand: "You must be Chen Chu? Hello, my name is Wang Wenwu. I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you these past few days, please forgive me."

Chen Chu grasped his hand, his grip neither too strong nor too weak, just the right amount of pressure, like someone who had shaken hands countless times: "It's nothing, a minor problem."

He turned his head to look at Chen Ziran and smiled, "But don't worry, Ziran won't cause you any trouble. I trust this kid."

Wang Wenwu nodded, but he didn't stop there. He looked at Chen Chu and added in a serious tone, "I believe Ziran. What I meant was, I'm causing you trouble."

The statement was said subtly, but the meaning was clear: he was referring to Wang Zihao, his rebellious son, who would cause Chen Chu trouble.

Upon hearing this, Chen Chu's lips twitched slightly. He didn't reply. It would be a lie to say it wasn't troublesome, but it wouldn't be an exaggeration either. He couldn't bring himself to use such social politeness, especially after he had already met Wang Zihao and knew what kind of temperament the boy was.

He simply nodded slightly, not dwelling on the matter any further.

Upstairs, Wang Zihao stood behind the living room curtains. Afraid that his movements would disturb the people downstairs, he stared at the three figures under the streetlights through the gap in the curtains. Wang Wenwu and Chen Chu shook hands, Wang Wenwu patted Chen Ziran on the shoulder, Chen Ziran opened the car door, and Wang Wenwu went around to the driver's side.

He watched as his father bent down to get into the driver's seat, started the engine, the headlights came on, and then the black sedan slowly drove out of the streetlights' illumination, merged into the traffic on the street, and disappeared into the night.

He drew the curtains, turned around, and stood with his back against the wall, his gaze fixed on the white-painted wall opposite him in the living room. A cold smile tugged at the corner of Wang Zihao's lips, and he muttered in a voice only he could hear, "They're really lenient with other people's kids, praising them even for washing the dishes."

He paused, his voice lowering even further, "and he was subtly criticizing me."

The black sedan drove smoothly through the city streets.

The slight sound of air coming out of the car's air conditioning vents and the low, muffled tire noise as the tires roll over the road.

Chen Ziran sat in the passenger seat, his seatbelt fastened, his hands on his knees, his gaze passing by the receding street scene through the car window. Streetlights, roadside trees, shop signs, and deliverymen on electric bikes flashed past the car.

The car window was cracked open, and the night wind blew in through the gap, carrying the unique mixed smells of the city at night: the smoky aroma of barbecue stalls, the damp scent of grass and trees, and the lingering warmth of the asphalt road after being baked by the daytime sun.

The wind brushed past his ears, ruffling the stray hairs on his forehead. He leaned back in his seat, finding it much more comfortable than the seats in his electric car—they offered better support, the leather was soft, and even the damping of the seatbelt buckle had a refined weight to it.

It's nice to have money.

He sighed silently in his heart, but before he could dwell on that sigh for long, another thought came to him: How is my sister?

I forgot to remind my dad before I left.

He suddenly felt a pang of regret.

If he's gone, and Dad is taking care of my sister alone, what if something happens? What if my sister gets a fever in the middle of the night, or accidentally bumps or falls down? Will Dad be able to manage all that alone?

He had never thought about these things before because he had always been at home.

But now, sitting in someone else's car, heading to an unfamiliar place, he suddenly realized...

Was I too hasty in agreeing to this exchange?

The idea, like a seed, fell into his heart and quickly took root and sprouted.

Before he could continue thinking, Wang Wenwu's voice came from the driver's seat, interrupting his thoughts.

How much pocket money do you get each month?

Chen Ziran paused for a moment, then turned to look at Wang Wenwu in the driver's seat. He habitually scratched the back of his head, his tone a little embarrassed: "My allowance? I spend whatever my dad gives me. I don't save much."

He paused, then added in a lower voice, "Usually around seven or eight hundred a month? Sometimes a little less, sometimes a little more..."

After listening, Wang Wenwu nodded slightly, his gaze still fixed on the road ahead: "Much better than Zihao. He spends tens of thousands a month, I don't even know where it all goes. He eats mediocre food, and his clothes aren't much better either. He eats takeout with lots of oil and salt every day, and his face is always greasy."

He paused, a hint of helplessness and confusion in his voice, "The money's been spent, but there's been no result..."

Chen Ziran chuckled awkwardly, unsure of what expression to make. He could only mumble, "That's quite a lot..." before falling silent.

The car continued moving forward.

The street scene outside the window gradually transitioned from a bustling commercial district to a quiet residential area. The light from the streetlights filtered through the gaps in the leaves of the roadside trees, casting dappled and flowing shadows inside the car, brushing across Chen Ziran's profile.

Meanwhile, in Chen Chu's kitchen.

The sink was piled high with foam, a white expanse, as if someone had poured an entire bottle of laundry detergent into it.

The dishes at the bottom of the pool were completely submerged under the dense foam, their outlines completely obscured.

The tap was still running, the water washing away the foam, but the foam was growing much faster than the water was washing away. It was spreading outwards along the edge of the sink with unstoppable force, and some clumps of foam had already crossed the boundary and were slowly flowing towards the stove.

Chen Xiayu stood on her low stool, still holding a damp rag in her hand, but she had given up trying to rinse it further. She just stood there blankly, glancing at Chen Chu and then at Wang Zihao, before pointing her little finger toward the sink and saying in a calm, factual tone, "Dish soap, lots."

When she uttered the word "more," coupled with her water-drenched face, it sounded like the conclusion of an objective and impartial investigation report—just one word, no more, no less, but enough to summarize the entire battlefield situation.

Chen Chu walked over, glanced at the sink, and then his gaze fell on the bottle of dish soap on the stove. The bottle was full of dish soap before he left, but now it was visibly much smaller.

He paused for a moment, silently estimating in his mind how much he had poured in.

At least half a bucket...

Wang Zihao stood by the pool, his hands still hanging in mid-air, his fingers still covered in foam. He looked like a sculpture frozen at the scene of a crime, exuding a strong sense of awkwardness and unease from head to toe.

When Chen Xiayu uttered the word "many," his face flushed red in milliseconds. The redness started from his ears and quickly spread to his entire face, even his neck turning slightly red.

He didn't dare look at Chen Xiayu, nor did he dare look at Chen Chu. His gaze was fixed on the bubbles that kept rising in the pool, as if the bubbles would disappear on their own if he stared at them long enough.

【Wait, is this much dish soap meant to wash an aircraft carrier through a container?】

[Does this person think that the more dish soap they use, the cleaner the wash will be? They clearly have no life experience whatsoever...]

[My little sister was completely dumbfounded standing next to me, haha, her little expression was priceless. "Too much dish soap," that's such a perfect assessment.]

To be honest, this was somewhat counterproductive. While I can understand why he did it this way—after all, he's never done housework before—at his age, to handle things like this is just plain stupid.

[Same as above. My aversion to stupidity is acting up. Washing dishes and pouring half a bucket of dish soap??? Is this washing dishes or taking a bubble bath???]

Chen Chu stood in front of the pool, looking at the pile of foam, then at Wang Zihao's face, which was so red it looked like it was about to bleed, and remained silent for two seconds.

Then he reached out and patted Wang Zihao on the shoulder.

"This is the first time I've ever seen a bowl that's been washed so clean."

Chen Chu's voice carried a sincere and heartfelt appreciation, as if he were truly standing in front of a work of art, giving it full affirmation.

Wang Zihao paused for a moment, then looked up at Chen Chu. His expression changed from embarrassment to confusion. He thought he would be scolded, at least told something like, "Use less dish soap next time," in a helpless tone. But Chen Chu didn't.

Chen Chu picked up a bowl covered in foam, rinsed it under the tap, shook off the water, held it up to the light to examine it, and then gave it a thumbs up.

"Look at this bowl, it's so white you could use it as a mirror. Touching it feels like it's brand new."

He picked up another plate, rinsed it clean, and held it up to examine it closely. "This plate isn't oily at all."

He put the plates and bowls back on the dish rack, turned around, and looked at Wang Zihao again with a serious expression on his face.

"You managed to wash the dishes this well on your first try. You're really talented at this. You did a fantastic job."