Chapter Five: The Everyday

The valiant warriors, under the silent call of the horn, shed their blood and gave their lives. They feared neither death nor self-sacrifice, ultimately bringing vitality to the ancient primordial clan.

This battle was destined to be etched in the annals of the ancient primordial tribe.

"Spore creatures truly possess limitless potential. If they evolve sufficiently, I imagine they would surpass sharks, whales, and even those prehistoric beasts by far!"

Fang Zhuowei took out his notebook, his face filled with excitement, and began to record with sweeping strokes.

If humanity were placed in a similar situation, proportionally, it would be impossible to achieve victory with the loss of only a few dozen individuals.

"In the twelve hundredth year of the Ancient Dark Era, the remnants of the primordial race, fleeing the pursuit of the ancient demons and refusing to turn against their own kind, chose to spend endless years, generation after generation, forging glory with their lives and piecing together the path ahead with their bones. They journeyed day and night, traversing mountains and seas, finally migrating to the other side of the boundless ocean. Relying on their formidable physical abilities and the handful of surviving plankton and algae, they tenaciously endured, maintaining their numbers at around three hundred."

"..."

"In the eighteen hundredth year of the Ancient Dark Era, the remaining primordial clan, exerting the strength of their entire tribe, used their lives as blades and stained their weapons with blood. Beneath the ancient forbidden territory of the goldenfish algae forest, they successfully hunted the prehistoric giant beast—the Fat Baby Fish—thus rekindling the flame of hope for their species' survival. As long as breath remains, hope will not be extinguished..."

He finished writing.

Fang Zhuowei pressed his lips together, a sudden grimace flickering across his face. He clutched his abdomen with both hands.

The complications of pancreatic cancer had struck again.

Cancer cells from the pancreas tend to spread throughout the body, and as the tumor grows, the relentless pain compresses the surrounding nerves and organs.

Fang Zhuowei endured this agony every few days, each episode lasting an unbearably long time, unrelieved even by painkillers.

After quite some time, the intense tearing pain in his abdomen finally subsided. He stood up, found a towel, and wiped the cold sweat from his face with hot water.

"Fangzi? Is that you back home?"

Just as he finished wiping his face, a loud, clear voice echoed from outside the door.

With the voice, a figure clad in a colorful, thick jacket, looking rather bulky, strode in boldly.

"Third Aunt?"

Fang Zhuowei walked out at the sound and was momentarily stunned upon seeing the visitor.

"So it really is you, Fangzi, back at last!" The woman in the colorful jacket first showed surprise, then her face was quickly overtaken by delight.

"You child, you really don’t understand. Coming home without letting your third aunt know so she could pick you up. What’s this? Have you been away so long you can’t recognize your third aunt? If I hadn't been visiting a neighbor and happened to pass by, would you have kept quiet about your return?"

She spoke loudly, her voice vibrant, striding quickly to Fang Zhuowei and scolding him with a mix of kindness and tolerance.

"How could I, Third Aunt? I just got back a few days ago, the house is still a mess. I was planning to tidy up before visiting you," Fang Zhuowei quickly shook his head, explaining, his face showing genuine respect and a hint of guilt.

Fang Zhuowei had few close relatives—barely one or two. The woman before him was one of them.

His parents had passed away early, leaving little behind. If not for the care of this woman, Fang Zhuowei would have starved long ago.

After graduating college, he was always busy with his career, working overtime constantly, exhausted to the bone. He longed for rest, so apart from a brief visit the year he graduated, he hadn’t returned home for years, his contact with Third Aunt limited to the occasional phone call.

"Next time you come home, you must let me know in advance," Tang Jinhua reminded, her words soon followed by a smile. "But you came back at just the right time. We just butchered a pig at our house. Come, come, let’s have pork—I'll make your favorite steamed pork. Stay with us for a few days; it’s been so long since I've seen you, we need a good catch-up. Your cousin Yaya is home, too. Tonight we can play mahjong together."

"Yaya’s home as well?"

Fang Zhuowei was surprised, a shy, timid girl’s image appearing in his mind.

Third Aunt had only one daughter, Zhang Yaya, about seven or eight years younger than Fang Zhuowei. He remembered her always wearing ill-fitting old clothes, runny-nosed, faithfully tagging along behind him.

But as they grew older, Fang Zhuowei went away for school and work, and gradually they grew distant. It had been three or four years since they last saw each other—she probably wouldn’t recognize him now.

"Hasn’t Yaya started school yet?"

Fang Zhuowei hesitated—if he remembered correctly, last year Yaya had scored over 650 on her college entrance exam and was admitted to a prestigious provincial university. By now, surely winter break was over and classes should have resumed.

"Not yet, for some reason. The winter holiday has lasted unusually long—not just Yaya, but even those who got into local schools in our city haven’t started classes. It’s strange," Tang Jinhua frowned, then quickly brightened. "But it’s good they haven’t started—otherwise we’d be short a player for mahjong! It’s cold outside; let’s talk more at home. Your uncle misses you terribly. It’s been years since you last saw him, right?"

Tang Jinhua’s tone brooked no refusal. Fang Zhuowei had no way to decline, so he agreed. Fortunately, the distance was not far—just a few miles.

After about half an hour, a slightly old, two-story house came into view. From a distance, one could see sparse, tall climbing vines on the walls—this was Tang Jinhua’s home.

"Father, look who’s here!"

As soon as she opened the door, Tang Jinhua eagerly called out toward the inside.

"Alright, I’m coming… What’s going on? Why so excited?" Soon after Tang Jinhua spoke, a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties came out, coughing lightly.

The man wore a crisp Zhongshan suit and black-rimmed glasses, impeccably dressed, with the air of a schoolteacher.

Much like Tang Jinhua, Zhang Baiqiu was first surprised to see Fang Zhuowei, then his face broke into joy. "I was wondering why your mother was so excited today—so it’s you, you rascal, back at last!"

Zhang Baiqiu recovered and laughed heartily.

"Uncle," Fang Zhuowei greeted, feeling a bit nervous. In his memory, this man had always been strict with him, personally reviewing all his homework. As a child, he didn’t understand, but looking back, he realized it was all for his own good—even if he never quite measured up.