Stay Home Daddy: I Was Reborn After My Daughter Passed Away
Chapter 91: Ninety-one people received grace and plan to repay_1

Chapter 91: Ninety-one people received grace and plan to repay_1

Gu Chen asked with curiosity, "Isn’t writing elegiac couplets your strong suit? How could it bother you?"

As a child, when Gu Chen visited his home, Old Wang was always writing, and his calligraphy was like floating clouds and flowing water—grand and elegant.

Old Wang shook his head helplessly, "It’s not like the old days anymore, I’ve gotten old, and the body won’t lie, my hands always tremble. Forget it, I’ll head back first."

If not for his shaky hands, he wouldn’t have had to quit calligraphy; thinking about it was frustrating.

Upon hearing this, Gu Chen didn’t insist further.

He nodded, "Alright, Uncle Wang, you do what you need to do, I’ll bring you a bowl when it’s ready!"

Although hotpot is supposed to be eaten as it cooks, country folks aren’t so particular; it tastes just as good eaten after it’s all cooked.

For Old Wang, as long as he had something to eat, that was enough!

Old Wang didn’t decline; he cracked a smile.

"Alright, lad, I’ll be waiting for that bowl!"

Having lived his life childless, he genuinely treated Gu Chen like his own son, so there were no formalities or shyness.

It was just like a child showing filial piety!

...

Half an hour later, the hotpot, steaming and fragrant, was ready. In preparation for this meal, Shen Cuizhi had even gone out of her way to bring over an induction cooker from Old Wang’s house.

Induction cookers were quite the luxury these days.

The family gathered around the round table in the main room, Liu Lizhen and Fan Xiaoli’s cravings had been triggered long ago, especially Fan Xiaoli, whose mouth watered so much despite her age.

Just waiting for Gu Chen’s pot.

When they saw Gu Chen carrying in a pot full of red soup, they quickly stood up to help.

Fan Xiaoli set the pot onto the induction cooker, and the very next second, she eagerly rubbed her hands together with a warm smile.

"Oh, our third brother really has a knack for cooking, it’s making my mouth water."

Gu He agreed wholeheartedly, "Indeed, that stir-fried pork with green peppers at noon was so delicious and went perfectly with rice!"

As Gu Hang picked up his chopsticks, he gave his second son a disdainful look, "Enough already, when have you ever had trouble eating anything?"

At this moment, Ji Pianran and Shen Cuizhi came in carrying all sorts of dishes.

Oyster mushrooms, bean curd skins, meat rolls, bamboo shoot slices, and so on.

As soon as the dishes were placed on the table, everyone scrambled to add them to the pot.

All thanks to Gu Chen for making such an irresistible hotpot.

Just the smell alone was enough to make one’s mouth water incessantly.

The family sat down amidst laughter and talk, all picking up their chopsticks, ready to start eating as soon as the food was cooked.

Only Gu Chen didn’t seem to be in a hurry, as he still needed to take some over to Old Wang.

Gu Chen returned to the kitchen, found a small porcelain basin, and then came back to the main hall.

By now, the dishes were almost ready, and everyone was eager to start eating.

Gu Chen smiled, "Hold on a moment, I’m going to take some to Uncle Wang; we wouldn’t be able to enjoy this hotpot without his induction cooker."

He was right—there’s an old saying that when you drink water, remember the one who dug the well.

Gu Chen was never an ungrateful person, especially to those who had cared for him since childhood.

He felt truly thankful from the bottom of his heart.

With that, he scooped nearly all of the first round of cooked dishes into the basin.

He didn’t forget to add some broth, too.

This nearly drove Fan Xiaoli crazy with longing; just when the food was finally ready, before she got to taste even a bite, it was all scooped away.

She sulkily pouted and slumped back into her seat.

Gu Hang, on the other hand, completely approved of Gu Chen’s actions.

This kid knew how to repay kindness—he had character!

Just for that, he shouldn’t ever do anything conscienceless in the future!

...

Carrying the porcelain basin, Gu Chen headed over to the neighboring house of Old Wang.

The door was unlocked, and as soon as I entered the courtyard, I saw several flower wreaths standing against the wall, along with things like cranes or whatever.

They seemed to be for the village head’s mother.

Gu He took a closer look and indeed, there wasn’t a single character on the flower wreaths.

He frowned slightly, just now he had said he was bothered by his own writing, and Gu He didn’t think it was a big issue, considering Old Wang was very professional at writing funeral banners and carving inscriptions.

But now, he suddenly felt like it might actually be true.

With that in mind, Gu He carried the steaming hot pot into the house.

Inside, Old Wang was sitting at the table, holding a calligraphy brush in his hand and his face was the very picture of misery.

The floor was littered with quite a few wasted pieces of Xuan paper, clearly botched attempts.

Seeing Gu He arrive, he suddenly remembered the little boy who used to come to his house and beg for food.

With a helpless chuckle, he remarked, "Times really do change." He gestured with his hand, "You were only this tall as a kid, always following behind me, begging, ’Uncle Wang, I’m hungry,’ ’Uncle Wang, I want an ice pop.’ And now, in the blink of an eye, you’re all grown up."

His voice carried an unmistakable tinge of melancholy.

Having said that, Old Wang suddenly laughed. The little brat who used to come asking for food was now bringing him something to eat—he hadn’t doted on the boy in vain!

Gu He placed the hot pot on a table at the back, "Alright, Uncle Wang, have some food first, it won’t taste good once it cools down."

The smell of the hot pot was indeed enticing, tantalizingly so.

But Old Wang was not in the mood to appreciate it, as he hadn’t managed to write out a single couplet for the funeral banners yet. With six pairs of flower wreaths and each pair needing a couplet, that meant he had to write twelve couplets in total.

This was ruining his own reputation at the last minute.

Especially since the client was the village head.

The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became!

Seeing him unmoved, Gu He went over to the writing desk to take a look, his expression turned to one of sympathy.

"You really can’t write anymore?"

Old Wang was already feeling anxious, and hearing Gu He’s question, he replied irritably, "Isn’t that obvious? You little brat, do you want to laugh at me?"

Looking at Old Wang’s deeply wrinkled face, Gu He couldn’t help but feel for him, "Don’t talk like that, I wouldn’t laugh at anyone, least of all you. If you can’t write, I’ll do it."

Gu He had thought his Intermediate Calligraphy was limited to writing Spring Festival couplets, and now, here he was, about to write funeral banners.

He felt an urge to laugh.

Hearing this, Old Wang burst out laughing, "You little rascal, have you had too much to drink at noon and not sobered up yet?"

He may not know others well, but he knew Gu He like the back of his hand—writing that was worse than a dog’s scrawl. And now he was going to write funeral banners?

"Okay, stop messing around. I’ll just rest a bit and see if I can manage it later," he said as he stood up and walked over to the table at the back where the food was set out.

And so Gu He started to pick up the food with his chopsticks and eat.

After just one bite, his expression instantly turned to surprise.

He hadn’t expected Gu He to have such a talent—this hot pot was cooked to perfection.

If he hadn’t known better, he would have suspected that Gu He had been born and raised in Sichuan!

"Mmm, this tastes authentic! You’ve got some skills, kiddo," he said.

After finishing his comment, he noticed there were beef bones in the pot and immediately started gnawing on them with gusto.

Gu He wasn’t idle either; he picked up a calligraphy brush and, facing the book on writing funeral couplets, began to write.

With his back turned to Old Wang, Old Wang was about to say something when he turned his head and saw Gu He actually writing with the brush. Although he couldn’t see what was being written, from the posture and the force, it seemed that the writing was not bad at all.

He was somewhat taken aback and walked over to Gu He without even putting down the beef bone.

Leaning in to get a better view, he saw the characters that Gu He had written.

Old Wang was completely astounded.

Were these characters written by Gu He?

The strokes were vigorous and mature, flowing smoothly like clouds and water—these were even better than Old Wang’s own writing!

What on earth had the boy been doing all these years since his marriage?

The beef bone he was holding "clattered" to the ground.

Hearing the noise, he came to his senses, bent down to pick it up, lamenting, "Damn it, this bone was so delicious, and I hadn’t even finished gnawing it before it fell!"