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Van Loon was busy alone in the living room, tidying up the messy table and floor, sighing in his heart at how his life had become so unusual. Suddenly, he was drawn to the sound of his father coughing in the old blanket. Turning to look at his father, he seemed uncomfortable, perhaps from drinking too much strange whiskey last night. His father's face was a bit pale, but his eyes held a warm smile.
"Thank you, my child," his father weakly said, looking at Van Loon who was tidying up, filled with gratitude. Van Loon felt a bit complicated upon hearing his father's words. He rolled his eyes, but involuntarily smiled. He knew that despite feeling confused and helpless by his parents' behavior, they were still his closest and most familiar support.
Thinking of this, he decided to temporarily set aside his work and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Carefully, he walked back to the living room, crouched down, and held the glass of water to his father's mouth. However, his father seemed unwilling to move, like a spoiled child nestled in the blanket, refusing to reach out his hand, just opening his mouth, demanding that Van Loon pour the water into his mouth.
Van Loon shook his head helplessly, but still followed his father's wishes, slowly pouring the water into his mouth. He tried to control the flow of water, making sure not to pour too quickly. However, perhaps because his father's throat was too dry, or because of his own mishandling, not long after, his father choked. He suddenly started coughing, his face becoming even paler. Van Loon panicked and patted his father's back, trying to make him feel better.
The splashing water wet Dad's face, and Van Loon said somewhat angrily, "See, you didn't drink it yourself, and now it's like this, right?" Dad, however, continued to laugh heartily, dismissing it by saying, "It's not time for the patricide ritual yet!" His words left Van Loon both crying and laughing, but also helplessly shaking his head, turning to continue cleaning up the mess in the living room.
Although Van Loon felt helpless, there was still a warmth in his heart. He knew that Dad's strange words and behavior were his unique way of humor, and also a little warmth he found in this strange family. He bent down again, continuing to clean up the remnants on the table and the fragments on the floor.
At this moment, Dad suddenly cleared his throat on purpose, his voice particularly loud, as if he had something to say to Van Loon. Van Loon understood that Dad was trying to get his attention, but he deliberately didn't turn around, continuing to focus on his work, to see how long Dad could hold out.
Dad, however, was not willing to give up, continuing to clear his throat, his voice getting louder and louder, as if playing an endless game with Van Loon. Van Loon couldn't help feeling both annoyed and amused, but still deliberately ignored Dad, continuing to focus on cleaning the living room.
Van Loon felt the constant sound of his father clearing his throat, like a little hammer tapping at his ear, making it hard for him to concentrate. Unable to bear it any longer, he turned and asked in an irritated tone, "What do you want?" His voice revealed a hint of impatience, but more so, concern. He knew that his father's behavior always concealed some meaning.
His father immediately put on a pitiful look and said, "Oh, I drank too much last night, and now I feel like having a bowl of hot chicken soup." As he spoke, he deliberately rubbed his head against Van Loon's leg, as if being coquettish. His hair was a bit messy, but his eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, as if he was enjoying this little "playful" moment.
Van Loon looked at the pitiful look deliberately put on by his father, feeling a surge of unnamed anger rising in his heart. But when he saw his father's innocent expression, he felt it was somewhat funny. At this moment, his father kept rubbing his leg with his head, like a child asking for candy. Van Loon knew that this was his father's unique way of acting cute, and every time he did this, it always left Van Loon at a loss whether to laugh or cry.
Van Loon was both angry and amused, but finally, he was defeated by his father's "cuteness" attack. He shook his head helplessly, sighed, and said, "Okay, I'll go out and buy it for you later." His tone carried a hint of affection and helplessness, but more so understanding and tolerance. He knew that his father did this just to get a little care and attention from him.
Dad doesn't seem to have any intention of leaving the warmth of the old blanket. He continues to nestle inside, but his voice gets louder as he tells Van Loon, "Go to the entrance and get my wallet, then go buy some chicken soup. Remember to get it hot, with a little spice, it's better for curing a hangover."
Van Loon nods, indicating that he understands Dad's request. He then takes the recently cleaned trash and puts it in a bag, casually putting on a coat. He walks to the entrance, picks up the wallet hanging on the hook, confirms there is enough money inside, and then walks out the door. The weather outside is a bit chilly, but Van Loon doesn't mind; he's already used to this kind of slight chill.
Van Loon's first stop was the garbage disposal area of the neighborhood. He carefully placed the garbage bags into the designated bins, making sure not to dirty the ground. After completing this task, he looked up at the sky. The sun had completely risen, piercing through the clouds and casting light on every corner of the city. He took a deep breath of the fresh morning air, feeling refreshed. Then, he set out with determined steps towards the market.
The market was not far, but Van Loon enjoyed this brief walk. The number of pedestrians on the road gradually increased, each person having their own destination, busyness, and worries. Van Loon tried to keep his heart calm and enjoy the feeling of walking alone in the morning light.
Before long, he arrived at the market. The market was already bustling, with various stalls displaying all kinds of goods, among which the food stalls were the liveliest. Van Loon walked up to a stall specializing in chicken soup, where the owner warmly greeted him. He looked at the steaming pot of chicken soup on the stall and couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart.
He ordered four bowls of chicken soup from the owner, who skillfully ladled the soup into a thermal container and gave him a large plastic bag. Van Loon paid and picked up the chicken soup, thanking the owner. Then, he carefully placed the chicken soup in the plastic bag, making sure it wouldn't spill.
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