Mao Kangshan made the final decision.
Madam Song could only listen to him.
It was truly difficult for Xiao Xia, having to worry about her and Old Mao.
Whoever accepted Xiao Xia as a disciple would be greatly blessed – such a disciple was even more caring than one’s children.
Madam Song felt grateful to Xia Xiaolan while worrying about Mao Guosheng.
With three children and approaching forty years of age, it was truly pathetic that he was rendered speechless by Xia Xiaolan. If he had any counter-arguments, he wouldn’t have stuttered “you, you, you” before falling silent.
Xia Xiaolan had given Mao Guosheng a bitter pill to swallow, leaving him burning with shame and frustration.
Thinking about how Xia Xiaolan was paying for his food and lodging, Mao Guosheng felt his pride crumble, and with a flushed face, he started packing to return to Hangzhou.
While Madam Song was deeply worried, Mao Kangshan didn’t even lift his eyelids:
“Let him go. Once he leaves this time, he shouldn’t blame his father for not helping in the future. Mao Guosheng, have you not considered what Xiaolan said?”
Mao Guosheng’s face turned purple, finally expressing his long-suppressed frustration:
“You’re happy to help an outsider, and after helping her, she gets to point fingers and scold me! You’re content with just having her as your disciple – she’s wealthy, filial, and has talent in architecture. She’ll become your pride, and you don’t need… don’t need a son like me!”
He couldn’t speak with Xia Xiaolan’s wit that everyone loved.
He didn’t have Xia Xiaolan’s capabilities either.
Even in his youth, he wasn’t as sharp as Xia Xiaolan.
A few days ago, Mao Guosheng tried to learn about Xia Xiaolan’s background from Liu Yong. Her uncle, Liu Yong naturally took the opportunity to praise his niece. Things like being Yunan Province’s top scorer in the college entrance exam, ranking third nationally – Mao Guosheng became numb hearing it all.
Even if Mao Guosheng was 20 years younger taking the college entrance exam, he knew how difficult it was to be the province’s top scorer.
Mao Kangshan widened his eyes, “What nonsense are you talking about? Your mother is standing right here. If you don’t want to be my son, first return your life to her who carried you for ten months and raised you!”
As Mao Guosheng exploded, Mao Kangshan stood his ground.
Madam Song stood aside, tears streaming down her face.
“You only get one life as father and son, please talk it out properly, don’t fight…”
At least not fight like this – it was too damaging to their relationship.
While Mao Kangshan could be tough with Mao Guosheng, seeing his wife in tears dampened his anger by half.
Slumping in his chair, Mao Kangshan began to doubt himself.
Was he wrong?
But with Guosheng’s temperament and mindset, wouldn’t forcing him forward also harm him?
Mao Kangshan had been feeling proud earlier, believing Ning Yanfan shouldn’t be ranked above him, but now thinking about it, setting aside professional architectural abilities, Ning Yanfan was more successful in educating his children.
Even that “softie” Ning raised children who were quite sophisticated.
In others’ eyes, being a government official like Ning Xue’s father was already considered a very good career.
Ning Yanfan never forced his children to study architecture.
Mao Kangshan thought about his three sons and two daughters, plus his eldest son who passed away early – every one of them worked in architecture-related fields.
He never considered letting his children study anything else. Professional family succession wasn’t something that only started after the country’s founding – a blacksmith’s son learned ironwork, a farmer’s son continued farming, an official’s son studied to continue being an official… this was China’s age-old cultural tradition.
“Forget it, if you want to leave then leave. Whatever path you choose from now on is your own choice, I won’t interfere anymore.”
Mao Kangshan said “won’t interfere” twice, but with different emotions. Earlier it was to provoke Mao Guosheng, now it carried a sense of helpless resignation.
Mao Guosheng was stunned.
Mao Kangshan rarely showed weakness, especially in front of his children – there were probably only a few instances in his entire life.
These past few days, Mao Guosheng had noticed how happy Mao Kangshan was.
Though tired, Mao Kangshan was particularly energetic. If Mao Guosheng had to describe it, that energy resembled the time before the Down to the Countryside Movement. He remembered then, that Mao Kangshan’s voice was always so loud – their house was small, yet every weekend it would be packed with Mao Kangshan’s students, and his booming voice teaching them could be heard throughout the entire residential compound.
Mao Guosheng’s earlier courage instantly deflated.
Xia Xiaolan hadn’t misjudged Mao Guosheng – compared to his wife Zheng Shuqin, he was indeed unremarkable, but he still had some sense of shame. Xia Xiaolan’s provocations these days had pushed his sense of shame to its limit, leaving him feeling ashamed, regretful, and confused.
Xia Xiaolan’s “filial piety” made Mao Guosheng ashamed of his neglect toward his parents.
While he might not have great abilities, allowing his parents to eat plain noodles daily and letting his mother climb six floors despite her leg problems were things Mao Guosheng had tacitly permitted.
They shouldn’t have changed houses.
And shouldn’t have let the elderly be so frugal.
His care for his parents didn’t match that of an outsider, naturally leaving him ashamed and regretful.
The confusion was about his future.
He wasn’t content being unknown at the Provincial Design Institute, yet didn’t know how to change that.
Previously thinking he was just unlucky, it wasn’t until he came to Pengcheng that he learned what it meant to be completely outclassed. He was outclassed by the young Xia Xiaolan – true, his foundational knowledge was stronger than hers, but he lacked her impressive abilities. Forget challenging Ning Yanfan’s designs at age 20 – even now approaching 40, if Ning Yanfan’s designs were placed before him, he wouldn’t dare touch them.
He feared Ning Yanfan’s reputation and lacked confidence in his abilities.
Beyond shame, regret, and confusion, Mao Guosheng also felt inferior.
Was his father not promoting him because he lacked ability and brought shame to the Mao family?
For a moment, both father and son were silent.
Mao Guosheng dropped the clothes in his hands, mumbling:
“How did it come to this…”
In his youth, he too had been ambitious, believing he would shine brightly in the architectural field. He had been confident, being the only one of the three Mao brothers assigned to the Provincial Design Institute by their father.
When did he start becoming so timid?
When did he start blaming heaven and earth for his troubles?
Madam Song was still wiping her tears.
Mao Kangshan was disheartened.
Mao Guosheng wore a bewildered expression.
The silence in the room was truly frightening.
It’s only at times like these that people realize arguing isn’t the worst situation. Arguments stem from dissatisfaction with the current state, from still wanting to improve things, just not knowing how. When people no longer have the energy to argue – that’s truly terrifying.
However, Mao Guosheng didn’t mention leaving again.
None of the three family members brought up the matter again.
Fortunately, Xia Xiaolan was magnanimous, pretending not to notice the Mao family’s unusual atmosphere. She had lanced the abscess, but she didn’t have any special medicine for how it should heal.
Xia Xiaolan’s first meeting with her fellow disciple Zhou Maotong happened in this atmosphere.
Zhou Maotong was in his forties, in his prime, and his career success made him appear vigorous.
This vigor carried a sense of stability – after all, before its restructuring, Guangdong Provincial Construction wasn’t a corporation, and Zhou Maotong as a leader carried traces of the system.
Upon meeting Xia Xiaolan, Zhou Maotong’s first question was:
“I heard from our teacher that little martial sister is from Tsinghua University’s Architecture Class of ’84?”