The taste of home

Gao Xueqiang called a friend to come and drive away the Changan, while he himself got into the Grand Cherokee.

"I wonder if this counts as bribery," Eddie joked.

Gao Xueqiang snorted. "Bribery my ass. This is a gift from an international friend! It represents the great friendship between China and Canada! Anyone who says this car is a bribe is sabotaging the friendship between our two great nations!"

Eddie and Creeper checked into a four-star hotel for just one night. They were going home the next day.

Gao Xueqiang started nagging again: "Why didn't you call me in advance? We've got a bunch of old classmates around here—Chen Lei and Dajun are both here. If I had known you were coming back today, I'd have arranged a gathering. We could've had a class reunion."

"Next time," Eddie promised. "I'm rushing home this time to see my parents. I'll be flying back to Canada from Beijing later anyway, so we can get together then."

Now that he was back in China, Eddie especially missed his aging parents. He couldn't wait to get home and eat his mom's homemade meat pies and his dad's scallion stir-fried pork.

Early the next morning, Eddie went to the airport again, caught a connecting flight to Shanze City in Dongshan Province, then rented a car from the airport and headed into the city for a big shopping spree before finally turning toward home.

The driver, seeing how generously Eddie was spending and noticing the white man by his side, said enviously, "You must be doing well, little brother. You're living abroad, right? In the U.S.? That white guy looks American."

Eddie smiled. "Not the U.S.—Canada."

"Same thing," the driver replied. "Anyone who makes it abroad is impressive. That white guy—what is he to you? First time I've had a white passenger in my cab."

The driver's repeated use of the term "white guy" came across as rude. Creeper, being older, didn't mind, but Eddie did. He reminded the driver, "Sir, don't let appearances fool you. This foreign friend of mine speaks Mandarin better than you do."

"Eddie, it's fine. I'm used to it," Creeper replied in fluent Chinese.

The driver turned bright red and didn't speak again for the rest of the ride.

Eddie's home was in a rural area near Shanze City, about a hundred kilometers from downtown, with lots of winding mountain roads. So the driver didn't dare go too fast, and it took more than two hours to get to the small town.

The BYD car rolled along the asphalt road of the town. May was noticeably warmer here than in Gaobie Town. The local girls were already wearing sheer stockings and strutting down the street in high heels.

The trees along the road were lush and green, and tender grasses poked through the soil, decorating the countryside with vibrant color. It was a charming scene.

As the car passed the town station, Eddie suddenly spotted his father, who was bent over tending to a bundle of green leeks at a roadside stall.

Seeing his father hunched over like that made Eddie feel a pang of guilt. He felt like he hadn't been a good son.

When he left for Canada, Eddie hadn't told his parents he was going to claim an inheritance. His parents had been farmers their whole lives, humble and cautious, with no concept of sudden wealth.

Eddie's great-grandfather was a mythical figure to them—he had left the country before the Japanese invasion and was never heard from again. If Eddie had told them a man they'd never met had left him billions, they never would have believed it. They'd have thought he was being scammed and would never have let him go.

Even if they had, they would have worried themselves sick. So Eddie told them he was going abroad for further studies.

That's also why, even after receiving ten million Canadian dollars from Lishi Auction House, he only dared to send home a mere 100,000 yuan. Anything more, and his parents might have gotten suspicious or even scared.

He asked the driver to stop, got out of the car, and walked up to his father with a smile.

"Want some leeks? Fresh-cut snow leeks—great for stir-fry or dumplings…" Eddie's father said instinctively, before looking up and realizing it was his son.

"When did you get here? I didn't see any cars from the city come by," he said joyfully. "Come on, I've got a stool. You must be tired from the trip."

The other stall owners nearby chimed in with jokes:

"Hey, Old Eddie's boy is back! What a handsome young man."

"Old Eddie, pack up and go home—your son's back. What are you still selling leeks for?"

"Little Eddie, your dad sure is hardworking. Came to pick you up and still brought his leeks. You better be good to him."

Eddie greeted them all with a smile. His father, a little embarrassed, rubbed his hands together and explained, "Your mom told me to come pick you up. I thought, since I'm coming anyway, might as well bring some leeks to sell."

Eddie nodded. "I understand, Dad. Let's go home. Things will get better from now on."

His father grinned and gave the remaining leeks to the other vendors. Eddie opened the car's trunk and took out a large, beautifully packaged box of maple syrup and a carton of cod-brand cigarettes, which he and his father handed out to the other vendors—most of whom were old acquaintances of his father.

"Little Eddie's doing well. That syrup and those smokes aren't cheap," one of the old men said with a chuckle.

Old Eddie beamed proudly. "That's right, my son's doing great."

But moments later, he looked concerned and muttered, "Those cigarettes must've cost quite a bit…"

Eddie put his arm around his father's shoulder. "It's nothing."

He was just giving his father some face—he knew how much that meant to him.

His father had ridden an electric scooter to town. Eddie had him park it somewhere and ride back with him in the car.

The last time Eddie was here on a temporary visa, Creeper hadn't come with him, so this was the first time his father saw the elderly foreigner. The moment he spotted the white-haired old man in the car, he was startled.

Eddie introduced the two of them. Upon learning that Creeper was a famous lawyer and had even served as an ambassador to China, Eddie's father immediately became respectful.

On the way home, Eddie gently told his father the truth: the fish farm was worth about ten million, and he had around four or five million in savings.

Even with such a "downplayed" version, his father was still stunned, blinking in disbelief and left speechless.

The car pulled up to their house. Eddie pushed open the rusted iron gate, and his mother, hearing the noise, came out.

Seeing her son, she smiled warmly. "Well, look who's back—Comrade Eddie."

Eddie hugged her, and she chuckled. "Look at you, going abroad made you all fancy—hugging like some foreigner."

Eddie's father and Creeper unloaded the car. Eddie paid the driver and carried the rest inside.

He had brought plenty this time—specialties from Gaobie Town, like maple syrup, ice wine, and dried seafood. In Shanze City, he'd bought ginseng, donkey-hide gelatin, and other tonics, plus roast duck from Gao Xueqiang in Beijing.

Seeing so many gifts, most beautifully packaged, his frugal mother frowned. "You come back just once and spend all this money?"

Having digested the news from the road, Eddie's father smiled calmly. "Your son is a millionaire now."

Eddie gave a wry smile—he wasn't just a millionaire, but a bona fide billionaire.

Creeper helped bring the items in. Eddie's father quickly invited him to sit, while his mother said, "I'll call our daughter to come over. We're all having lunch together anyway."

Eddie wasn't an only child—he had a sister who was married and lived in a nearby town. It wasn't far, so she could get home easily.

After putting things away, Eddie's mother rushed into the kitchen. Her meat pies were still on the stove—she'd left them too long and now they were burnt.

"Mom, let's go to a restaurant," Eddie said, not wanting his parents to tire themselves out.

His mother waved him off. "Don't waste money. What restaurant? We've got everything here. CK even dropped off two pounds of beef the other day. I'll make some beef soup."

Eddie's father took meat and vegetables out of the fridge, thawing the meat while saying, "Exactly—what's there to eat at restaurants? Too expensive and never enough food. We'll eat at home. I'll make you scallion stir-fried pork and fried tenderloin."

The gas was turned on, peanut oil poured into the wok. As the smoke rose and the rich aroma of frying meat filled the air, to Eddie, that familiar, slightly burnt smell of oil was the true scent of home.