Green Mountain Town, as the name suggests, was a small village nestled among lush green hills. It was hard to imagine such a secluded spot existing near City S, the nation's busiest metropolis. My father was born and raised here.

What to say about Dad? His IQ and AQ were high, but his EQ was oddly low—he was a bit wooden, though meticulous and serious in everything he did.

Mom often bragged to Xiaoxi and me about her college days. In her stories, she’d been the campus beauty queen, with suitors lining up from her dorm all the way across the street.

I didn’t doubt it. She looked barely thirty despite nearing forty. Sure, her flawless skincare helped, but her natural looks were the real reason—just look at Xiaoxi. With Dad’s genes alone, I’d maxed out at my current level. That’s why I’d ask Mom why she’d chosen him. He wasn’t fun or handsome; they seemed mismatched.

Mom always dodged the question at first. But after Xiaoxi and I pestered her endlessly, she finally mumbled an answer.

In her tale, Dad fell for her at first sight in college. Unlike other suitors, he never sent flowers, money, or took her out. He just kept cooking her homemade meals. She found him intriguing, and somehow, they ended up together—married before even graduating.

Honestly, Xiaoxi believed this story wholeheartedly, even romanticizing their unconventional love. But I was deeply skeptical. Dad had virtues—diligent, precise, perfectionist—but only when cooking. I chatted with strangers; Dad was painfully quiet. The idea of him boldly pursuing a girl with such creativity? No one would buy it.

We never got to ask Dad directly, so the matter faded. If Mom hadn’t gotten drunk later, Xiaoxi and I might never have learned the truth…

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Still, my parents adored each other, unchanged after all these years. But unlike Mom’s warmth toward Dad, Grandpa always disapproved of him.

Ever since Dad abandoned his career to become a chef, Grandpa had given him nothing but cold stares.

It made sense. To Grandpa, Dad had worked so hard to graduate college with top grades—a bright future ahead—only to choose cooking.

Dad knew better than to argue. He accepted Grandpa’s scolding silently, respecting old-fashioned views. Eventually, Grandpa stopped ranting but never softened his glare.

Dad rarely stayed long in China due to work, so visits were scarce. Yet whenever he had even a single free day, he’d rush back home.

Though Grandpa always frowned, I knew he was secretly happy. Compared to Dad, Mom—beautiful and warm—felt like their real daughter.

Every Lunar New Year, our family of four gathered. Only Dad never received a red envelope. During the reunion dinner, Grandma, Mom, Xiaoxi, and I would watch as Grandpa glared stone-faced. Dad would awkwardly scratch his head, then force a sheepish grin while handing red envelopes to the elders.

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To reach Green Mountain Town, we had only one option: a long-distance bus. Even with air conditioning, TVs, and spacious seats, the two-and-a-half-hour ride was brutal. Worse, we sat at the back—anyone who’s endured that knows the misery.

My head spun dizzily, thoughts thick as glue. I wanted to sleep but didn’t dare—Xiaoxi was already asleep on my shoulder. Why not recline her seat? I worried a sudden brake might throw her off.

I wrapped an arm around her, palm guarding her shoulder for cushioning. Watching the shifting scenery outside, I knew we were nearing Green Mountain Town.

We finally arrived after 3 p.m. Another minute on that bus and I’d have suffocated—my eyelids felt glued shut.

Stretching after stepping off, I took a deep breath. My mind cleared instantly.

I led Xiaoxi to check the roadside sign. Villages changed fast; after half a year away, even roads got confusing.

Last Spring Festival, few houses stood near this stop. Now, new buildings dotted the area, all advertising farm stays.

Farm stays had boomed recently as a trendy getaway. Green Mountain Town lacked cultural depth but boasted stunning views—rolling hills, clear streams, and pastoral fields. City dwellers often drove here on weekends to unwind.

Naturally, many opened farm stays. Grandpa and Grandma, foreseeing the trend early, built a wooden Japanese-style inn. They were the village pioneers.

As a kid, I’d asked why they didn’t build concrete floors for more rooms and profit.

Grandpa insisted, “People come to relax. Why show them steel and cement? Our ancestors knew better.”

He was proven right. Though not the highest earner, their inn became the most unique. Even at triple the price, guests flocked to stay.

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“Bro, open up!” Xiaoxi hugged my arm, pulling a lollipop from her backpack to my lips.

I took it—orange flavor. Not bad!

We strolled slowly, soaking in the scenery.

Green hills, clear waters, rice fields, and floral scents.

“Bro… water buffaloes!” Xiaoxi tugged me toward the fields.

I glanced. Sure enough, a few old buffaloes grazed there.

“Mm…” I mumbled. What’s the big deal? I just wanted to reach Grandpa’s and nap.

“Bro… waterwheels!” She pulled me toward the river.

Several wheels spun tirelessly—round and round! My head throbbed.

“Mm…” I sighed. Can’t she stay quiet? Her voice was sweet, but right now it grated like noise.

“Bro?” Xiaoxi’s tone shifted. I didn’t notice.

“Mm…” Habit took over. Just keep walking faster. Seriously.

“Stop with the ‘mm’s!” she snapped, a hint of anger in her voice.

“Mm—ow! You pinched me!” Pain jolted me awake. I checked my arm—a deep nail mark bloomed. Did she have no restraint?

“Are you here to enjoy yourself? Cheer up!” She tugged my lips upward, trying to force a smile.

That just made a silly face. I jerked back, escaping her grip. I wanted to flick her forehead as payback, but one hand held my suitcase, the other was trapped by her.

“You ungrateful brat! You slept soundly on the bus! That Comet Crash wake-up call last night ruined my sleep. What’s wrong with you? Why not just shout normally? And why lean on me instead of reclining your seat? I had to guard you, scared you’d hit your head! Do you know how exhausted I am? My brain’s pure mush—shake it and see!” I ranted around the lollipop, breathless.

“Huh?! Does it hurt?” Xiaoxi touched the pinched spot.

Warmth flooded me. She actually listened? Cared? I’d mark this date forever.

“It hurts! Of course it does! Trim your nails—they’re too long!” I grimaced dramatically, teasing her after so long.

“No cut. It’s fine,” she insisted, examining my arm.

“My head hurts. Only your silence can fix it,” I joked.

“Ow! You bite like a dog!” I stared at the fresh teeth marks. She really went all out.

“That’s for lying! Next time, I won’t hold back.” She made a silly face, yanked her arm free, and skipped ahead.

“Hurry up! It’s getting dark! Stop dragging your feet—are you even a guy?” she called back.

“You talk easy. Who do you think packed this suitcase?” I grumbled, but she didn’t wait, bouncing farther away.

“Xiaoxi, slow down! Wait for me!” I yelled, dragging my suitcase as I jogged after her vanishing figure.