The al wasn’t too long nor too short, but the atmosphere at the Tang family’s table was particularly warm and pleasant.
This was the unanimous feeling of all the viewers in the livestream.
Father Tang occasionally asked her a few questions about her life in the capital, but once he got her response, he habitually countered it, delivering a blow—whether about her daily life or her studies—that often left the little prodigy Tang Shu speechless.
Left without a proper rebuttal, she could only pick up a string of noodles with her chopsticks and stuff it into her mouth, wearing an expression of muted frustration that made her look like a pitiful kitten. This adorable reaction amused the old fans, especially the ones led by the moderator.
The on-site photographer also noticed the invisible thread of affection flowing between father and daughter. While they were talking, they would occasionally direct a comnt his way, casually inquiring about his daily life, treating him less like a transparent figure in the background and more like one of the family.
This calm and natural scene made the viewers in the livestream completely engrossed.
"Weird, just watching them eat and chat is making feel hosick now? My mom always does this kind of thing too—why did I decide to stay for the triple pay over New Year’s?!"
"This is just how it is at our dinner table, no ’silence during als’ here. Random chit-chat—it’s so comforting."
"If Father Tang hadn’t constantly dismantled his daughter’s dignity while Mister couldn’t take the heat, I honestly wouldn’t laugh so hard—pfftt, so Mister doesn’t even know how to make noodles!"
"People say daughters are their father’s closest confidants, but why is there absolutely none of that here with Mister?! Why, oh, why?"
"Tang Father: This ’confidant’ leaks like a broken quilt. I even have to serve her when she’s eating!"
"Quietly imagined a scene of Mister working hard outside to earn money, while Father Tang takes charge of all the als every day... I can’t. Hhhhh~~"
"And our Father Tang just has to be built like a bear with tiger vibes. Take him out for a stroll and people might mistake him for the head of a mountain bandit gang—it’s like a mythical father-daughter combo!"
"You can tell, Mister only inherited the sharp facial features from Father Tang. Everything else ca from her mother’s genes..."
"What a perfect blend of both parents!"
The audience, especially Tang Shu’s long-ti fans, imdiately recalled the family photo of Tang Shu, her mother, and brother. Now, with Father Tang’s appearance added to the mix, their minds assembled the facial features of the family trio and suddenly realized Tang Shu really did win the genetic jackpot.
So of them even provocatively deduced sothing groundbreaking about Mister.
"Case closed. Mister inherited her roasts and cobacks straight from Father Tang!"
"Her decisive, all-or-nothing personality clearly cos from him—no wonder Mister can act so tenacious!"
"It has to be. Tang Mother looks the definition of graceful and warm; no way she raised a daughter who’s always throwing verbal punches."
"It’s truly the rule of opposites—Mister’s actually caved in this ti. A once-in-a-lifeti sighting!"
The old fans transford into Sherlock Hols one by one, their eyes glued to Father Tang at the table. You could almost see the admiration pouring out of them, their respect and gratitude audible in the choruses calling him a hero for managing to get the better of their spirited idol.
Even after the al wound down and the cara stopped featuring him, the old fans were still reluctant to let go.
"Father Tang left. He’s gone!"
"Don’t go, father-in-law! Say a few more words—I really wanted a proper chat with you!"
"Hero, don’t leave! You’re the only one capable of keeping her in check. We need you—please, co back, Hero!"
However, neither father-in-law nor Tang Shu had any interest in entertaining this chaotic bunch of old fans constantly on the brink of madness. After the al, Tang Shu, slightly awkward under the photographer’s apologetic expression, gathered and washed up two empty bowls with impressive skill.
Her movents were so smooth, flipping bowls in her fingers like performing tricks. Clearly, this wasn’t the first ti she’d done it, or so the viewers thought.
***
Out in the courtyard, Tang Shu grabbed a towel off an iron clothesline to wipe her hands, then turned and headed towards the topmost tier of the hillside.
The photographer, stuffed and rested, now bristled with energy and followed her close behind, lugging his cara.
The path ahead soon revealed the sprawling majesty of Tang Village to the viewers.
"Holy moly~~ This place is huge?!"
"There’ve gotta be twenty or thirty buildings here—this isn’t so ordinary household. It’s like a freaking estate!"
"Wow, bigwigs live here! Can rural areas even have this much land? Aren’t there strict rules for residential plots?"
"But there are poultry, greenhouses, and even the ruggedly handso Father Tang—it clearly looks like a regular living space for normal people—"
"So fascinating. Tang Village is growing more mysterious by the minute."
The further the two walked, the more questions flooded the viewers’ minds and the deeper the photographer’s confusion grew, being the one seeing everything through the first-person perspective.
From the panoramic views of the hillside to the unspoken pressure emanating from this village, it all left him jittery—both internally and externally shaken.
The feeling was so intense he could barely stand it; even when he’d faced crowds of extras in a film production crew, he’d never been this afraid!
The poor photographer wanted to say sothing to ease the tension, but Tang Shu’s calm deanor betrayed no intention of chatting. At this mont, he envied the lively discussions happening among the livestream viewers more than ever.
Whimpering silently inside... You guys have no idea of my suffering...
Five minutes later, the two arrived at the most imposing building along the axial line of Tang Village. Beneath its gray eaves was a row of murals painted in cinnabar, radiating an antique charm. The artwork intertwined with its climbing vines, creating a whimsical scene that felt out of place in this contemporary era.
In contrast, Tang Shu’s lightly made-up, poised features paired with her white down jacket exuded youthful vitality, while the photographer’s hefty equipnt stacked layers of visual incongruity.
The poor guy couldn’t help but feel he shouldn’t be standing here at all.
"This is the Tang Family Ancestral Hall. It’s full of Tang family mbers inside."
Once Tang Shu finished speaking, everyone imdiately recalled Father Tang’s words from earlier at the table.
[Go light so incense for your grandma.]
Wait... So, inside lay Grandmother Tang’s morial tablet?
"Uh... Should I not go in? Should I wait here for you, Miss Tang?"
"No need. My grandma loved the hustle and bustle—she might actually welco you."
Tang Shu chuckled lightly, showing no sorrow, only serenity and acceptance about visiting soone who had passed on.
"..."
The photographer instantly decided to shut up.
Tang Shu stepped inside the Tang Family Ancestral Hall. Despite it housing ancestral tablets, the hall wasn’t gloomy at all—in fact, it was remarkably bright. Positioned along the axial centerline of Tang Village, sunlight seeped through cracks, filling the space and amplifying its openness.
However, the viewers weren’t drawn to the hall’s unexpectedly sunny design. What caught their attention was... the seemingly endless rows of morial tablets in its center.
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