Chapter 490: Routine

Wang Yan

Attributes: Strength 30

Agility 30

Constitution 30

Spirit 83

Unallocated points: 4

……

Wang Yan drank a glass of water, standing by the window watching the street outside—though in truth, he was watching the floating interface.

The previous five free attribute points were once again added to Spirit; this time, completing the task granted another four.

As for skills, there was still no major change—just one new Level 5 building, the structure he had designed and constructed for over twenty years, successfully achieving the "Living Dad Certification" Master level.

He became a Master Builder for one simple reason: first, after all these years, he had seen and done so much, repeatedly creating wonders and accumulating deep expertise; second, and most importantly, he had money. Unlike other architects who designed according to clients' wishes, he designed according to his own vision—and never slowed down, always taking on high-end projects. Even when designing residential units, he included large integrated shopping malls. Many companies and government agencies came to him, and there was no "client is god" nonsense here—if you didn't like it, don't hire him; he had plenty of work. Over twenty years, his accumulated project value reached hundreds of billions; if he wasn't a Master, who was?

But no matter how masterful the skill, it was rarely useful—he had only been passionate for these past twenty years, and now that the fire had faded, he didn't feel like moving anymore. In the real world, he had bought a fully renovated secondhand apartment, leaving him no chance to design buildings, not even a simple renovation. If he were to buy another house, that might take some time. So the only place this Master skill had any use was in cinematic worlds, when he felt like designing headquarters or something similar.

He closed the interface, glanced at the digital watch on the TV stand—it was only ten o'clock. In the bedroom, Wei Lan slept soundly from post-exertion exhaustion; on the living room carpet, A-Mao was playfully chasing A-Gou's fluffy tail, swinging its big broom-like tail happily, while A-Gou lolled its tongue and blinked its big eyes, fixed on its male master.

The master and mistress had started groaning and grunting with physical labor as soon as they got home yesterday, and still hadn't walked them…

After over twenty years, Wang Yan had to think a moment before remembering this routine. He chuckled and kicked A-Gou gently, telling it to wait by the door. He changed clothes, put leashes on A-Mao and A-Gou, and led them out.

A-Mao was a homebody—raised indoors since kittenhood, extremely timid. It walked cautiously outside, and within a few steps, jumped onto A-Gou's back to sit quietly, its alert little head swiveling left and right, convinced some villain meant it harm.

Qiantang had always been prosperous; even now, past ten o'clock, the streets were still crowded. Shops remained open. Though they had eaten dumplings before returning, it was still early, and he felt hungry again. He found a noodle shop, slurped down a bowl of beef noodles, then wandered until past eleven, finally bringing A-Mao and A-Gou back home.

Since this time he didn't need to adapt to bodily discomfort or frantically copy data, and since the modern world had little disparity, he wiped A-Mao and A-Gou's paws, washed up himself, and returned to bed, hugging Wei Lan, who had automatically drifted close in her dream, and soon fell asleep…

The next morning, Wang Yan still took the half-dead A-Gou out for a run as usual. This time, however, when he returned, Wei Lan was already awake, hair disheveled, slumped on the sofa scrolling through her phone. When the door opened, she weakly extended her hand, looking pitiful: "Husband, save me—I'm starving to death."

She hadn't eaten dinner last night, collapsed straight into sleep after intense exercise, and woke up hungry this morning.

Wang Yan wiped A-Gou's hooves with a wet wipe and unclipped its leash: "I'll get you bread and milk in a bit—just hold on."

"Hurry up! I'm dizzy and faint—I can't take it anymore."

This was, of course, exaggerated—if she were truly starving, she'd have gotten up and found food herself. She was just enjoying the feeling of being pampered and coddled—notice how she'd even switched her term of address automatically.

Wang Yan brought her some food to eat first, then hurriedly cooked breakfast, and they sat together at the table. Nothing fancy—just milk and bread, except he now had two extra steaks.

Wei Lan had always admired Wang Yan's appetite—no matter whether he'd eaten enough or what he was eating, she'd never seen him eat less. She sighed inwardly and said: "Do we have to wait until the loan is approved before we get the keys?"

"No, the contract's already signed. The rest is just paperwork—utilities, property management, trivial stuff. We'll handle it today—I'll pick up the keys, then we'll start moving things in. Wife, this responsibility falls to you—let's aim to move in next month and get married too."

"No problem," Wei Lan replied happily, then asked the key question: "Speaking of marriage, should we arrange for our parents to meet?"

"Meeting both sets of parents is a must. Today we'll handle the paperwork—tonight, tell your parents and set a time. See when they're free to come over and see the house we bought. As for my parents, they're free anytime—I'll go pick them up once the date's set. They've never traveled far in their lives—only been to Chencheng a few times, mostly stayed in Longcheng, never even flown."

Wang Yan sighed, recalling his parents' lives, then shook his head with a smile: "As for the wedding, we can't expect anything like on TV. You know my family—no influential relatives, just people who show up to give gifts and eat. And you know, I don't have many friends—hard to even fill a table. If you want to put on some performances, it'd be a waste of effort. So we'll just go through the normal motions—no romance possible."

He wasn't lying, nor was he unwilling to accommodate—it was simply reality. His relatives were ordinary people, mired in daily trivialities. His friends? In his past life, none had amounted to anything; many had drifted away. Some he'd deliberately distanced himself from, to avoid pointless social obligations. The few who remained—even counting his former roommates—would barely fill one table.

Wei Lan smiled and nodded: "I know. My family's a bit better than yours, but still the same. You know my friends too—can't even fill a table. Normal procedures are fine—it saves trouble. I was thinking: hold one ceremony at your place, then another at mine. What do you think?"

"Of course, that's only right."

"Alright, it's settled. When your parents and mine arrive, let them pick a date. I'll video-call my parents right now—they're probably eating." Wei Lan acted immediately, pulling out her phone to video-call her parents.

No woman dislikes a grand, romantic, unforgettable wedding—Wei Lan liked them too. But they were all ordinary people. Even though Wang Yan now earned a million a month, she hadn't met anyone else of comparable status. So she understood: if it weren't for the necessity of marriage—to announce to relatives and friends that she and Wang Yan were together—she'd have just had both families share a meal. Of course, there was also the matter of collecting gifts—doesn't matter how much, you have to get something back. All these years, she'd only given gifts; she wanted to experience the joy of receiving.

As the phone rang with a series of dings, the video call connected. Wei Lan's mother, Li Mei, sounded slightly surprised: "How unusual—you're up this early?"

Wei Lan chuckled: "When have I ever slept in?"

Li Mei clearly didn't want to waste time: "Where's Wang Yan? Why isn't he saying anything?"

"He's eating," Wei Lan tapped the screen to flip the camera, showing Wang Yan waving from the other side, then panned to the food on the table, before flipping back to herself: "Mom, I've got good news."

"What good news? Are you getting married to my son-in-law?" Wei Qinglin appeared in frame holding a bowl, smiling broadly. He got along well with Wang Yan, often chatting about calligraphy on WeChat, thought Wang Yan was deeply talented, and had already cheerfully accepted him as a son-in-law.

Wei Lan nodded, explaining: "Yes, we're getting married. We want to discuss it with you. Yesterday, Wang Yan bought a house and put my name on it. Today we're handling the paperwork. It's a secondhand place—we'll finish everything next month. We want to get married next month, invite you over to see the house and meet Wang Yan's parents."

Li Mei's joy was obvious: "Really? Is it settled?"

"Come on, do you think I'd joke about something like this? When are you and Dad free?"

Wei Qinglin sipped his porridge, thought a moment, then said: "Next Thursday? We'll take two days off, plus Saturday and Sunday—that's four days, won't be too tiring to travel back and forth. What do you think, honey?"

"Fine, next Thursday then. What about Wang Yan's parents?"

Wang Yan raised his voice slightly: "No problem—they're free."

After a few more words, the video call ended. Wei Lan looked at Wang Yan: "When are you going to pick up your parents?"

"Today's Thursday. Tomorrow we'll go together to measure everything, then the day after, we should hit IKEA?" Wang Yan calculated, smiling: "Sunday. I won't tell my parents—I'll just show up and surprise them."

Wei Lan thought of Wang Yan's mother: "Your mom will definitely call you a little bastard."

"She'll just scold him out loud—deep down, she's thrilled. Look at her son—he bought a house in Lin'an, married such a wonderful girl. She'll strut around the neighborhood immediately."

It's perfectly normal—everyone's ordinary, all relatives and friends are the same age—what else do they compare but whose kids are more successful, whose family life is better? His mother was a classic Northeastern woman—she'd never shut up.

Wei Lan laughed while eating, scrolling through photos of the house on her tablet, beginning to plan how to arrange it, what to buy…

Secondhand property procedures were more complex, but not a big issue—the agent accompanied them everywhere and knew everyone. The contract was signed, the seller was eager to sell and upgrade, and had already had the house appraised. So they brought the documents straight to the bank for the loan. Wang Yan's credentials were fine—though he'd once lived by juggling credit cards, his credit history was messy. But now he earned a million a month, and for the past few months, he'd made at least tens of thousands monthly. Of course, he had no powerful connections in the real world, so he had to follow normal procedures: the bank needed to inspect and appraise the property, then transfer ownership, set up collateral, and finally disburse funds.

After securing the loan and waiting for the appraisal amount, Wang Yan told the seller about picking up the keys. The seller said nothing and left promptly. Wang Yan and Wei Lan followed the agent to the agency to collect the keys, then entered the house.

Wei Lan stood on the balcony, stretching her arms wide, exhaling deeply in satisfaction: "It's so good—we finally have our own home…"

Wang Yan smiled, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe watching her.

In the past, at such a moment, he would have felt overwhelming pride. But now, he felt no stir at all—he'd experienced too much.

Without the Living Dad's trials, he wouldn't have this moment—but precisely because of the Living Dad's trials, he'd gained too much and lost too much. It was contradictory, yet his true reality. And Wei Lan had only just begun—there was still marriage, children, career success, watching them grow… so much more ahead.

Yet though he thought this way, his actions were flawless—he stepped behind her, placed his hands on her slender waist, and rested his head on her shoulder: "Lanlan, you jump, I jump."

"Stop it, you're not serious."

"Your husband's now earning a million a month—things will only get better. Your sigh came too early; there's still plenty to sigh about." Wang Yan wrapped his arm around her and turned her toward the house: "This place is clean enough—we'll hire cleaners later, no need to tire ourselves. Right now, let's measure everything and plan your layout. Tomorrow we'll go shopping for furniture."

"Good." Wei Lan nodded and began walking around the room, using her phone's notes app.

Wang Yan used a laser distance measurer to survey the entire house and sketched plans on a tablet. He retracted his earlier thought—architectural skills weren't learned in vain; now he could render accurate blueprints and later create a 3D model on his computer, letting him visualize furniture layouts clearly, even if it felt like using a cannon to swat a fly…

The next day, they followed the original plan and spent the whole day out shopping. Wei Lan said she would pay for the furniture. Wang Yan naturally said nothing—after all, they would be sharing expenses from now on; such things weren't worth arguing over, or else he wouldn't have married Wei Lan.

On Sunday, Wang Yan boarded a flight back to his hometown.