September 15, 2000 — Saturday morning
Wang Zixuan was woken not by an alarm clock, but by the sound of his grandmother's slippers flap-flap-flap across the wooden floor. The rhythmic sound echoed softly through the quiet house, weaving through the warmth of the morning light filtering through the curtains.
"Zixuan! Get up, breakfast is getting cold!" she called, voice sharp enough to slice through even his best dreams.
He groaned into his pillow. "Five more minutes, Grandma…"
The softness of his bed fought for him to stay longer, but deep down he knew better. His grandmother's voice was never just noise—it carried a command, seasoned with years of care.
"Five more minutes and your grandpa will have eaten your egg," she threatened, voice rising slightly but carrying a warmth beneath the sharpness.
That got him upright. Half-asleep and hair sticking in every direction, he shuffled to the dining table where a steaming bowl of porridge, two fried dough sticks, and a suspiciously green plate of vegetables awaited him. The familiar aroma of the congee filled his nostrils, comforting and grounding him in a way only home-cooked food could.
As he looked at the plate of bok choy, he sighed inwardly. He knew this was one battle he wasn't going to win. Vegetables were a chore he couldn't escape.
"Eat the bok choy first," Grandma said, pointing with her chopsticks with an air of authority.
"Grandma, I'm a growing boy. I need—"
"Vegetables," she interrupted, sliding the plate closer with the firmness of someone who had won many such battles over breakfast.
Zixuan glanced at his grandpa, who was pretending to be absorbed in his newspaper, but his smirk betrayed him.
"Don't listen to her, eat the youtiao first before it gets soggy," Grandpa said, voice low and conspiratorial.
Zixuan chuckled softly. "Old man!" Grandma smacked the table lightly, the sound startling Zixuan just enough to make him laugh softly despite the sleepy haze.
While she turned to refill the teapot, Grandpa leaned forward and slipped something into Zixuan's palm under the table.
A folded 50 yuan note.
"For snacks," Grandpa whispered like it was a spy mission.
Zixuan's eyes lit up, and a rush of warmth spread through his chest. It wasn't just the money—it was the quiet act of kindness, the way his grandpa made him feel like he had a secret ally.
"Thanks, Grandpa—"
"—And don't tell your grandma," he added with a conspiratorial wink.
Of course, Grandma's hearing was sharp as ever.
"What don't tell me?" she demanded.
Both of them froze. Zixuan stuffed the money into his pocket with the smoothness of someone used to operating under enemy surveillance.
"I said… don't tell me if you can't finish your vegetables," Grandpa lied, flipping the newspaper like a professional actor.
Grandma narrowed her eyes but let it slide — for now.
Zixuan smiled inwardly. Even in this little family squabble, the love was unmistakable.
---
Across town, Su Nian's Saturday had started with the metallic screech of disaster.
Her father was in the front yard, "repairing" the squeaky gate for the third time this month. Each shove of the hinges produced a noise that sounded like a dying goose.
Jiang Moxi, hands in her pockets, stood by watching. "Is… that normal?"
"It is in my house," Su Nian muttered, handing her father a cup of tea like a battlefield medic delivering supplies.
Her father tested the gate again — screeeech-CLANG — and looked very proud of himself. "See? Much better."
Su Nian and Moxi exchanged a long, silent look.
"Maybe it's… an acquired sound?" Moxi offered.
Su Nian bit her lip, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
Before Su Nian could reply, her mother's voice rang out from inside, "Su Nian! Change your clothes, we're going out later!"
The familiar, slightly frantic tone pulled Su Nian out of her thoughts.
---
September 15, 2000 — Saturday morning (Continued)
Su Nian sighed, resigned to changing clothes before her mother yelled again.
As she walked to her room, her mind wandered. The gate was a small thing, but it felt like a symbol of their household—noisy, imperfect, trying its best to hold together despite the flaws.
Moxi followed her inside, clearly in no hurry to leave.
"You're coming too?" Su Nian asked, pulling a fresh shirt from the wardrobe.
"Why not? I've got nothing better to do. Besides…" Moxi smirked. "Someone needs to witness your public humiliation if your dad keeps bringing that gate sound into the streets."
Su Nian threw a pillow at her, laughing despite herself.
For a moment, the tension of the day melted away in shared humor.
---
Meanwhile, back at the Wang household, Zixuan had just escaped Grandma's vegetable attack and was slipping on his sneakers when his phone buzzed.
Luo Minghao:
We're meeting at the corner store in 20. Bring money.
Zixuan:
I have money. Bring a brain.
Grabbing the 50-yuan note Grandpa had slipped him, Zixuan headed out, whistling a low tune. He felt the thrill of the coming afternoon—the freedom of youth, the easy camaraderie.
---
The corner store was their unofficial headquarters — snacks, cheap drinks, and a bored shopkeeper who had long given up scolding them for loitering. The store smelled of stale chips, crushed sunflower seeds, and a faint undertone of incense from a little altar tucked in the corner.
Luo Minghao was already there, leaning against the freezer like he owned the place, a bottle of orange soda in one hand. Beside him was Chen Bo, balancing a bag of sunflower seeds on his head for no apparent reason.
"You're late," Minghao said, smirking with mock disappointment.
"You're ugly," Zixuan replied, grabbing a bottle from the fridge and popping it open with practiced ease.
Before the insult war could escalate, Minghao pointed toward the street. "Hey, isn't that… Su Nian?"
The three boys turned their heads, eyes locking on Su Nian as she walked down the street, Moxi trailing behind like an unwilling bodyguard.
Luo Minghao smirked. "Well, well. The school's mystery girl finally shows up."
Chen Bo elbowed Zixuan. "You gonna say something or just stare like a statue?"
Zixuan took a slow, deliberate sip of his soda, then set it down with a confident clack. "Say something? Please. I'm not here to be polite. I'm here to make her notice me — whether she likes it or not."
Minghao laughed. "Yeah, right. More like you're afraid to mess up your perfect record of 'cool loner.'"
Zixuan's grin was sharp. "Better 'cool loner' than desperate fanboy. Besides, I don't chase — I make people chase me."
Chen Bo snorted. "You wish."
Su Nian glanced back, catching their gaze. Her cheeks burned red, but she kept walking, clutching her bag like it was armor.
Minghao shrugged. "Looks like someone noticed."
Zixuan shrugged, cool as ever. "Let her think what she wants. Confidence is everything. And I'm the whole package."
---
Su Nian turned the corner, and Moxi caught up with her, bumping her shoulder.
"You okay?" Moxi asked, eyes sharp.
Su Nian hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just don't want to be the center of attention."
Moxi smirked. "Well, you've got their attention now. Might as well enjoy the show."
Su Nian forced a smile but her heart pounded with nerves and uncertainty.
---
Later that Saturday afternoon — Jiang Moxi's Home
The heavy front door slammed behind Moxi as she stepped inside, hands stuffed deep in her jacket pockets. The faint smell of old wood and lemon cleaner filled the air.
Her father sat rigid in the living room, brows knitted over a newspaper, eyes sharp and unyielding.
"Moxi, your room isn't a storage closet. Pick up your things," he said, voice firm but not unkind.
Moxi's jaw tightened. "I'm not a kid anymore."
He folded the paper slowly and met her gaze. "And yet you act like one. You're old enough to understand responsibility."
She scoffed, turning toward the stairs. "Maybe if you acted more like a father than a commander, I'd listen."
His expression flickered—brief, almost invisible—before settling back into his stoic mask.
"I do what I must," he said quietly. "Your mother's gone. I'm trying to keep things together."
Moxi paused on the bottom step, voice softer but edged with hurt. "By marrying her?"
He looked away, swallowing. "That was… for the family. You need to try to accept it."
She shook her head and climbed the stairs, footsteps heavy.
Behind her, he exhaled slowly, alone with his regrets.
---
An hour later, in Moxi's room
Moxi sat on the edge of her bed, staring at a faded photograph on her desk—a picture of her mother, smiling gently, holding baby Moxi in her arms.
The edges were worn, but the image was clear enough to stir a pang of longing.
Her new stepmother's voice floated faintly from downstairs, mingled with the sounds of dishes clinking and quiet conversation.
Moxi bit her lip, eyes misting. She wasn't ready to forgive. Maybe not yet.
But for now, she let the silence hold her.
---
Meanwhile — Su Nian's Home
Inside, the house was bustling with activity. Her mother, dressed neatly in a floral blouse, checked the clock anxiously.
"Su Nian, are you ready? We have to be at your aunt's by noon."
Su Nian nodded, tugging her shirt lower, trying to smooth out invisible wrinkles.
Her father sat at the kitchen table, sipping his tea, eyes tired but kind. He looked up as Su Nian passed, offering a small smile.
"You'll do fine," he said softly.
Su Nian returned the smile, feeling the weight of his unspoken support.
---
In the living room, Su Nian's younger brother was sprawled on the floor, watching cartoons loudly.
Her mother called, "Don't forget your jacket! It's chilly outside."
Su Nian grabbed her bag and jacket, glancing back at her family—messy, imperfect, but hers.
Her mother noticed and smiled warmly. "Family is what holds us together, no matter how loud or quiet."
Su Nian thought about that as she headed out the door with Moxi trailing behind her.
---
Later that evening — Luo Minghao's House
The clatter of plates echoed through the modest kitchen as Minghao's mother scolded him for being late to dinner.
"Minghao, you can't just disappear all day! Homework waits for no one."
Minghao rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "I'm here now. No need to make it a war zone."
His father, reading the evening paper, glanced up. "School comes first, but don't forget family."
Minghao shoved a chair back, ready to eat. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."
Despite the teasing, the warmth between them was clear—one loud, chaotic family who loved each other, even when they drove each other crazy.
---
Across Town — Chen Bo's Home
Chen Bo's family lived in a cramped apartment filled with laughter and constant noise.
His younger sister tugged at his sleeve. "Bo, play with me!"
His mother called from the living room, "Don't forget to finish your studies before TV!"
Chen Bo grinned, ruffling his sister's hair. "Okay, okay, give me five minutes."
His father, sitting in the corner with a quiet smile, watched the lively scene, proud but tired.
Chen Bo's life was full of noise and affection, sometimes chaotic but always grounded.
---
Back to the Wang Household
Later that evening, the family gathered around the small dining table again.
Grandpa cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Family is everything," he said, looking each of them in the eye.
Grandma nodded, ladling soup into bowls. "Even if we don't say it every day, we're here. Together."
Zixuan glanced at his grandparents, feeling the quiet strength of their love.
"Tomorrow's another day," Grandpa added with a smile. "And whatever happens, we face it as a family."
Zixuan smiled back, the simple warmth of those words wrapping around him like a blanket.
---
Sometimes families don't say what they mean directly, and sometimes the noise, the teasing, or even the silence speaks louder than words.
In the chaos of Saturday mornings, the sharpness of small fights, or the quiet of a shared meal, these families—different but the same—held each other up.
And for Zixuan, Su Nian, Moxi, Minghao, and Chen Bo, their stories were only just beginning. But the roots that bound them to their families would be the ground they grew from, shaping who they would become, no matter what challenges lay ahead.