Chapter 94: Familiar Atmosphere

"I know, why are you rushing me?"

Ding Jiahui mumbled, feeling wronged—she was helping Xu Qingzhou, yet he complained they were moving too slowly.

After collecting their luggage, Song Yao and Ding Jiahui joined the others, walking toward the airport exit, where they spotted Song Shisong waiting at the door from afar.

“Dad~”

“Uncle Song.”

Xu Qingzhou and the others greeted him.

Song Shisong sized up Xu Qingzhou, pushing his daughter’s suitcase—huh, the clothes in his hands still looked nearly identical in style.

Guo Ziyan watched Song Shisong’s warm demeanor toward Xu Qingzhou and felt another wave of sour envy—he’d already met the parents, even won their approval, while he? The road ahead was long indeed.

Read!{

“This kid, just now texted saying he’d be here any minute,” Wang Nushi muttered, stepping out to see her son standing stiffly outside the stairwell. “What are you doing standing there like a post?”

Although in his past life he had indeed been a bachelor for over thirty years.

Wang Xiaping listened, bewildered—what project to improve MRI scans, requiring all sorts of experiments? She grew worried: even if her son’s genes had somehow gone haywire, he was still a freshman—what if he messed something up? “Son, isn’t that thing radioactive? You’ve got to take proper precautions.”

“Oh? Our top scholar’s back!”

Looking at it this way, Mom really had sharp eyes—she’d seen he’d end up a bachelor.

He thought even if he explained, they wouldn’t understand.

“First time living on campus—getting used to it?” Xu Shouyun asked.

Everyone sat back down in the living room to watch TV.

Wang Xiaping served her son more food; she’d once found him annoying, thinking she’d be free once he finished university, but now that he was gone, she felt strangely adrift.

Song Shisong smiled, fond of Xu Qingzhou’s steady, mature demeanor, then glanced at Ding Jiahui and Guo Ziyan beside him: “Let’s go—the car’s outside; I can’t park too long.”

Watching Song Shisong’s car vanish around the street corner, Xu Qingzhou turned his gaze back and strode toward the residential compound.

Looking back now, he realized he’d been wildly mistaken—understanding or not didn’t matter; they just wanted to gauge how well he was doing from his work.

“No,” Xu Qingzhou ate his rice, saying, “We’re just pure friends.”

“No,” Xu Qingzhou held his soup bowl. “Mom, can I get another bowl of soup?”

CRACK~ Just as Xu Qingzhou marveled at how time flew, the stairwell echoed with the sound of a door opening.

Wang Xiaping took Xu Qingzhou’s computer bag and said, “Come in quickly—the food’s getting cold.”

Wang Xiaping glared at Xu Qingzhou. “Don’t dodge—it’s about your love life.”

There’s a wide generational gap in how each generation perceives and thinks about problems.

In the living room, Xu Shouyun was watching a soccer match; the dining table was piled high with dishes.

“Mom, ours isn’t like the hospital’s—it’s not that extreme,” Xu Qingzhou chuckled.

In today’s slang, it’s called what—couples’ outfits?

“Here, have another piece of rib.”

“Uncle Song, you’re too kind—most of the time, Song Yao looks after me,” Xu Qingzhou shook his head.

Wang Xiaping frowned, glaring at Xu Shouyun: “What do you mean I’m meddling? Who handles every big and small thing around this house? Hmph—don’t pretend you don’t know who calls me every time he goes to buy groceries.”

After dinner, Xu Qingzhou wanted to wash the dishes, but Wang Xiaping stopped him, saying he’d just flown in and should rest.

“Hey, National Day holiday, Uncle Zhang, you’re on duty today?” Wang Xiaping asked, then narrowed her eyes at Xu Qingzhou and said sternly, “How’s it going with Xiao Yao?”

At 12:30 a.m., Xu Qingzhou returned to his long-absent bedroom.

Forty minutes later, Xu Qingzhou got out of the car at the Wutong Residential Compound entrance.

For example, things Xu Qingzhou found amusing or funny might seem dull or even irritating to Wang Xiaping and the others.

“How’s what?” Xu Qingzhou feigned ignorance, internally grumbling—Mom was just the same as always, already anxious about his love life after just one month of college.

“Mom, there’s so much—I can’t possibly eat all this.”

!.

The couple seemed to sense he didn’t want to talk about work, so they stopped asking; later, their questions grew cautious—only things like, “Did you eat?”

“Eat as much as you can.”

“What I miss most from school is Mom’s cooking.”

“If you like it, eat more.”

Xu Qingzhou took it, sipped, and sighed contentedly: “Home really is more comfortable.”

Looking at the couple across from him, Xu Qingzhou felt an inexplicable warmth—it was such a familiar scene.

His gaze was complex—his hard-raised cabbage had been taken. “Xiao Xu, thank you for taking care of Song Yao these past days.”

Seeing Xu Shouyun fall silent, Wang Xiaping snorted, picked up a clean bowl, and ladled a full portion of rib soup for Xu Qingzhou.

Xu Qingzhou told Xu Shouyun and Wang Xiaping about school life, mentioning he’d joined a professor’s project at the Physics Academy. “You’re already joining those projects?”

For example, eating with three people versus two people really is different.

Xu Shouyun knew he’d said the wrong thing, but he’d long been experienced—he chose silence without hesitation.

“Mom~” Xu Qingzhou called, walking over.

In the past, after noticing this phenomenon, Xu Qingzhou rarely mentioned work when he came home.

“Lao Xu, stop watching—bring out the ribs stewing in the kitchen.”

“Help yourself,” Wang Xiaping thought Xu Qingzhou was pathetic—such a great girl right beside him, and he still called her just a friend? Xu Qingzhou sighed helplessly, internally complaining—Mom’s mood swing was too fast; she’d barely waited a day before starting to complain.

The three of them quickly gathered around the dining table—though only Xu Qingzhou ate, the other two just watched.

“Exactly—meddling! That whole team must know more than you do,” Xu Shouyun added from his seat, eyes still on the match, completely confident in his son.

“Really nothing at all?” Wang Xiaping frowned.

“Used to it, and learned a lot.”

The old man at Xu Qingzhou’s door greeted him; he walked through the quiet path to the familiar building, feeling a pang of nostalgia—he’d been at school a month, yet it felt like he’d only left yesterday.

They stuffed the suitcases into the car; Song Yao sat in the front passenger seat, while Xu Qingzhou and the other two sat in the back.

Compared to a month ago, the small bedroom hadn’t changed—the manga books he’d collected, the glowing Changhong sword, and his high school textbooks were all still there.

Also, two bags of rice and a barrel of oil had been added—no need to ask, they were from his workplace.

It was only been a month, yet it was already turning into a storage room.

Xu Qingzhou smiled and shook his head, pulling out his computer, documents, and manuscripts from his bag.

(End of Chapter)