Chapter 92: A Small Lie
Pei Qian's family lived in a small county just outside of Jingzhou City—not too far.
After getting out of the taxi, Pei Qian carefully checked himself over, making sure there were no giveaways.
The suit, belt, leather shoes he normally wore—all left back in his rental apartment.
A Rolex? Absolutely not bringing that home.
His backpack only contained some daily necessities.
As for that 15,000-yuan Mars gaming laptop? Also a no-go. For this trip, he brought the old notebook he'd bought when he first started university.
It wasn't that Pei Qian was being overly cautious—it was that his parents were like detectives.
You think you can get away with the tiniest clue, that they won't notice?
Then you're just too naive.
If he let something slip and blew his cover, he'd end up having to debate "whether games are spiritual opium" with Old Pei—and that was the last thing he wanted.
After a full-body self-check and confirming everything was in order, Pei Qian entered the building, pulled out his key, and unlocked the front door.
As soon as he stepped inside, the smell of food hit him.
"Son, you're back?"
His mom called out from the kitchen, still stir-frying.
"You little brat, come here! Try this tea your uncle brought back especially for us."
Old Pei was fiddling with a tea set at the table.
Same old scene. Nothing had changed—only now, he'd traveled ten years back in time.
Pei Qian noticed that his parents didn't have nearly as many gray hairs back then.
"Let me drop off my bag. Where are my slippers?"
"I put them away. Old Pei! Go grab your son's slippers from the wardrobe—I've got my hands full!" his mom shouted from the kitchen.
Old Pei reluctantly got up from the sofa.
"Which wardrobe?"
"Bottom shelf in his bedroom closet!"
Pei Qian changed into his slippers, dropped off his bag, and flopped onto the sofa.
Ahhh~ comfortable!
That sofa at home might not have cost much, but it was way more comfortable than the tens-of-thousands-of-yuan one in the company meeting room.
The food at home?
Smelled way better than the 300-yuan all-you-can-eat buffet they had during the last company outing.
The tea at home...
Blegh—what is this garbage?
Pei Qian nearly spat it out after just one sip of the "special tea" Old Pei claimed his brother had brought.
It was awful.
At the company, he drank premium tea every day. His taste buds had become spoiled. Stuff like this? Totally undrinkable.
"So, what do you think? Not bad, right?"
Old Pei took a slow sip, smiling with pride.
"Yeah… not bad."
Pei Qian quietly pushed the cup to the side.
He'd definitely need to find a chance to get Old Pei some good tea.
He couldn't take any from the company stock—it was company property, strictly for hosting guests. Personal use was out of the question.
But it's not like he was broke anymore. With tens of thousands in personal savings, he could totally buy his old man a premium box of tea.
Pei Qian looked around his family's home, and the desire to convert personal assets into tangible comforts burned stronger than ever.
They lived in a modest two-bedroom apartment, just over 100 square meters. It was relatively new—bought in recent years—but it came with a mortgage.
Even though his mom kept everything spotless, the furniture, appliances, and decor were clearly dated.
His parents were ordinary working-class folks. They weren't struggling to survive, but they still lived frugally.
Pei Qian glanced at the television.
"Dad, don't you think it's time to replace the TV? That screen's way too small."
Old Pei glared.
"Replace it? What for? It still works fine! Besides, your mom and I don't really watch TV anyway."
"Then how about the washing machine? Let's swap it for a front-load one," Pei Qian suggested.
Old Pei shook his head again.
"Front-load? Those are expensive! This one's working just fine. You get a new one—what're you gonna do with the old one?"
"The bathroom floor's uneven. Every time this machine hits spin cycle, it sounds like it's falling apart and shakes the whole place. It's disturbing the neighbors," Pei Qian explained. "And don't worry about it—you don't need to pay a cent. I'll cover it. I'll even get a set of leveling feet so it won't rattle anymore."
"Leveling feet?"
"Yeah. They adjust the height of each leg so the washer sits flat. That way, when it spins, it won't shake and make noise," Pei Qian explained.
"Getting some leveling feet is fine, but there's no need to use your money."
Old Pei paused mid-thought.
"Wait a sec—how come you're buying a washing machine? Where'd you get the money?"
Pei Qian knew this question was coming.
"Ah, well, I landed a gig on campus. I acted in a short video project. The director paid me thirty thousand yuan."
"How much? Thirty thousand?!"
Old Pei nearly blew his mustache off.
"Don't try to fool me! You? Filming some short video? With a thirty-thousand fee? More like you paid them thirty grand to let you in!"
"Come on, Dad, what's that supposed to mean?" Pei Qian was annoyed.
"Your son's got good looks—thirty thousand sounds totally fair!"
"Yeah right. I don't buy it!"
Old Pei was clearly grinning now, but still stubbornly skeptical.
"Not unless you show me the video!"
"Video? It's not online yet."
Pei Qian kept his cool.
"I'm just telling you that I can earn money now. You don't need to send me a living allowance anymore."
Old Pei shook his head.
"We'll keep sending it as usual. If you can make money on your own, that's great. But don't put too much pressure on yourself. Focus on your studies, understand?"
As the two chatted, Pei Qian's mom called out from the kitchen,
"Dinner's ready!"
Pei Qian and Old Pei quickly went to wash their hands and set the table.
At the dinner table, Pei Qian—who normally avoided alcohol—made an exception and drank a couple cups of goji berry–infused grain alcohol with Old Pei. He ended up eating more than he had at any meal in recent memory.
Home really was the best.
Old Pei, clearly a bit tipsy, launched into a lengthy "life lecture," even bragging to Pei Qian's mom that their son had acted in a short film—proof that he'd inherited his excellent genes.
Pei Qian's mom rolled her eyes in response and dumped dishwashing duty on the two of them.
By the time dinner ended, it was almost 9 p.m. Pei Qian originally planned to help with the dishes, but Old Pei practically kicked him back to his room, saying he'd been traveling all day and needed to rest.
"You can start doing chores tomorrow."
Pei Qian didn't argue and retreated to his room, browsing the web on his laptop.
He knew it was impossible to hide the fact that he'd started a company from his parents forever. Sooner or later, he'd have to come clean.
But before that, he needed to prepare.
Right now, he has over fifty thousand yuan in personal savings. Replacing some home appliances was well within his means. But if he didn't offer a convincing explanation for the source of that money, it would raise suspicion.
If he told them it came from making games? Old Pei might blow his top.
So after thinking it over, Pei Qian decided it was best to lay some groundwork by telling them about the short video gig.
Let Old Pei get used to the idea that his son could earn money. That way, when he started buying things for the house, it wouldn't seem suspicious.
Then he could slowly begin changing Old Pei's view on video games—chip away at the bias little by little.
Only then could he tell them the truth: he'd started a video game company.
After browsing the web for a bit, Pei Qian felt the drowsiness kicking in. He got up, brushed his teeth, and went to bed early.
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