"Son, have you eaten?" Zhao Lanzhi dropped the pleasantries with Xu Xianxiong, "I told your dad to make you some food."
"No need, I ate on the train."
The old couple settled into chairs in the main room, eyes fixed attentively on Xu Qigang.
"Son, you've lost weight!"
"Son, how have you gotten so tan?"
"The rescue work must have been tough, right?"
Xu Qigang silently pressed his lips together; he was never one for many words. And the rescue grounds weren't just tough—they demanded life, they spilled blood.
Moreover, it was all over for now, and he didn't want to bring it up too much.
"Dad, Mom, you all should go to sleep now! We can talk about things tomorrow morning."
"Okay!" Zhao Lanzhi, stifling a yawn, stood up and urged Xu Xianxiong to boil water, but Xu Qigang refused.
"Dad, you go to sleep too! I can do it myself."
"That won't do," Xu Xianxiong insisted, "Your mother hasn't been feeling well lately, she's the one who should boil it."
"When has mom ever boiled it?"