"That's good," Mom followed after, "But you don't need to come home this early just to eat noodles with toppings, and you didn't bring any study materials. Are you planning not to study at all tonight?"

"Yeah." Edward Clark replied.

"So confident with your 'yeah'?" Mom frowned. "Do you think just because someone calls you a study god, you really are one? You need to face reality, and face your true self. If you really were a study god, why have you never dared to skip a grade since you were little? Why don't you dare guarantee you'll get full marks? Why don't you dare..."

"Mom," Edward Clark turned his head, raised his index finger to his lips, and lowered his voice, "Shh... listen."

"Listen to what?" Mom asked.

"Listen to me." Edward Clark said.

Mom didn't react right away and just looked at him.

"I won't think I'm a genius just because someone says I'm smart, and I won't think I'm no good just because someone says I'm not. I have my own judgment," Edward Clark spoke calmly, and compared to Mom's machine-gun pace, his was like a stroll, "And let me reiterate one more thing: in life, it's not just about what I don't dare to do, there are also many things I simply don't want to do."

"You..." Mom snapped out of it, frowning.

"Shh," Edward Clark raised his index finger again, "Listen."

"Listen to what now!" Mom raised her voice angrily.

"If neither of us talks," Edward Clark said, "we'll both feel a lot better."

When they entered, Dad was already in the kitchen making noodles with toppings. Mom, who had gotten home before him, was sitting on the sofa with a frown. Edward Clark walked to the kitchen and greeted Dad: "Dad."

"Don't always talk back to your mom," Dad said.

"Okay." Edward Clark replied.

"You're not a kid anymore, about to go to college," Dad said, "You need to learn to empathize with your parents, to understand them..."

"Okay." Edward Clark replied again.

At least Dad and Mom managed to do that—they could both empathize and understand each other.

Because they were a pair of equally conflicted and tangled parents.

Edward Clark turned and walked toward his own room.

"Open your brother's window and let some air in," Mom said.

"Okay." Edward Clark paused for a moment, then went into the room next to his own.

He opened all the windows, then quickly left, went back to his own room, locked the door, and lay down on the bed.

Noodles with toppings are a trap.

Cravings are a trap.

If he didn't eat noodles with toppings... what would he be eating right now?

"How about zhajiang noodles?" Grandma's face suddenly appeared in front of Eric Bennett.

"Jeez, Grandma!" Eric Bennett was so startled he kicked the edge of the table in front of him, knocking his phone off the table.

"What are you doing," he patted his chest, "if you scare your eldest grandson into something bad, would you be able to face the ancestors of the Ding family?"

"You think that's enough to scare you into something bad? Are you, the eldest grandson, worthy of the Ding family ancestors?" Grandma said. "What are you watching? A horror movie?"

"When have I ever watched those?" Eric Bennett sighed, bent down, and picked up his phone. He'd always been timid since he was little, and Grandma always believed in fighting poison with poison, scaring him whenever she could. He felt like in a few more years, his courage would be completely scared away.

He'd been watching this documentary for several days—various major cases, murder cases, old documentaries with uncensored crime scenes, and every now and then a jump scare. Not to mention watching at night, even watching at dusk made him feel like something brushed down his spine.

After Grandma startled him, he didn't feel like watching anymore. He tossed his phone aside, stood up, and stretched. "What were we just saying about eating? Zhajiang noodles?"

"If you want something else, Grandma will make it for you." Grandma walked to the window and looked outside.

"I want dumplings." Eric Bennett said.

"Alright, I'll make dumplings for you." Grandma nodded, but still stood by the window without moving.

"What are you looking at?" Eric Bennett walked over, stood next to Grandma, and looked outside with her.

"Someone died," Grandma said gravely, pinching her fingers and calculating, "Is it..."

Eric Bennett looked downstairs at the peaceful scene, didn't hear any commotion, and was about to ask how someone could have died, but before he could speak, a few pieces of yellow joss paper drifted over from the curb.

The wind spun them in little circles as they floated down the street.

"Damn," Eric Bennett felt a chill down his back. He immediately turned away from the window, scratching and rubbing his back, "Can you not do that!"

"Is your grandma magical?" Grandma turned to look at him, smiling.

"Magical my ass," Eric Bennett put on his jacket, "It's all about science these days, and you're still playing the fortune-teller."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Grandma smacked him on the back. "It's real!"

Eric Bennett turned his head, leaned in close to Grandma, lowered his voice, and asked mysteriously, "Grandma, be honest, did you just see joss paper floating by?"

Grandma looked at him just as mysteriously, and after a while said, "There were several pieces."

Eric Bennett couldn't help laughing, chuckling as he put on his shoes to go out: "I'm going out for a walk."

"You want dumplings but you're not kneading the dough? Not making the wrappers? Not rolling out the skins?" Grandma rattled off.