Chapter 3177: Chinese Toon Lane Bitter Summer 19

Weekend, the third day after Chenshu left.

Jin Chen counted the days, feeling that half his soul had returned, while the other half still drifted somewhere unknown, and it would not return until the seventh day.

In the evening, Jin Xiumei returned home first, busy in the kitchen; the sound of spatulas colliding and the smell of cooking oil drifted in through the door gap.

Jin Chen sat on the balcony, knees drawn up, chin resting on them, staring blankly at the potted plant. A new member had joined the potted-plant family—a mint given to him by Chenshu; up close he could smell its cool fragrance, and he reached out to fiddle with its leaves.

Just before dinner, Zhang Yue and Zhang Jianguo arrived home together; Zhang Yue seemed refreshed, holding a bag, she changed her shoes and darted into the kitchen, her voice coming through the door, excited: "Mom, Dad took me to the market! I bought so many good things!"

Zhang Jianguo came home, and Jin Chen's good mood was mostly gone; he communicated silently with the potted plant, mainly guessing whether Zhang Jianguo had come for money, to lose his temper for no reason, or both—which would be the worst possible omen.

After the exchange, Jin Chen rose from the balcony, went into the kitchen, took the bowls and chopsticks from Jin Xiumei's hands, and carried them one plate at a time to the dining table.

Zhang Jianguo sat with his legs crossed, picking at the vegetables with his chopsticks, turning over a few pieces of meat only to put them down again, then he took some greens, chewed a couple of bites, and spat them onto the tabletop.

"The stir-fry is not good," he said, setting his chopsticks on the bowl's edge, his tone harsh: "Too little salt, and the meat isn't fresh."

Jin Xiumei's chopsticks paused: "Maybe the meat bought at the market today is no good; go early tomorrow to buy more. If you don't stay home tonight, I'll buy fresh ingredients tomorrow and make a proper meal."

Zhang Jianguo put on a thoughtful look, pulling down the corners of his mouth as if granting a favor: "That'll do."

Then his red-rimmed, alcohol-soaked eyes suddenly slid over to Jin Chen, scanning him up and down.

"How's the job search? You're twenty—don't you think about easing your aunt's burden? We've been supporting you for free all along; now you still expect us to keep you?"

Zhang Jianguo finished speaking, then slurped a mouthful of spare ribs, making a slurping sound, chewed a few bites, still dissatisfied, and muttered under his breath, "Good-for-nothing."

Jin Chen ignored him, quietly eating the rice in his bowl without looking up. In his mind he told the balcony potted plant that this was the worst of the worst omens—Zhang Jianguo had come home just to pick a fight.

Seeing Jin Chen silent, Zhang Jianguo turned his wrath to Jin Xiumei: "You don't even manage things at home. Back then you insisted on being kind-hearted, raising someone else's child for years for free—you might as well have raised livestock; at least they'd know gratitude."

The atmosphere at the dinner table instantly stiffened.

Zhang Yue bit her chopsticks, dared not speak, lowered her head and silently ate her rice.

Jin Xiumei's complexion was also not great, her voice somewhat hollow: "Jin Chen said he'd look for work again. He's almost like a normal person now……"

She hadn't finished speaking when Jin Chen suddenly spoke.

"Not going."

Jin Xiumei froze, staring blankly at Jin Chen.

Jin Chen set down his chopsticks, disgusted by Zhang Jianguo's eating manner, unable to continue the meal.

He lifted his gaze, his eyes vaguely resting on the edge of the plate, and repeated, "I'm not going to work; you don't need to worry about me."

That comment somehow struck a nerve with Zhang Jianguo. He slammed his chopsticks onto the table, "Don't need to worry? How arrogant! What are you? Living here, eating, drinking, using the bathroom—none of it is free! What kind of bodhisattva are you, expecting me to wait on you for nothing?!"

Jin Chen calmly looked at him, "I haven't spent your money; my uncle gave me some."

Jin Xiumei most disliked hearing Jin Chen mention his mother's relatives, and she shouted sharply to cut him off: "Jin Chen!"

Zhang Jianguo suddenly exploded, flinging his hand and smashing the bowl; food and soup splattered everywhere, leaving the table littered with debris.

His face flushed red, veins bulging, he pointed at Jin Chen's nose and shouted: "How dare you bring that up! Eighty thousand dollars! All I ever gave you was eighty thousand! Since you came to live with me at ten, how much do you actually owe me over these ten years?!"

Jin Chen, disliking the mess, stepped back to avoid the soup and shattered porcelain that had splashed onto his feet.

When facing Zhang Jianguo, he was always utterly calm, even gloomy to a frightening degree—a hard shell his body had grown automatically after being hurt too many times.

"Fifty-two thousand."

Zhang Jianguo frowned tightly: "What did you say?"

Jin Xiumei also looked at him blankly, as if she didn't understand what he was saying.

Jin Chen said: "From age ten, to support my schooling until I was fifteen or sixteen and could work, you spent a total of fifty-two thousand."

He raised his hand, twisting the earring in his ear cartilage, but since Chenshu had kept him so well, the piercing no longer hurt; instead he bit the inside of his lip and clenched his trembling fingers, continuing, "Firewood, rice, oil, salt—when you're not home, do you think they just grow themselves in the kitchen?"

Jin Xiumei's lips trembled as she realized she hadn't bought those staples in ages; they were usually stocked at home, but now they were gone… so she had Jin Chen go buy them.

She felt somewhat defeated, staring blankly, eyes unfocused, murmuring, "How did we suddenly get so clear about the household accounts……"

Zhang Jianguo, however, was unusually furious; he slammed the table, making the bowls and chopsticks jump, "What are you saying this for! What are you saying this for! Do you even want to get the money back? What are you? Your uncle, a big boss, only gave you eighty thousand, and you still hold a grudge against him!"

He kicked over his chair and stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor, "You're still a lunatic! Living in my house and ruining my reputation! Who in Chunshu Lane doesn't talk about you? Who doesn't say I'm a sucker?!"

Jin Chen didn't understand his anger, and earnestly expressed his demand: "I don't want money, and you don't need to worry about me."

He saw Zhang Jianguo's move—that man clenched his fists, as if about to lunge forward at any moment.

Jin Chen also rose, his gaze calm, using his height advantage to look down on him, his eyes heavy: "Do you want to fight?"

Zhang Yue burst into tears from fright, tears pattering into her rice bowl; Jin Xiumei, annoyed by her crying, sent her to eat in the room, seeing they were about to fight again, she hurried to stop Jin Chen.

She grabbed Jin Chen's arm, eyes red, and scolded him: "What exactly do you want to do! A family eating a meal, and you insist on making a scene like this!"

Jin Chen had already said too much today, feeling an inexplicable lightness in his heart, but when he lowered his head and saw Jin Xiumei weeping, strands of her graying hair falling beside her ears, that lightness sank heavily; something lodged in his throat, he couldn't swallow, and the entrance to his esophagus felt sore.

Jin Chen actually wanted to ask her: in his senior year of high school, when Jin Xiumei had him drop out, was it truly because the family couldn't afford it, or because she couldn't accept that this 'lunatic' had scored better grades than Zhang Yue, making her feel even more ashamed?

But saying those things now is pointless.

Jin Chen felt empty inside; at this moment he especially missed Chenshu's embrace.

He forced the sourness in his eyes back, refusing to let it become tears, turned and left the house.

"Brother!"

Zhang Yue flung the door open and shouted at Jin Chen's retreating back. But Jin Chen didn't turn; Zhang Yue watched his ever-smaller silhouette, then suddenly turned her gaze to Mother, bewildered.

"Mom, I feel like big brother doesn't really need us anymore."