79: The haircut was done with respect.

His mother closed the study door, pointed towards the kitchen, and poked Chen Heng's arm, "That pot, don't let it overflow. Go check on it again."

His father narrowed his eyes, "Let's switch in a bit, I want to chat with Chen Fang too."

"Alright, alright, you watch for a bit, then we'll switch."

Chen Fang pushed open the walk-in closet door, pulled his suitcase inside, and squatted down to open it.

As he took out each piece of clothing, his mother helped him, sorting them into piles for washing, ironing, or direct hanging.

After pulling a few clothes out of his backpack, Chen Fang took out a black box with gold patterns.

"Oh, you have this pen too?" His mother squatted down, examining the box in his hand.

Chen Fang nodded, handing it to his mother, "Do you want it? It's for you."

His mother took it, opened the box, "It's so beautiful."

Old Hu also had such a pen, often showing it off during meetings, saying his daughter gave it to him. When posting photos of poems on his Moments, he'd include the pen in the shot. It was clear he really liked this pen.

It was fine for Old Hu to use it, but they should be low-key at school and not use such luxury items, so as not to cause Chen Fang any controversy.

Qi Shuya put the fountain pen back in the box and handed it to him, "Chen Fang, aren't young people writing less these days? You still use a fountain pen?"

Chen Fang took the box back, "I don't use it either. They said they wanted me to be their spokesperson. They just handed it to me when they met me at the airport."

"Ah?" His mother burst out laughing, "So, do you want to take on this endorsement?"

"I'll use it for a bit; if it's good, I'll take it."

"It should be quite good. Professor Hu really likes this brand of fountain pens. You can try it out."

Qi Shuya chuckled softly.

What a coincidence. She was a bit looking forward to Old Hu's expression when he found out Chen Fang was the spokesperson.

Although Old Hu didn't have much animosity towards her, how could a mother not mind others criticizing her son?

Thinking that the pen he proudly used was actually endorsed by a popular celebrity he disdained and criticized in front of students—her son—she felt a surge of delight.

"Mom, your expression..." Chen Fang asked, puzzled, "Did you and Uncle Hu have a conflict? He studies contemporary literature, and you study modern literature; the field conflict isn't serious. Is it about research funding?"

"Don't overthink it, it's nothing." His mother had just finished speaking whennoob, on Chen Fang's shoulder, flapped down and burrowed into an empty space in the suitcase.

Chen Fang was about to pull him out when he heard footsteps approaching the door, "Shuya, it's your turn to watch the pot, let me chat with our son for a bit."

Chen Fang turned his head and saw his mother glance at his father, pursing her lips in disdain, and quickly leaving.

Chen Fang was a little puzzled.

They usually did housework together. Taking turns watching the pot was normal for them. What was going on?

Chen Fang leaned out, saw his mother go downstairs, and quietly asked, "Did you two have a fight?"

His father shrugged, pointed to his hair, "We got our hair cut, and now we're treating each other with 'respect'."

Chen Fang suddenly understood.

A man's hair is joint property of a couple; do not deal with it privately without the other half's consent, or you will be responsible for the consequences.

His father leaned against the door, "Don't mention my hair. Do you want to tell Dad what you plan to do next?"

Chen Fang pushed the suitcase to the wall, picked up the clothes that needed washing, and walked towards the bathroom, "Find a new company. Then create representative works, win some significant awards, and once I have a certain status, invest in films, accumulate capital, and strive to become capital myself."

After speaking, Chen Fang threw the clothes into the washing machine. And asnoobraised his hind paws, trying to get into the washing machine, he pulled him out.

His father patted his shoulder, "Ambitious! When I was young, your dad also wanted to make a name for himself and become a leading figure in academia. Unfortunately, now I find myself to be ordinary, just an NPC. But you're different, Dad believes you can do it!"

Chen Fang pressed the start button on the washing machine, and as he walked out, he said, "No, how could you be an NPC? An NPC needs to meet several conditions."

"Hmm? Tell me."

Chen Fang stopped, leaned against the second-floor railing, supporting himself with both hands, "First, an NPC should often feel bored, with no main quest in life."

His father narrowed his eyes, "Fits."

"Second, they don't consume many resources, they're broke."

"Your mom manages the money, and I really don't have much usually, so that fits."

"Uh, third, simple modeling."

Chen Heng stroked his chin, "That doesn't fit. I'm at least the middle-aged heartthrob of the School of Literature."

"Right? And, fourth, new skins only on holidays."

"Fits. I generally don't buy clothes."

"Fifth, low health, easily injured."

"That also fits," Chen Heng pulled up his pant leg, revealing a band-aid on his ankle.

Chen Fang's mouth twitched.

That fits too?

"Uh, never mind, there's one more: limited activity, often locked in a certain area, with restrictions wherever they go."

Chen Heng stroked his chin, "That's not it. As a fishing enthusiast, I often go to deserted places."

Chen Fang raised an eyebrow, "Then you're definitely not an NPC."

"But I don't have a main quest." Chen Heng stroked his chin, pondering whether he should find a new life goal, when he saw Chen Fang raise an eyebrow, a provocative expression on his face, and say, "Then you're a wild monster."

Chen Heng was slightly stunned. A wild monster?

After realizing, he lifted his foot, wanting to kick him, while a heavy stone seemed to lift from his chest, making him feel lighter.

They hadn't had an easy time for over a month either, and now seeing him still able to joke, they finally felt a bit relieved.

Chen Heng laughed and hooked his arm around Chen Fang's neck, "Same to you!"

Seeing that relaxed smile, Chen Fang felt warmth in his heart and also subtly curved his lips.

"Hey," his father rested his elbow on Chen Fang's shoulder and gestured towards the kitchen, "Your mom is the real NPC; you get a quest as soon as you get close to her."

His mother walked out of the kitchen and scoffed, "Chen Heng, I heard that! You're the NPC, even your name sounds very NPC-like! And that haircut of yours, it looks exactly like an NPC's!"

Chen Fang glanced at his father's haircut and nodded affirmatively.