novelraw Chapter 42
Chapter 42
Chapter 42Lunch was eaten in near silence.
Ai Lisong couldn’t be bothered to meddle in his son and daughter-in-law’s quarrel; at his age he only wanted a quiet life. The kids’ problems were theirs to solve. A strapping, healthy middle-aged man like Ai Zhongguo wouldn’t starve—no starvation, no illness, that was blessing enough. Everything else was chicken-feed. So Grandpa ate with gusto, deaf to the hush around the table.
The moment he finished, he fetched a rod from the courtyard and called back to Lang Xiangying, “Off to fish. I’ll mind the shop tonight.”
The self-declared “Market-Place God of Angling” strode out proud as a rooster.
Ai Qing had no wish to step into his parents’ mess either. He wolfed down his food, scooped Xiao Yu into his arms, and trotted after Grandpa toward the neighborhood pond, detouring to the storage room to grab a spare rod.
Xiao Yu perched on his shoulder, feline balance impeccable; no matter how fast Ai Qing walked she never slipped. They followed Grandpa’s back until the pond glimmered ahead.
Grandpa picked a sweet spot shaded by the pavilion and a locust tree, unfolded his canvas stool, and began rigging up. Ai Qing was less fussy; he parked himself on the pavilion’s bench, begged some bait from Grandpa, and flipped his hook into the dead center of the water.
Xiao Yu hopped down, crouched on the bench, and stared at the surface, head bobbing lower and lower as though a moon lay underwater waiting to be scooped out.
“Watch her,” Grandpa warned. “No leash, no swimming lessons—if she falls in don’t come crying.”
“She’s good,” Ai Qing said, stroking her head. “This is a pond, all water. You’ve never swum, little girl—stay dry.”
“Hah. She doesn’t speak human. Lose her and I’ll laugh while you bawl.”
“I’m not a kid. I’ll out-fish you this afternoon—don’t sulk when you lose.”
The cat behaved all afternoon, never straying beyond the pavilion stones. At 5:30 they packed up, compared buckets of fingerlings, and poured every last one back.
“Well?”
“Doesn’t count,” Grandpa declared. “Your fur-ball jumped on the rock and scared my catch away.”
“Guess whose side of the pond that rock was on?”
“Smart-mouth. Wait till Grandma lines up a blind date for you.”
Grandfather and grandson bickered all the way home to find dinner already waiting. Tonight the table felt normal.
Yao Qiang glanced at her son. “How’s the novel coming?”
“Not bad.”
“You’ve been at it over a month. Details?”
“Oh, you know...” Ai Qing shrugged. He hadn’t cracked a thousand paying readers yet; better than last time, but the royalty cheque was still small.
“Don’t brush us off,” Ai Zhongguo cut in. “Last book made you more than ten grand. How’s this one? Your grandparents don’t get the internet—explain the money.”
Ai Qing surrendered. “You upload the book, sign with the platform. The first two hundred thousand words are free; after that readers pay per chapter. Fifty-fifty split with the site—that’s my royalty.”
Simple enough; even Grandma and Grandpa, still wrestling with smartphones, understood.
“So how much a month?” his father pressed.
“Goes on sale mid-month. If it holds, maybe four or five thousand?”
“Sounds good to me,” Yao Qiang said calmly. “Better than the last one. Progress counts; the amount is secondary.”
“Title?” Ai Zhongguo demanded.
“When I hit ten grand a month I’ll tell you,” Ai Qing shot back.
Truth was, the book sat sixtieth-or-seventieth on the New-Book chart. In the Light-Novel category—flooded with fan-fiction—an original like his ranked only fourteenth, up from the twenties after a wave of new releases.
“Break ten grand and you’re a bona-fide writer,” Ai Zhongguo laughed. “I’ll brag at the Writers Association.”
Ai Qing rolled his eyes; at this rate Dad would never learn the title.
After dinner Ai Qing followed Grandma to the courtyard to feed the cats.
By the usual hour the wall was lined with little felines, eyes shining like bulbs in the dark.
Xiao Yu stayed inside; Lang Xiangying opened a can for her on the balcony—private dining while the courtyard crew ate communal bowls.
Ai Qing looked from the scruffy youngsters outside to the immaculate white “young lady” in the lit living-room and grinned.
“She’s a year old now,” Grandma mused. “Time to breed her?”
“No,” Ai Qing answered, reflex-fast, then coughed. “No need—we’re not a cattery.”
“Just a thought.” Grandma’s generation believed every female must produce offspring. “Such a pretty thing—shame not to have a litter.”
Xiao Yu, spoon-deep in her can, looked up, blinked at Grandma, then at Ai Qing, puzzled.
“Impossible, Grandma. You’ve got seven or eight regulars, sometimes a dozen—another litter and the yard bursts. Get them neutered; take the crew to Sis Qian’s clinic.”