Chapter 7: Little Common Man

“Mom, I’ll take Xin Yu back to Grandma’s so she doesn’t worry.”

“Okay, check if Grandma’s eaten.
If not, invite her over.
I’ll make a couple more dishes.”

Grandma’s house was close, a two- or three-minute walk across the road.

“Look both ways before crossing.”

Chen Qiao reminded Chen Xin Yu repeatedly, every time they crossed.

“I know, Uncle.
You’re so naggy.”

“It’s for your own good.”

Grandma was already calling Xin Yu’s name in the local dialect from the field’s edge.

Despite her heavy preference for boys, Grandma doted on Xin Yu, her only great-grandchild.
But if a great-grandson arrived, Xin Yu would quickly lose favor.
Chen Qiao knew his cousins’ first kids were all girls.

“Great-Grandma!” Chen Xin Yu broke free from Chen Qiao’s hand, running into Grandma’s arms.

“Hey…”

“Grandma.”

Chen Qiao invited Grandma to dinner at their house.
She politely declined.

“Uncle…” Chen Xin Yu turned, waving goodbye, then corrected herself.
“Brother, see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Though Chen Qiao’s family often told Xin Yu to come eat without hesitation, she worried about being a burden.
She never came on her own—Chen Qiao always brought her home after spotting her on the way back.

He’d have to bring her over more often.

Back home, his mom, cooking, asked, “What’d Grandma say?”

“She’s eaten.
Cooked already.”

“Knew it.”

His dad, the youngest, was Grandma’s least favorite.
So he worked hard young, bought land, and built their house.

Clanging metal and a roaring engine sounded.
Chen Qiao knew it was his dad.

He ran out to greet him.

A blue dump truck parked at the door.
His dad, Chen Feng, hopped out, still slim and strong, hair full, not yet gray.
He’d gained weight after prison.

His mom, Chen Li Li, shared the same surname.
They were from the same clan, long past close relation.
Chen was the village’s biggest surname, with two ancestral halls.
They were childhood sweethearts, sort of.
His dad was once a bit bourgeois—his family ran a rice noodle factory.
In elementary, he paid classmates to do his homework, owned a big-bar bike, and a Panda-brand black-and-white TV.

But after Grandpa died early, his dad dropped out in third grade, scavenging coal and chopping wood.
The factory closed.
Learning to drive a tractor sparked his comeback.

The truck was new, swapped out this year, its bed welded higher to haul more.
But it was sold cheap after the accident to raise money—a “cursed” vehicle.

Chen Feng filled the truck’s tank with the hose for tomorrow’s early job, water gurgling in.

“Eaten yet?” he asked, reeking of motor oil.

“With Sis and Xin Yu.
Go eat, Mom’s waiting.
I’ll grab the clothes upstairs and shower later.”

Clothes dried on the roof.
Chen Qiao was the errand boy—his parents and sister sent him up since he was always upstairs, closest to the roof.

A tarp-covered wooden shed up there held leftover beams from the house’s construction.
Chen Qiao had made a secret base with old rags, hiding there when upset until his sister came.

The roof had his sister’s succulents, cacti, and prickly pears.

He grabbed everyone’s laundry.
Holding his sister’s bra, he noted it was small—though it didn’t grow much later either.

He folded everyone’s clothes separately.
Downstairs, his dad was griping to his mom about unfair treatment at the site.
When it was his turn to haul dirt, the excavator overloaded his truck, while connected drivers got light loads.

Some jobs paid per trip, others by the day.
Hauling materials was usually per trip.

Many clients paid late, forcing drivers to front material costs.
His dad built ties with brick and cement factory bosses to get credit, earning more.
Year-end meant chasing debts.

Chen Qiao hesitated.
“Dad, I’ve got a favor to ask.”

He rarely asked his dad for money—his dad gave it freely.
If short, he’d borrow from his sister.

For school fees, he’d tell his sister first, letting her tell their parents.
Asking for something himself was rare.
With an adult soul, acting cute with his parents felt awkward.

“What?
Out of pocket money?” Chen Feng asked, surprised.

“No, can you and Mom give me a little sister?”

“Why bring that up again?” Chen Li Li frowned.

“Lots of my classmates’ families are planning for one.”

It was true, not made up.

“You’re comparing even this?”

“You compare me and Sis to other kids.
Why can’t I compare you to other parents?” Chen Qiao shot back.

“Those families have one son or daughter.
Now that kids are grown and policies are looser, they can afford fines,” Chen Li Li explained.

“I just want the house livelier.
When Sis goes to city high school, Mom’s at work, Dad’s driving, I’m alone—boring.
While I’m here, I can help with a sister.
When I’m in high school, it’ll just be you two—lonely.
A sister would keep you company.”

“There’s Xin Yu.
If you get a sister, you’ll find her annoying, always out, and talk about helping,” Chen Li Li said, rolling her eyes.

“Xin Yu’s different.
She can’t stay like a daughter.
Second Uncle and Aunt would object.”

Chen Feng grunted, annoyed.
He disliked their behavior but couldn’t criticize as the younger brother.
Meddling only caused trouble.
Living separately, they pitied Xin Yu’s situation.

“A kid you two have is different.
If you promise me a sister, I’ll get first in class next exam.”

Chen Qiao made a bold pledge.

“Talk when you actually get first.
Might not even be a girl,” Chen Feng said.

“It’s a deal—no backing out.
I’m off to study.”

He didn’t expect to convince them easily, just plant the idea.
They were still young—accidents happen.

He’d rope in his sister later.
Her words carried more weight.

Beyond wanting a sister, Chen Qiao couldn’t think of another way to make his mom rest.
Changing jobs was unlikely—she’d chase busier, better-paying ones.
Even if he made money with his rebirth knowledge, she’d work until retirement, saving for her and his dad, not burdening her kids.

And who said just one sister?
Two wouldn’t hurt.
That’d keep his mom tied down.

He didn’t go study but headed to the illegal internet cafe.
Time to plan making money.
Most problems boiled down to cash—poverty’s curse.

Even if his dad couldn’t avoid the accident, enough money would keep his mom from overworking and his dad from breaking.

Still, he’d do everything to stop that tragedy.
Not out of some savior complex—he wasn’t that noble.
He couldn’t save everyone and wasn’t a superhero, just a guy aiming high.
The accident felt cursed, bringing endless bad luck to their family.