THE REAL PROTEGE

Four Eyes moved to the next gift — a cedar box with burnished brass corners, inside of which sat a collection of cigars, dark as mahogany and wrapped in embossed paper.

"These were once offered to the Premier of Romania. They were refused — not for lack of quality, but because they were considered too tempting."

Old Master Li raised a brow so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Even temptation can be tasteful," he said dryly, inspecting a cigar with near forensic precision.

"And this," Four Eyes said, unwrapping the final package, "is a scroll from the Tang Dynasty. An original."

Madam Li reached out with reverent fingers, unrolling the edge slightly.

The ink was still bold. The brushstrokes are elegant, powerful, yet restrained.

"This… is a national treasure," she whispered, a gasp escaping her lips. "You acquired this… how?"

Four Eyes gave Ling Li a side glance, then bowed. "With desperation. And fear. And ceremony robes."

Old Master Li finally let out a deep laugh, the kind that echoed through the wooden beams like the wind. "You've earned more than our respect. You've earned storytelling rights."

Madam Li patted Four Eyes' hand gently. "Thank you," she said. "This… was a gift of heart."

Ling Li beamed, pride and relief mixing in her eyes.

And beneath the woven history, the brewing of tea, and priceless scrolls, a quiet truth settled: this family was now one — bound by ceremony, laughter, and the rhythm of a legacy passed from hand to hand.

The tea cups had barely settled into their saucers when Madam Li rose with practiced grace. Her voice floated gently across the room, like the first note of an old melody.

"Let us have breakfast," she said, turning to the assembled guests with a warm yet commanding smile. "I asked the kitchen to prepare all of Ling's favorite dishes. She hasn't been home for a long time. I hope everyone won't mind."

Ling Li blinked, taken slightly off guard. She straightened her spine instinctively, the phoenix embroidery on her robe catching the amber light as she turned toward her mother.

"That's good," Mrs. Xu replied, her voice tinged with gentle curiosity. She looked between Ling Li and Madam Li, eyes sparkling. "We'll be able to learn what she truly likes."

Just then, Old Master Li clapped a hand onto Mr. Xu's shoulder — the touch made the man jolt, startled but honored. With a wide grin and an unexpected burst of casual camaraderie, Old Master Li declared:

"Come on, let's not be too formal!"

Without further ado, he took the lead, his robe sweeping through the corridor like an ancestral banner. Mr. Xu scrambled slightly to keep pace, still adjusting to the weight of ceremonial etiquette layered on top of generations of tradition.

From behind, Kim Kim and Chin Chin unleashed a twin burst of energy.

"FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!" they shrieked, bolting ahead with the force of two tiny tornadoes dressed in ancient silk.

Pharsa tried to grab the back of Chin Chin's robe mid-run and missed. She shouted from the rear, "Watch the koi pond!" but it was too late — the twins had already skidded past it, laughing like mischievous spirits.

As the family entered the dining hall, collective gasps rose like birds startled from a tree.

The table stretched the full length of the room, overflowing with at least twenty dazzling dishes. Braised abalone nestled beside lotus root fritters, crispy duck shimmered under a glaze of plum sauce, and a pyramid of steamed buns steamed like miniature mountain peaks. A centerpiece of bamboo-leaf-wrapped sticky rice smoldered gently. Bowls of soup, tender pork belly in caramelized soy, and delicate jellied tofu creations twinkled in porcelain as if laid out for a monarch's coronation.

Even Ling Li — the poised strategist, the empress of command — faltered.

"I—" she began, lips parting. But no words came. Her eyes were wide, scanning the feast. "Mother… you remembered everything."

Madam Li gave a delicate nod, her eyes brimming with pride. "I always do."

Four Eyes looked ready to weep beside her. "Even the stuffed eel rolls," he whispered, peering at a platter as though it contained treasure rather than food.

The twins were halfway onto their seats when Mrs. Xu, composed as ever, stepped forward.

"Everyone, sit. We are family. Don't be so polite."

Something in her voice — gentle, firm, maternal — washed over the room like a gentle tide. Shoulders relaxed. The tension, wound tight from ceremonial formality, eased. Chopsticks clinked softly against ceramic as everyone found their places.

Ling Li took her seat in silence. Her heart was thick with emotion, filled with memories of late-night suppers with her father, kitchen laughter with her mother, and quiet chats under the peach trees. And now, this table — filled not just with delicacies, but with lineage and love, all laid bare.

Chatty nudged his plate nervously. "This rice cake has gold flakes," he muttered.

Pharsa grinned. "Eat it and maybe you'll start making billion-dollar decisions."

Pharsa poked her chopsticks toward a rare fish dish. "Madam, this is the dish you used to make during the Ghost Festival!"

Madam Li chuckled. "It's been ages since I've made that one. But for today, I made everything myself. No servants. And why are you sudden;y calling me Madam? It's Mother for you!"

"Eh, sorry Mother," Pharsa timidly said.

"That's more like it," Mrs. Xu lovingly said.

Four Eyes went still. His gaze flicked to Ling Li.

She caught it. She smiled.

Madam Li turned to Ling Li again, her hand lightly brushing her daughter's robe. "You are happy?" she whispered.

Ling Li nodded. "I am."

Ling Li dabbed her lips with a silk napkin, then looked up with deliberate calm, her voice carrying a glint of anticipation as she addressed the room:

"Mom, we have some good news to share with everyone."

Madam Li froze mid-sip, lowering her teacup with theatrical precision. She leaned forward, eyes wide and playful dread dancing across her features.

"Oh, tell us already and don't keep me in suspense," she cried. "My heart can't take it!"

Her hand clutched her chest like a soap opera matriarch awaiting a twist.