Reborn in 2005, starting with repairing mobile phones

Lin Dong practically ran upstairs.

The old-fashioned cement steps of the staircase were worn and uneven, and the handrail was rusty. He took two steps at a time and stopped at the door of 302. He inserted the key into the mottled green-painted iron door and paused for two seconds.

The sound of stir-frying came from inside the door.

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

"Mom, I'm home."

At the kitchen doorway, Li Xiuzhen, Lin Dong's mother, stood wearing her long-worn floral apron, a spatula in her hand. She turned her head, her face bearing the most vivid smile Lin Dong could remember:

"Ah Dong? You're back so early today? Come on, wash your hands and we'll get ready for dinner. Your dad bought braised goose tonight!"

Lin Dong did not respond.

He stood blankly at the door, looking at his mother. His mother, in her early forties, didn't have much gray hair, her back wasn't bent by life's burdens, and her eyes were still bright. She walked over and naturally reached out to take his schoolbag.

Lin Dong didn't give it to her.

He suddenly reached out and hugged his mother tightly.

The mother froze.

"Ah Dong?" Her voice was a little flustered. "What's wrong? Were you bullied at school? Who bullied you? Tell Mom."

Lin Dong didn't say anything, he just hugged her tightly. He could smell the cooking oil on his mother, mixed with the fresh scent of cheap soap, and a... vivid, warm, "Mom" scent.

This is not a dream.

"You silly child..." His mother snapped out of her reverie, gently patted his back, and softened her voice, "Is the pressure of the exam too much? It's okay, it's alright if you didn't do well on one test..."

"No," Lin Dong buried his face in her shoulder, his voice muffled, "I just missed you."

The mother laughed, a laugh tinged with both helplessness and affection: "Silly child, didn't we just see each other this morning? Take your hands off, the food in the pot is going to burn."

Lin Dong released his grip, his eyes feeling a little hot.

"Mom, let me help you."

"No need, no need, go read your book, it'll be ready soon." His mother pushed him, but Lin Dong had already squeezed into the kitchen.

The kitchen was tiny; it was difficult to even turn around. Watercress and pork rib soup was simmering on the stove, while kale was being stir-fried in another pot. Lin Dong naturally picked up a clove of garlic and began peeling it.

His mother stared at his practiced movements, then asked in surprise, "When did you learn to peel garlic?"

"I always will." Lin Dong didn't look up, his fingers deftly peeling the garlic. "Mom, you take a break, I'll watch the soup."

The mother stood in the kitchen doorway, watching her son's retreating figure. His school uniform was still a little too big for him, but his shoulders had straightened. She looked at him for a long time before softly saying, "Adong, you seem... grown up today."

Lin Dong paused in his actions. His mother's words warmed his heart, and a surge of warmth, even if it were all a dream, washed away all his tension and unease.

"Mom," he turned around and looked at his mother, "I've grown up a long time ago."

When his father, Lin Guodong, returned home, dinner was already on the table.

He pushed his old Phoenix bicycle through the door, two plastic bags hanging from the handlebars. Seeing Lin Dong setting the table, he paused for a moment, then smiled and said, "Wow, the sun's risen in the west?"

"Dad." Lin Dong walked over and took the bag from his hand.

His father's hands were rough, his palms calloused, and his knuckles large. Lin Dong squeezed them, and the warmth of his hands made his heart ache.

"I bought your favorite braised goose," the father said as he changed his shoes, "and some dried tofu. It's a holiday today, so let's treat ourselves."

On the table, the braised goose, glistening with oil, sits in the center. The Puning dried tofu casserole is still sizzling, the watercress soup is steaming, and the stir-fried kale is vibrant green.

The three of them sat down.

"Here, Adong, have some goose leg." His mother picked up the biggest piece and put it in his bowl.

"Mom, you eat it yourself."

"I don't like meat, you eat it." His mother said, then ladled him a bowl of soup. "Watercress helps to cool you down. You're under a lot of pressure in your senior year of high school, drink more."

The father didn't say anything, but silently pushed the tofu casserole towards him.

Lin Dong picked up the bowl and shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth. The rice was a little soft, but still steaming hot. Mixed with the braising sauce, it was savory and delicious.

It's the taste.

In his past life in Shenzhen, he had eaten at Michelin-starred restaurants and private kitchens, but none of the meals tasted like this.

This is the taste of home.

"Dad," he looked up, "you eat too."

The father grunted in agreement, picked up a piece of dried bean curd, and slowly chewed it in his mouth.

"How's it going at the factory today?" the mother asked.

"The same as always." The father took a sip of soup. "We're rushing to finish this year-end, so we'll have to work overtime again."

"Your back isn't good, don't push yourself."

"Know."

It was an ordinary conversation. But as Lin Dong listened, his eyes began to well up with tears again. He lowered his head and shoveled rice into his mouth.

"Oh, right," the mother suddenly remembered something, "Adong, is your down jacket old? I'll go with you to buy a new one tomorrow."

"No need, Mom, I can still wear it."

"What can you wear? The sleeves are too short." The mother said, taking an envelope out of her pocket. "Your dad got his wages today and left you three hundred. It's almost New Year's, buy yourself a new one."

Lin Dong didn't take it: "Mom, I really don't need it. You guys keep it..."

"Take it if I tell you to," the father said, his voice low but firm. "You're in your final year of high school, dress presentably."

Lin Dong looked at the envelope; he knew where the three hundred yuan had come from. His father worked in a hardware factory, standing for twelve hours a day, earning a thousand yuan a month.

The mother sewed eyes onto the dolls, earning one cent for each one.

This is something they saved up from the smallest of times.

"Dad, Mom..."

He opened his mouth.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Three taps, neither too light nor too heavy.

Very polite.

The three people in the room were stunned.

The smile on Mother's face slowly faded. Father put down his chopsticks and glanced at Mother.

"You all eat," the father stood up, "I'll go check on things."

He walked to the door, took a deep breath, and then opened it.

There were three people standing outside the door.

The man in the leather jacket stood at the front, carrying two beautifully packaged boxes of pastries. He smiled, his gaze passing over his father and landing on the dining table, on the steaming dishes.

"Ah Guo," he said with a smile, "Good evening. Having dinner?"

His voice was very gentle.

But the air inside the room suddenly turned cold.

"What brings Xiong-ge here?" Father Lin Guodong closed the door, forcing a smile. "Sit down, sit down, want to have something to eat?"

"I've already eaten." Chen Xiong waved his hand, his gaze sweeping across the table before finally settling on Lin Dong. "Dong's grown so tall! Are you in your final year of high school?"

Lin Dong put down his bowl and stood up: "Uncle Xiong."

"sensible."

Chen Xiong nodded, took out a small notebook from his pocket, flipped through a few pages, and said, "Ah Guo, I shouldn't have disturbed your dinner. But with the end of the year approaching, it's time to settle the old accounts."

The father's smile froze: "Yes, it's time to clear it up..."

"I borrowed 60,000 yuan ten years ago. According to the interest agreed upon at the time, it should be 113,000 yuan by now. I have paid back 10,000 yuan over the years."

Chen Xiong's voice was calm. "This year has been tough for everyone. I'll compromise again and round it down to 100,000 yuan."

He paused, then looked at Lin Dong: "Dong, you've read a lot of books, help Uncle Xiong calculate, is 100,000 yuan fair or not?"