Chapter 25: I Hoped My Father Would Soar, Part 10

Qin Zhan still thought Yang Xiufen was oblivious to his deception.

After resolving his family's immediate needs for food, clothing, and shelter, Qin Ye dove into the stock market, making a series of successful moves that multiplied his initial capital many times over. The balance on his card edged toward eight figures—a fortune that, while insignificant to the truly wealthy, was more than enough to fulfill the deepest desires of his predecessor's soul.

To Qin Ergou, having tens of thousands in savings, buying a house and a car for his child, and affording a bride price would have been the pinnacle of accomplishment. But Qin Ye, with a few deft maneuvers, rapidly amassed a fortune, elevating Qin Zhan to the ranks of the second-generation rich without the boy even knowing it.

With ample funds, Qin Ye decided, after careful consideration, to enter the gaming industry. There was already a blockbuster game on the market; his next step was to form a professional esports team. He recruited Zhou Taixian to work with him.

To Zhou Taixian, it all felt like a fever dream—straight out of the opening chapter of a feel-good novel. The protagonist, out of a moment of guilty conscience, had extended a helping hand to his down-and-out, middle-aged roommate. Yet that very same uncle, with a mere change of clothes, transformed into an impeccably dressed gentleman, throwing money around with the air of a tycoon to establish a gaming club—and then invited Zhou to work for him, offering a five-figure base salary.

For Zhou Taixian, calling that a "high" salary was no exaggeration. Even at his most industrious, he barely scraped together eight or nine thousand a month, almost never breaking the ten-thousand mark. Now, his minimum monthly wage would be five figures.

Qin Ye said his value lay in his understanding of games and the network of groups he had joined—he came with his own customer base. But Zhou Taixian knew himself well enough: with Qin Ye's extravagant generosity, his presence or absence would hardly make a difference. The only reason he was included was because the uncle was repaying the kindness Zhou had once shown him.

No wonder it felt like he had stumbled into a protagonist’s script. There were countless good people in this world—many who, after performing a good deed, only brought trouble upon themselves. Stories like his were too far-fetched for most novels; readers would dismiss them as illogical, the author a fool lost in fantasy, lacking any sense of reality. Such things might happen in real life, but only to a rare few.

Indeed, Qin Ye did wish to repay Zhou Taixian. Without the computer Zhou had brought, penniless Qin Ye’s only get-rich-quick ideas would have been the sort that were written into the criminal code—something that would betray the honest nature of the man whose life he had taken over. Even after being swindled so badly, Qin Ergou’s sole obsession was still his family.

After setting up the club, Qin Ye recruited a few talented gamers from the local internet café—kids who’d dropped out of school to spend their days online, but whose gaming skills were formidable. He brought them in for training.

The club needed someone to keep it clean, and as luck would have it, Yang Xiufen had started looking for work elsewhere, only to run into rejection at every turn. Since she refused to idle at home, Qin Ye offered her a job at the club, putting her in charge of cleaning.

His pitch was that he and “the old man” were partners in the business and that she’d have a share of the profits. Yang Xiufen only half-understood what he said, but she did grasp this much: if the club made money, their family would benefit.

Qin Ye didn’t want her to overexert herself, so he only asked her to handle the cleaning, planning to hire someone else to cook. But Yang Xiufen flatly refused, insisting on taking over the kitchen as well.

Qin Zhan ate in the school cafeteria while Qin Ye dined at the club, saving them the expense of a housekeeper.

Yang Xiufen, who was not much for bookkeeping, was delighted at how much they were saving. She thought Ergou had finally gotten lucky—met a benefactor willing to bring him along for the ride, and now their family’s future seemed brighter. Still, she thought Ergou didn’t know how to economize. The old man spent money like water because he could; but Ergou, instead of learning other virtues, had picked up this one perfectly.

Qin Ye didn’t bother to argue. If it made her happy, so be it.

While Qin Ye continued to work hard to secure a worry-free future for Qin Zhan, the school year drew to a close, and students welcomed the summer break.

With his family’s circumstances improved and nutritious meals prepared for him daily, Qin Zhan began to shoot up in height. Huang Mingyuan, upon realizing Qin Zhan had grown taller than him, was baffled. “What, did you start eating livestock feed?”

Freed from the burdens of daily life and the suffocating weight of poverty, Qin Zhan became much more cheerful. The change was most obvious in the way he interacted with his classmates—his relationships improved dramatically.

No longer under constant stress, Qin Zhan’s expression grew livelier, instead of the deadpan face he used to wear. He and Huang Mingyuan became fast friends, and Huang’s habit of slinging his arm around Qin Zhan’s shoulder was finally reciprocated. Given Huang’s sociable nature and the fact that they shared a desk, their friendship blossomed.

Other classmates started to approach Qin Zhan after one struggling student, perplexed by a question, asked him for help and received a clear, concise, and easy-to-understand explanation. Qin Zhan had always done well in the top class, regarded quietly by struggling students as a genius, but he’d never had the time or energy to help others. He’d nap during breaks, leave as soon as school ended, and never attended evening study sessions—making it hard for anyone to get close to him.

Now, things were different. With no need to study late into the night, no exhaustion to catch up on during the day, and no heavy burdens weighing on his mind, Qin Zhan was more open and approachable. He stopped sleeping at his desk. Whenever classmates had questions and the teacher was absent, they would come to him.

Qin Zhan was talented, but without the arrogance of a prodigy who can’t fathom why others struggle with simple problems. Instead, he could explain tricky concepts in plain language, approaching them from the perspective of an average student.

Thanks to this, Qin Zhan’s popularity skyrocketed.

So when Huang Mingyuan realized Qin Zhan was taller than him and asked incredulously, Qin Zhan replied, “That’s right. Go home and try some livestock feed yourself—maybe you’ll catch up.”

His tone was lazy, but his face, for once, radiated the vibrant energy of youth.

Huang Mingyuan immediately recognized the tease and, feigning annoyance, punched Qin Zhan. “You get popular and this is how you treat your deskmate? Don’t forget, you only get one deskmate.”

“Next semester, that might change.”

Huang was momentarily struck silent. After the final exams in the top class, seats were reassigned, and with senior year approaching, things would be stricter. The teacher might even sit Qin Zhan alone, to avoid distractions—top students got such privileges.

Today was the last day. After the morning’s parent-teacher meeting, they would be free to leave in the afternoon.

In the past, no one ever came to Qin Zhan’s parent meetings—or if anyone did, it was usually his mother. More often than not, he was on his own.

Regardless of his parents’ presence, Qin Zhan was always singled out for praise by the teachers. Most of the class had been encouraged by their parents to befriend Qin Zhan and learn from his example.

Huang Mingyuan didn’t ask if Qin Zhan’s family would show up for the meeting. If not, there was no reason to bring it up and make him uncomfortable; if so, he would see them soon enough.

Qin Ye tried to bring Yang Xiufen along, but she refused, saying she wouldn’t understand the teacher’s words and that her attendance would be pointless. Qin Ye didn’t press her and went alone, dressing carefully for the occasion.

Qin Zhan himself didn’t know if anyone would come. He remembered how Qin Ye insisted on sharing a room and picking him up every day from school. He’d just wanted to spare his father the trouble, not realizing his words would make the old man cry on the spot. Suddenly, all his anxiety vanished.

This father was not quite the man he’d imagined. For one, he was a crybaby—quick to tears, quicker to sulk, more addicted to games than any teenager, always running to Qin Zhan for help when he lost. He was a terrible player but never gave up, sneaking off to play when he feared getting caught. Far from the stoic, silent father figure one might expect, he was more like a nagging, overbearing “mom”—eager to shower his son with love from the moment he was born.

All these quirks only served to highlight the father’s unabashed, wholehearted love.

So Qin Zhan didn’t really need to worry—Qin Ye would definitely be there.

When Qin Zhan returned to his classroom after assembly, he found someone already seated at his desk. Qin Ye had dyed his hair jet black and wore glasses. Years of working in dark mines had left his predecessor in poor condition—he couldn’t see well without them.

Attending his son’s parent-teacher meeting for the first time, Qin Ye had even had his hair styled and donned an impeccably tailored suit. If nothing else, he was determined to look dashing.

He certainly succeeded, becoming the center of attention—not just for his looks, but also for his son’s achievements.

The teachers, aware of the hardships the family had endured, lavished praise on Qin Zhan in front of the father they were meeting for the first time. Qin Ye nearly burst out laughing with pride.

He suddenly understood why his elder at the sect always insisted on bringing junior disciples to every grand event. Yes, the joy of showing off one’s talented juniors was truly exhilarating.