Agent Yi Leng
Author: NovelBin
Chapter 20: Parent-Child Gala
In the Hotel Kitchen
was brimming with confidence and full of spirit as he took the cigarette offered by his apprentice, launching into an animated discussion about
. It was an essential foundational lesson for anyone learning the craft, much like his own elective cooking class at the International Relations Academy during his younger years.
Zhang Cong said casually without missing a beat, as though the terrifying memory of being trapped in a freezer had completely vanished from his mind.
laughed and said,
Unexpectedly, those words made Zhang Cong blush. His master’s teasing seemed like a joke, but for Zhang Cong, they weren’t. He had never received even a word of praise from anyone throughout his life—neither his parents nor teachers. He had grown up in a cycle of criticism, harsh reprimands, shame, and insults. To adults, he was seen as an unteachable failure, a criminal’s son, a subpar student, and a gamer addicted to online games. Over time, this caused him to give up on himself, to stop trying to be a "good child."
It was this disillusioned and cynical attitude that drove Zhang Cong to spend so much time in internet cafes and take risks, such as risking everything for an iPhone. After all, life wasn’t worth much to him anymore.
Now that someone was complimenting him as having "talent," Zhang Cong found himself unprepared for such praise and didn’t know how to respond.
noticed his apprentice’s reaction and continued,
Zhang Cong was touched by his master’s sincerity. Though part of what was said might have been a light-hearted joke, there was a clear truth beneath. Zhang Cong swore,
smiled, saying,
Zhang Cong hesitated, unsure how to respond. His master, understanding his thoughts, said,
This was a new kind of teaching for Zhang Cong. His entire life had revolved around being taught strict, predetermined answers: Learning was for building the nation, and any deviation from this reasoning was met with scolding. Speaking the truth was punishable.
Today, however, Zhang Cong admitted his reality. He stammered,
His master laughed and said,
Zhang Cong thought for a moment and said,
His master replied,
Zhang Cong shrugged,
His master laughed,
Zhang Cong began to feel proud. Rarely had he received this kind of praise before, and his confidence grew.
His master continued,
Zhang Cong interrupted,
His master chuckled,
Zhang Cong didn’t entirely understand this, and even Wu Yumei, who had just been passing by, found herself pondering the statement. The old man was using academic references in his explanations, and even she wasn’t sure where these ideas came from.
His master continued with the story,
Wu Yumei scoffed,
His master smiled,
Encouraged by the conversation, Zhang Cong exclaimed,
His master chuckled and said,
The school proposed a New Year's parent-child party, which sparked a great deal of reaction among the students. Not everyone was enthusiastic about the idea because their parents, much like themselves, lacked any particular talents. Many of them were just ordinary workers at the shipyard, working three shifts in demanding conditions, with little time or energy for these types of events.
Fortunately, the school wasn’t making parental participation mandatory—they only encouraged it. Still, some students had good relationships with their parents, and coincidentally, their parents were happy to join in on the fun. This afternoon, after school, many families began preparing performances for the event.
Feng Xiaoxiao, as the class representative, naturally took it upon herself to set an example. She returned home after school and brought up the event to her mother, requesting her support. Feng Li, her mother, found the idea simple enough and immediately said, “Not a problem! I’ll perform a dance for you all myself. I’ve just learned some pole dancing at the club.”
Looking at his
, Feng Xiaoxiao gritted his teeth and said, "Forget it."
He still had another option—he could call his handsome, charming father for help. But his father was so busy with work that it seemed impossible for him to take time off to support his son. Still, he couldn't shake his unease. So, he made a call to his father.
Ma Xiaowei was in a meeting when he received the call from home. He felt irritated and stepped out of the meeting room to answer, speaking impatiently: "What is it now?"
On the other end came his son's voice, explaining that the school had organized a parent-child gathering and hoped that parents would participate. As the class monitor, he should take the lead.
The moment Ma Xiaowei heard this, he thought of Ou Li. This was a great opportunity to show off. He quickly reviewed his schedule for the week—December 31 was free of any important work.
"Alright, Dad will definitely support you," he said.
Feng Xiaoxiao hung up and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!"
, the small group of friends,
, had gathered again. Yin Weiran's injured leg no longer required traction. She told her two close friends that the doctor said her bone fracture wasn’t a severe compound one, and the soft tissue injuries were minimal. She didn’t need long-term hospitalization and would soon return to school.
"First thing when I get back to school is to mess with her," Yin Weiran said, referring, of course, to Yi Nuan-Nuan.
Mei Xin added, "You can attend the gathering this time, which is different from the past. Everyone is making dumplings together and inviting parents to participate. By the way, Yin Weiran, won’t you have your parents perform something?"
Jian Shiyu looked at Mei Xin with a resentful expression. Why did Mei Xin always bring this up? Jian Shiyu’s father was a construction business owner with a mistress and two children outside his marriage. He didn’t care much about family matters. Her mother was a housewife with no talent in performing arts. Meanwhile, Mei Xin's family had numerous artistic talents—her father was the deputy head of the company’s propaganda department, and her mother was an accomplished cultural worker.
There were subtle rivalries within the
Yin Bingsong was currently at a rural guesthouse, avoiding certain troubles. By all logic, his safety should have come first, and he should not have shown his face. But, due to his love for his daughter, he only hesitated for a few seconds before agreeing to her request.
"Don’t worry, Dad will give you face," he promised.
Back in
, Yi Nuan-Nuan was also preparing for the gathering performance. Initially, she didn’t want to participate in such a lively event, but after Ms. Ali's arrival, she slowly started to bond with her classmates and became willing to contribute to group activities. Uncle Huang was right—she was excellent in vocal music and drawing. But what about the parent-child performance?
Her grandfather wouldn’t come, but her grandmother could dance folk dances. However, those dances wouldn’t really "shine" on stage. After much thought, she considered her aunt. Her aunt was young, pretty, energetic, and could sing well.
Coincidentally, her grandmother was on the phone with her aunt, asking if she would return home for the New Year's holiday. Her aunt said she had just finished her interview with a new company and would only begin work after the New Year. She could indeed come home for the holidays. Yi Nuan-Nuan explained the parent-child gathering to her aunt, and she immediately agreed to participate.
Nuan-Nuan suppressed the urge to tell her aunt a secret—that her father was alive and was a secret agent. The "real-life True Lies" in their family was a fantasy no normal child could resist, let alone someone like her, who had endured the pain of losing parents. On sleepless nights, Nuan-Nuan had created countless fairy tales in her mind. She kept a diary full of drawings and stories about her parents and herself. Before Uncle Huang appeared in her life, it was this diary and a family photo that had kept her alive.
Yi Leng was the last to join. When Yi Nuan-Nuan was little, he had missed many parent meetings. This time, he didn’t want to leave any regrets. Ms. Ali asked him to assist with the dining arrangements, so he naturally stepped in without hesitation.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was the final weekend of the year—the last day of the year. Both schools and workplaces had no motivation for learning or work anymore. Schools were preparing parent-child gatherings, and workplaces were hosting similar events. The morning classes ended early, and students were dismissed to gather supplies in preparation for the afternoon event at 3 PM.
This was the time for parents to show off their creativity. Mothers were busy dressing and putting on makeup at home, while fathers drove their cars, transporting supplies. Making dumplings would require electric stoves, boiled water, meat fillings, and pre-made dumpling skins. These were minor inconveniences compared to the real spectacle—the performances in the school auditorium.
Mei Xin’s father, Mei Yuliang, was the deputy director of the company’s Administrative Propaganda Department. Using his resources, he arranged for a set of large display screens and sound equipment to be provided to the school. His daughter would be the center of attention at the event.
The most impressive effort, however, came from Feng Xiaoxiao's family. His father, Ma Xiaowei, arranged a truck, recruited eight workers, and brought in a
.
The students from Class 2-5 leaned against the corridor railing, watching the workers unload the piano. One of them remarked: "Class monitor, is your dad going to perform a piano solo?"
Feng Xiaoxiao had never heard his father play the piano. Nor did he know if his father played any musical instrument. Nevertheless, assuming his father was a
, he felt confident that piano playing wouldn’t be difficult for him. He said casually: "My dad's piano skills are average. He’s just the 'Piano Prince' of Tsinghua."
He enjoyed using this modest tone while saying the most impressive things. His classmates were amazed and envious.
Ma Xiaowei oversaw the workers as they unloaded the piano. The
was expensive and delicate, requiring careful handling. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he removed his Chesterfield cashmere coat, revealing his formal evening attire—a red and blue striped bow tie and satin jacket—his performance outfit for showing off in front of Ms. Ali.
However, Ma Xiaowei didn’t know how to play the piano. He came from a working-class background, had no musical talent, and could only recite poetry well.
A
arrived with stoves and food supplies for Class 2-5. Yi Leng stepped out, smoke in his hair, wearing a dirty cotton jacket and black leather pants with white socks. He looked at the Steinway piano and paused, turning his prayer beads absentmindedly.
"Wow, a Steinway A188. Who would spend that much money?" he muttered.
[--------------------------------------------]
If you want
and to support the continuation of this story, consider subscribing to my Patreon. Your support means a lot and helps me bring more great content to you!
/flokixy
was brimming with confidence and full of spirit as he took the cigarette offered by his apprentice, launching into an animated discussion about
. It was an essential foundational lesson for anyone learning the craft, much like his own elective cooking class at the International Relations Academy during his younger years.
Zhang Cong said casually without missing a beat, as though the terrifying memory of being trapped in a freezer had completely vanished from his mind.
laughed and said,
Unexpectedly, those words made Zhang Cong blush. His master’s teasing seemed like a joke, but for Zhang Cong, they weren’t. He had never received even a word of praise from anyone throughout his life—neither his parents nor teachers. He had grown up in a cycle of criticism, harsh reprimands, shame, and insults. To adults, he was seen as an unteachable failure, a criminal’s son, a subpar student, and a gamer addicted to online games. Over time, this caused him to give up on himself, to stop trying to be a "good child."
It was this disillusioned and cynical attitude that drove Zhang Cong to spend so much time in internet cafes and take risks, such as risking everything for an iPhone. After all, life wasn’t worth much to him anymore.
Now that someone was complimenting him as having "talent," Zhang Cong found himself unprepared for such praise and didn’t know how to respond.
noticed his apprentice’s reaction and continued,
Zhang Cong was touched by his master’s sincerity. Though part of what was said might have been a light-hearted joke, there was a clear truth beneath. Zhang Cong swore,
smiled, saying,
Zhang Cong hesitated, unsure how to respond. His master, understanding his thoughts, said,
This was a new kind of teaching for Zhang Cong. His entire life had revolved around being taught strict, predetermined answers: Learning was for building the nation, and any deviation from this reasoning was met with scolding. Speaking the truth was punishable.
Today, however, Zhang Cong admitted his reality. He stammered,
His master laughed and said,
Zhang Cong thought for a moment and said,
His master replied,
Zhang Cong shrugged,
His master laughed,
Zhang Cong began to feel proud. Rarely had he received this kind of praise before, and his confidence grew.
His master continued,
Zhang Cong interrupted,
His master chuckled,
Zhang Cong didn’t entirely understand this, and even Wu Yumei, who had just been passing by, found herself pondering the statement. The old man was using academic references in his explanations, and even she wasn’t sure where these ideas came from.
His master continued with the story,
Wu Yumei scoffed,
His master smiled,
Encouraged by the conversation, Zhang Cong exclaimed,
His master chuckled and said,
The school proposed a New Year's parent-child party, which sparked a great deal of reaction among the students. Not everyone was enthusiastic about the idea because their parents, much like themselves, lacked any particular talents. Many of them were just ordinary workers at the shipyard, working three shifts in demanding conditions, with little time or energy for these types of events.
Fortunately, the school wasn’t making parental participation mandatory—they only encouraged it. Still, some students had good relationships with their parents, and coincidentally, their parents were happy to join in on the fun. This afternoon, after school, many families began preparing performances for the event.
Feng Xiaoxiao, as the class representative, naturally took it upon herself to set an example. She returned home after school and brought up the event to her mother, requesting her support. Feng Li, her mother, found the idea simple enough and immediately said, “Not a problem! I’ll perform a dance for you all myself. I’ve just learned some pole dancing at the club.”
Looking at his
, Feng Xiaoxiao gritted his teeth and said, "Forget it."
He still had another option—he could call his handsome, charming father for help. But his father was so busy with work that it seemed impossible for him to take time off to support his son. Still, he couldn't shake his unease. So, he made a call to his father.
Ma Xiaowei was in a meeting when he received the call from home. He felt irritated and stepped out of the meeting room to answer, speaking impatiently: "What is it now?"
On the other end came his son's voice, explaining that the school had organized a parent-child gathering and hoped that parents would participate. As the class monitor, he should take the lead.
The moment Ma Xiaowei heard this, he thought of Ou Li. This was a great opportunity to show off. He quickly reviewed his schedule for the week—December 31 was free of any important work.
"Alright, Dad will definitely support you," he said.
Feng Xiaoxiao hung up and pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!"
, the small group of friends,
, had gathered again. Yin Weiran's injured leg no longer required traction. She told her two close friends that the doctor said her bone fracture wasn’t a severe compound one, and the soft tissue injuries were minimal. She didn’t need long-term hospitalization and would soon return to school.
"First thing when I get back to school is to mess with her," Yin Weiran said, referring, of course, to Yi Nuan-Nuan.
Mei Xin added, "You can attend the gathering this time, which is different from the past. Everyone is making dumplings together and inviting parents to participate. By the way, Yin Weiran, won’t you have your parents perform something?"
Jian Shiyu looked at Mei Xin with a resentful expression. Why did Mei Xin always bring this up? Jian Shiyu’s father was a construction business owner with a mistress and two children outside his marriage. He didn’t care much about family matters. Her mother was a housewife with no talent in performing arts. Meanwhile, Mei Xin's family had numerous artistic talents—her father was the deputy head of the company’s propaganda department, and her mother was an accomplished cultural worker.
There were subtle rivalries within the
Yin Bingsong was currently at a rural guesthouse, avoiding certain troubles. By all logic, his safety should have come first, and he should not have shown his face. But, due to his love for his daughter, he only hesitated for a few seconds before agreeing to her request.
"Don’t worry, Dad will give you face," he promised.
Back in
, Yi Nuan-Nuan was also preparing for the gathering performance. Initially, she didn’t want to participate in such a lively event, but after Ms. Ali's arrival, she slowly started to bond with her classmates and became willing to contribute to group activities. Uncle Huang was right—she was excellent in vocal music and drawing. But what about the parent-child performance?
Her grandfather wouldn’t come, but her grandmother could dance folk dances. However, those dances wouldn’t really "shine" on stage. After much thought, she considered her aunt. Her aunt was young, pretty, energetic, and could sing well.
Coincidentally, her grandmother was on the phone with her aunt, asking if she would return home for the New Year's holiday. Her aunt said she had just finished her interview with a new company and would only begin work after the New Year. She could indeed come home for the holidays. Yi Nuan-Nuan explained the parent-child gathering to her aunt, and she immediately agreed to participate.
Nuan-Nuan suppressed the urge to tell her aunt a secret—that her father was alive and was a secret agent. The "real-life True Lies" in their family was a fantasy no normal child could resist, let alone someone like her, who had endured the pain of losing parents. On sleepless nights, Nuan-Nuan had created countless fairy tales in her mind. She kept a diary full of drawings and stories about her parents and herself. Before Uncle Huang appeared in her life, it was this diary and a family photo that had kept her alive.
Yi Leng was the last to join. When Yi Nuan-Nuan was little, he had missed many parent meetings. This time, he didn’t want to leave any regrets. Ms. Ali asked him to assist with the dining arrangements, so he naturally stepped in without hesitation.
The days passed quickly, and soon it was the final weekend of the year—the last day of the year. Both schools and workplaces had no motivation for learning or work anymore. Schools were preparing parent-child gatherings, and workplaces were hosting similar events. The morning classes ended early, and students were dismissed to gather supplies in preparation for the afternoon event at 3 PM.
This was the time for parents to show off their creativity. Mothers were busy dressing and putting on makeup at home, while fathers drove their cars, transporting supplies. Making dumplings would require electric stoves, boiled water, meat fillings, and pre-made dumpling skins. These were minor inconveniences compared to the real spectacle—the performances in the school auditorium.
Mei Xin’s father, Mei Yuliang, was the deputy director of the company’s Administrative Propaganda Department. Using his resources, he arranged for a set of large display screens and sound equipment to be provided to the school. His daughter would be the center of attention at the event.
The most impressive effort, however, came from Feng Xiaoxiao's family. His father, Ma Xiaowei, arranged a truck, recruited eight workers, and brought in a
.
The students from Class 2-5 leaned against the corridor railing, watching the workers unload the piano. One of them remarked: "Class monitor, is your dad going to perform a piano solo?"
Feng Xiaoxiao had never heard his father play the piano. Nor did he know if his father played any musical instrument. Nevertheless, assuming his father was a
, he felt confident that piano playing wouldn’t be difficult for him. He said casually: "My dad's piano skills are average. He’s just the 'Piano Prince' of Tsinghua."
He enjoyed using this modest tone while saying the most impressive things. His classmates were amazed and envious.
Ma Xiaowei oversaw the workers as they unloaded the piano. The
was expensive and delicate, requiring careful handling. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he removed his Chesterfield cashmere coat, revealing his formal evening attire—a red and blue striped bow tie and satin jacket—his performance outfit for showing off in front of Ms. Ali.
However, Ma Xiaowei didn’t know how to play the piano. He came from a working-class background, had no musical talent, and could only recite poetry well.
A
arrived with stoves and food supplies for Class 2-5. Yi Leng stepped out, smoke in his hair, wearing a dirty cotton jacket and black leather pants with white socks. He looked at the Steinway piano and paused, turning his prayer beads absentmindedly.
"Wow, a Steinway A188. Who would spend that much money?" he muttered.
[--------------------------------------------]
If you want
and to support the continuation of this story, consider subscribing to my Patreon. Your support means a lot and helps me bring more great content to you!
/flokixy