Chapter 17: I Hoped My Father Would Become a Dragon, Part 2

When Qin Ye was browsing this website, he accidentally stumbled into the dark web of this world. He glanced briefly before exiting, carefully erasing all traces, but he knew himself well—he was just a novice when it came to network programming. So, he asked Xiao San to help clean up after him once more.

The main plot of this world was a sweet romance between the male and female leads, from school uniforms to wedding dresses. Compared to the protagonists of the previous world, at least so far, Qin Ye hadn’t found anything wrong with the leads here. The last world’s leads, just from what was written on Bai Juan, were clearly not normal—they were deeply troubled.

At this moment, Qin Ye was like a seasoned player entering a beginner’s village, rapidly leveling up. The blank account he had just registered was quickly skyrocketing in rank, as if riding a rocket. And the gold coins in his account soon reached five digits.

One gold coin on the website was worth one hundred units of real currency—a one-to-one hundred ratio. It wasn’t that the rewards offered by the task posters were excessively generous, but rather that Qin Ye was answering an enormous number of questions. The website didn’t have many active users, but had accumulated a vast number of tasks. Those capable of solving them weren’t interested in the mere handful of coins as reward; those who wanted the rewards simply lacked the necessary skills.

Some bounty tasks required the respondent to propose feasible solutions to hypothetical scenarios—essentially real-world business projects. If someone could solve that, why bother with the meager reward? Wouldn’t it be better to apply directly to one of the world’s top ten leading enterprises?

For all these reasons, Qin Ye, who just wanted to quickly earn his first bucket of gold, seemed like a money-lover who’d fallen into a vault, sweeping through the accumulated tasks at lightning speed. Bit by bit, his account reached five digits.

At this point, there were virtually no remaining bounty tasks on the website. Qin Ye stopped, still unsatisfied, withdrew his gold coins, and then exited the site. Naturally, Xiao San handled the cleaning up during the withdrawal, so the site owner wouldn’t be able to trace Qin Ye through the transaction amounts.

The card was also handled by Xiao San; the original owner didn’t even have an ID, let alone a bank card. To prove he wasn’t acting out of personal vendetta, Xiao San didn’t utter a single word of protest to Qin Ye’s requests.

When Qin Ye borrowed Zhou Taixian’s phone, Zhou Taixian watched with interest at first, but soon grew bored as Qin Ye kept opening and closing websites like he was just playing around. Losing interest, Zhou Taixian turned to his mobile game, and now, seeing the intense battle, his face was flushed as he exchanged friendly greetings with his teammates.

Qin Ye closed his laptop and lay down to rest. This body was wracked with chronic ailments, surviving only by the strength of Qin Ye’s soul—once he stopped sustaining it, it would perish instantly.

Now that he had his first bucket of gold, his next step was to recuperate, then establish a company, earning money while making a glorious return.

Meanwhile, at Beifeng Middle School, it was after-school hours, and clusters of students in blue-and-white uniforms streamed out of the teaching building.

“Qin Zhan, want to catch a movie tonight?”

It was Huang Mingyuan, a day student like Qin Zhan, who called out to him. Huang Mingyuan’s home was nearby—right across from the school—so he had arranged to be a day student.

Tomorrow was the weekend; there was no evening self-study tonight. Huang Mingyuan had invited some classmates to see a movie and spotted Qin Zhan, so he asked.

He already knew the answer.

Sure enough, Qin Zhan shook his head. “No, I have something to do tonight.”

“Alright,” Huang Mingyuan shrugged, watching Qin Zhan, with his single-shoulder bag, quickly disappear from sight.

“Hey, why bother talking to him? With his family situation, it’s obvious he wouldn’t waste money on a movie,” Huang Mingyuan’s friend said, draping an arm over his shoulder, puzzled at why he approached Qin Zhan.

“I just thought, since he works so hard, if he agreed to go, I’d cover his ticket.”

“You’re kind-hearted, but he wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Forget it, let’s go.”

Qin Zhan returned home to an empty house; his mother, Yang Xiufen, had surely gone out to collect cardboard boxes again. The house was filled with boxes, neatly stacked in corners by Yang Xiufen, making the already cramped rooms even more crowded.

Yang Xiufen was uneducated, even less so than Qin Ergou. Her name was only better because an old scholar happened to be in the village when she was born. Her parents took her to ask for a proper name, and thus she was called Yang Xiufen. Otherwise, she would have been named Yang Ni—her childhood nickname—just as Qin Ergou had always been called “Ergou.”

Middle-aged, frail, and uneducated, Yang Xiufen could only do a limited range of work—primarily washing dishes at nearby restaurants. Every day, she soaked her hands in water, washing dishes, wiping tables, cleaning, and sometimes waiting on customers when things got busy. After a day’s toil, she was sore all over.

From morning till night, she never rested, unless the shop owner had to close for a day or half-day, giving workers a break.

Qin Zhan had known since yesterday that his mother’s workplace would close for half the afternoon, but when he came home and found her absent, he knew she must have gone out to collect cardboard and empty bottles.

Actually, the area around the school had the most empty bottles, since students liked drinking beverages, but Yang Xiufen never went there, preferring to walk further to other places. The reason was simple—she didn’t want her son’s classmates to know he had a mother who scavenged for recyclables, sparing him embarrassment.

Qin Zhan put down his bag, went to the kitchen, saw the groceries his mother had bought in advance, and immediately rolled up his sleeves to wash rice, cook, and clean vegetables.

Halfway through, the door opened and Yang Xiufen came in, dragging a sack.

“Tuan Tuan, how many times have I told you? You don’t need to do these chores. Mom can handle it. Your job is to study.”

Yang Xiufen dropped the sack and shooed Qin Zhan out of the kitchen.

Qin Zhan didn’t argue. The rice was already cooking, the vegetables washed and ready; all she had to do was cook them.

“By the way, your father’s birthday is coming soon…”

“My father’s been dead for years,” Qin Zhan replied calmly.

“He just lost contact, he’s not dead.”

“He’s been gone for over a decade. I haven’t seen him since I can remember, and I don’t even recall what he looks like. What’s the difference between being missing and being dead?”

Over ten years ago, photos were a luxury; Yang Xiufen didn’t even have one from her wedding, let alone any others.

So Qin Zhan had never even seen a picture of his father.

“Tuan Tuan, he left for your sake, for us. Something must have happened out there—not that he deliberately never sent word. Don’t say that about him, he’s still your father,” Yang Xiufen pleaded.

Qin Zhan sighed. He actually wished Yang Xiufen would remarry, preferably leaving behind her burdensome son, rather than stubbornly struggling and ruining her health.

As for his father, it was possible he’d died somewhere long ago, but no one ever said it outright. Even if she knew the truth, Yang Xiufen wouldn’t admit it.

But during festivals, Qin Zhan would see her, eyes reddened, silently burning paper money. He never knew who it was for.

Mother and son ate in silence; afterwards, Qin Zhan cleaned up the dishes and headed out.

“I’m going to a classmate’s house to study. I’ve brought the keys; don’t wait up for me.”

“Alright, be careful on the road. And don’t trouble them too much.”

The door closed, revealing Qin Zhan’s handsome, refined features.

His home was on the fifth floor, with no elevator—he had to use the stairs.

The only light in the stairwell came from a sound-activated lamp overhead.

Qin Zhan descended quietly, and when he reached the barbecue street where he worked part-time, he let out a long, weary breath.

Yang Xiufen may have lacked education, but she cared deeply about her child’s schooling. She didn’t want him to be like her—a helpless illiterate, unable to do anything, condemned to struggle at the bottom.

Her hands, soaked in water every day, were swollen and pale. Sometimes they twitched with pain, but she never complained, quietly enduring.

She always gave Qin Zhan the best she could, forbidding him from doing chores and prioritizing his studies above all.

Fortunately, Qin Zhan was a good child—he hadn’t become selfish or ungrateful because of his mother’s boundless love.

He knew well that, given his background, education was crucial—it was his only path out.

While working part-time, Qin Zhan never neglected his studies; his grades were always near the top. Both his teachers and mother were assured of his academic performance.

However, Yang Xiufen didn’t know about his job at the barbecue shop, and Qin Zhan didn’t intend to tell her.

Because tomorrow was the weekend, tonight the barbecue shop was filled with youthful students.

Qin Zhan was clever, observant rather than talkative, and quickly mastered the art of grilling. His food was delicious.

He donned an apron, mask, and cap; his fingers moved swiftly, and soon plates of steaming, fragrant barbecue emerged from his hands.

After the busiest rush, Qin Zhan finally had a moment to rest and drink some water.

He twisted open a bottle of mineral water, about to remove his mask, when he caught a familiar figure in the corner of his eye.

It was a girl with long hair and neat bangs. Her exposed skin was milky white, her features delicate—she looked like a porcelain doll.

That was Ruan Jiaojiao.

Ruan Jiaojiao had originally lived in the same village as the Qin family, but after the demolition, the official in charge—who judged people by their appearance—cut corners. For families like Qin Zhan’s, with no relatives and only a single mother raising a young child, the official slashed the compensation ruthlessly.