Li Feng stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He paused slightly when he saw them both staring at him. Zhao Lihua sat on the floor with Li Xian beside her, a small pile of toys between them that looked barely touched. For a moment, no one spoke.
Li Feng's gaze moved briefly across the room, then toward the small table near the kitchen. The groceries from yesterday were still there. Untouched. A faint crease formed between his brows. He looked back at Zhao Lihua.
"You didn't cook?"
Zhao Lihua froze slightly. "I… I was waiting," she said quietly.
Li Feng was silent for a moment. Then he placed the grocery bag on the table. "I found a job," he said simply. Both Zhao Lihua and Li Xian looked up at him. "It's temporary for now," he continued, walking toward the kitchen. "But it pays." He rolled up his sleeves and began taking out ingredients from the bag. Vegetables. Eggs. A small packet of meat. "If I'm not home," he said calmly, setting a pot on the stove, "you can cook." The sound of running water filled the kitchen as he washed the vegetables. "I bought enough food for a few days. You don't have to wait for me."
He spoke as if the matter were simple. As if this had always been normal.
Behind him, Zhao Lihua remained completely still. Because for the first time in years, Li Feng had come home and spoken to her without anger. And she still didn't know how to respond to that.
---
Li Feng took his time in the kitchen. He set up the rice cooker first, then worked through the rest — tomatoes scrambled with eggs, fried rice, everything prepared without rush. Half an hour later the food was ready. He set the dining table, arranged the plates, and walked back to the living room.
"Food is ready," he said. "You can both eat as much as you like. There's more than enough."
He looked at them as he said it. Both of them were too lean — the kind of thinness that came not from circumstance but from sustained neglect, from a household where meals had been uncertain things. Li Xian still couldn't fully look at him. A small heaviness settled in his chest. *Why would anyone live like this.*
"I'll be inside," he said, and walked back to the kitchen to collect his own plate before heading to the bedroom.
---
He sat on the floor cross-legged, plate in front of him, phone in his hand. He opened his account balance.
¥1,250.
He stared at the number for a moment. For a single person it might last a while. For three people — not even close. He set the phone down and ate a slow bite of rice.
The café job would help, but it wasn't something he could build on. One month, one client, a fixed rate. At best it covered immediate expenses. He needed something else. Something that didn't depend entirely on him being physically present. Something that could grow.
He picked the phone back up and opened the browser. If small businesses struggled with basic analysis the way Chen Wei had — confused by numbers sitting plainly in front of them — there had to be demand for someone who could explain these things properly. He opened U-tube and typed a simple search.
*How to analyze sales data for small businesses.*
Several videos appeared. He tapped one and watched quietly. Then he closed it and opened another. And another. Gradually a small crease formed between his brows.
The explanations were shallow. Surface-level advice. Broad ideas dressed up as insight. Motivational talk about growing your business with very little underneath it. Almost none of them actually broke down numbers. Almost none showed real analysis — the kind that meant something, the kind that found what the data was trying to hide.
Li Feng leaned back against the wall.
In his previous life, content like this had been everywhere. Detailed breakdowns. Case studies. Professionals dissecting real financial reports step by step, walking through the logic, showing the work. Here it was rare. He searched again. *Inventory loss analysis.* More videos. Same thing. Surface-level. No depth.
He stared at the screen.
On the surface this world looked exactly the same as the one he remembered. Same cities. Same technology. Same platforms. Yet when it came to certain kinds of knowledge, there were gaps. Subtle ones. The kind most people wouldn't notice because everything looked familiar at first glance.
But Li Feng noticed.
A faint smile appeared on his lips.
*So that's how it is.*
If the knowledge that had once been common in his world wasn't widely shared here — then that meant one thing.
Opportunity.
Li Feng tapped the Create Channel option. If the knowledge wasn't there, then he would provide it himself. The setup process was simple. He entered his name and filled out the profile description carefully.
*Li Feng — Business Consultant & Data Analyst*
Below it he added a short introduction:
*Helping small businesses understand their numbers. Business analysis, data breakdowns, and tutoring.*
He reviewed the page once more. Clean. Professional. Nothing exaggerated. Satisfied, Li Feng placed the phone down. It was already late.
"I'll do it tomorrow morning," he murmured to himself.
---
He finished his meal and sat quietly for a few minutes. From the dining area came faint sounds of movement — the soft clink of chopsticks against plates, Li Xian's small voice saying something to her mother. He waited. He didn't want to walk out suddenly and startle them.
When he stepped into the hallway a few minutes later, he stopped.
Li Xian was standing on her chair, laughing as she tried to balance herself. Zhao Lihua was smiling, one hand held lightly against the child's side to keep her from falling. The room looked warm. Peaceful. The kind of moment that had probably been rare in this apartment for a long time.
Then Li Xian noticed him.
The laughter stopped instantly. She sat down quickly. Zhao Lihua's smile disappeared and she lowered her head. The warmth drained from the room as if a window had been opened in winter.
Li Feng felt the heaviness in his chest again. But he said nothing about it. He walked past them toward the kitchen. "Bring the plates to the sink," he said calmly.
Zhao Lihua hesitated. Then she quietly gathered the dishes from the table and followed him in.
They both paused as she entered. For a brief moment their eyes met. Zhao Lihua lowered her gaze quickly. "W… where should I put them?" she asked softly.
Li Feng gestured toward the sink. "There."
She placed the plates carefully and stood for a moment, uncertain whether to stay or leave. Li Feng spoke again without turning around. "I'll be sleeping in the living room from now on."
Zhao Lihua went still. Her back stiffened slightly. But she didn't turn around. After a second she gave a faint nod and walked out of the kitchen without a word.
Li Feng let out a quiet breath. He rolled up his sleeves and began washing the dishes. The sound of running water filled the small kitchen. When he finished he rinsed his hands, took a sip of water, and stood for a moment in the quiet.
---
The apartment was still. In the living room the blanket he had left on the sofa earlier was where he'd placed it. He turned off the lights and lay down.
Tomorrow morning he would record his first video.
Within minutes, he closed his eyes and slept.