Chapter 6: Dad Is Really Clueless

Before possessing godlike hearing, Huang Guolun had already noticed that Huang Tao had a natural sense for music. Whenever he taught Huang Tao to sing, as long as the boy liked the song, he could master it perfectly after just two or three tries. Such musical aptitude was remarkable for a child of three or four. Now, with his extraordinary hearing, listening to Huang Tao sing again, Huang Guolun realized that the boy’s sense of rhythm and musical interpretation was outstanding; even when he sang haphazardly, he infused the music with his own style—undeniably a sign of true talent.

Given time, perhaps this child might one day become a superstar singer! Of course, it would all depend on his own interests. If, in the future, Huang Tao genuinely loved music, Huang Guolun was determined to be his staunchest supporter and the strongest force driving him forward.

Their family’s Old English Sheepdog, Dudu, would turn seven next month—about the equivalent of a person in their forties. Dudu was long past the age of bounding about like Huang Tao. When Huang Tao grabbed his chubby paws and made him do exercises, Dudu’s resignation was palpable. Catching sight of Huang Guolun returning home, Dudu looked as though he saw his savior; his soulful eyes, half-hidden beneath his shaggy bangs, seemed to shine with hope. Seizing a chance, Dudu broke free from Huang Tao’s grip and dashed toward Huang Guolun in excitement.

“Don’t run! Come back and keep doing your weight-loss exercises!”

The nimble little chubby boy, swift as lightning, caught Dudu by the tail and dragged him back for more roughhousing.

“One, two, three, four, woof woof woof woof.
Two, two, three, four, woof woof woof woof.
Three, two, three, four, woof woof woof woof.
Four, two, three, four, woof woof woof woof…”

Huang Tao continued singing the “Doggy Slim-Down Routine,” while Dudu looked pitifully at Huang Guolun, barking in desperate appeal for help.

“Dudu, don’t look at me. Just keep your brother company with those exercises—he needs to lose weight even more than you do.”

Setting down his briefcase, Huang Guolun teased Dudu, then went to wash his hands in the bathroom. After greeting his mother, who was busy in the kitchen, he returned to the living room to see Huang Tao flushed and sweating from all the commotion.

“Aren’t you tired yet? Take a break. How did you behave at kindergarten today? No mischief, I hope?”

“I was good! Because I was good, Teacher Li gave me another little red flower as a reward!”

Huang Tao, pleased with himself, finally left Dudu alone and bounded over to Huang Guolun, leaping onto the sofa. With a conspiratorial air, he asked, “Dad, do you know who in history loved snacks the most?”

As he spoke, he popped a strawberry-flavored milky melt into his mouth—one of his favorite treats.

“Trying to sneak more snacks from me with your little tricks, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m asking seriously. There’s a historical figure who loved snacks the most.”

Huang Guolun thought for a moment. “Who?”

“Yuan Shikai!”

“Yuan Shikai? Why?”

“Because he was the ‘President of Snacks’!” (“President of Snacks” is a pun on “Provisional President” in Chinese.)

Huang Guolun was exasperated. “He was the provisional president, not the president of snacks!”

“Well, he loved snacks the most, anyway. Heh.”

Popping a few more milky melts into his mouth, Huang Tao reached for a workbook on the coffee table and handed it to Huang Guolun, pointing to a question. “Dad, Teacher Li gave me a question today—see if you can solve it.”

Intrigued, Huang Guolun took the workbook and saw a fill-in-the-blank problem:

( ) ( ) ( ) 2 4 6 7 8

He picked up pen and paper and puzzled over it for quite a while, unable to think of the right numbers. Frustrated, he muttered, “Are you learning advanced math in kindergarten now? Why are they giving you such hard questions?”

“I think it’s easy! You’re just too slow, Dad.”

With a smug sense of intellectual superiority, Huang Tao flipped to the next page and showed him the answer:

(Under the bridge before the gate) (swam a group of ducks) (come, let’s count them) 2 4 6 7 8

(These are lyrics to a well-known children’s song in China.)

“I…!” Huang Guolun was speechless and didn’t want to talk to Huang Tao for the next ten minutes.

“Don’t just play with Little Peach—come help me in the kitchen. You need to eat early tonight; you have plans afterward.”

An uneasy feeling crept over Huang Guolun. He told Huang Tao to keep playing with Dudu and headed into the kitchen, asking his mother, “What have you arranged for me now? Don’t tell me I’m going on a blind date tonight?”

“You guessed right! There’s no time like the present. I’ve already spoken to Aunt Li; you’re meeting the girl tonight.”

For Madam Zhou, the most pressing issue was to solve Huang Guolun’s long-delayed remarriage. Huang Guolun was not opposed to blind dates. For someone of his background, family-arranged matchmaking was more reliable than finding someone on his own. His brother’s unhappy experience was a cautionary tale. Falling in love at first sight with someone whose background you don’t know has a certain fatal attraction, but when it comes to marriage, it often leads to many problems.

He was no longer alone—he had little Huang Tao to think of. Choosing a new partner required even greater care; he needed to know everything about the other person before considering marriage. At least, with family introductions, there was no faking the family background, which saved a lot of trouble.

However, his mother’s habit of setting up blind dates without consulting him always left Huang Guolun feeling helpless.

“Why didn’t you tell me in advance? It’s evening and you’re just letting me know I have a blind date—what if I had other plans?” Huang Guolun grumbled as he chopped vegetables, caught off guard by his mother’s arrangements.

“What plans could you possibly have? I’ll take care of Taozi tonight—you just go to your date and come back whenever you like. Let me tell you, this Miss Zhao that Aunt Li introduced is very reliable; she has excellent qualities. Didn’t I show you her photo before? You seemed satisfied. Stop dragging your feet—just meet her tonight, and if you get along, start seeing each other. Taozi is growing up fast—he really needs a new mother to fill that gap in his heart. Otherwise, the psychological harm of a single-parent family will last a lifetime, and you’ll regret it.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. No more lectures—I’ll go. What time and where?”

“She owns a little café in Houhai. Just meet her at her shop. Aunt Li set it up for eight o’clock tonight, and I’ve already sent you the address on WeChat. After dinner, clean yourself up—don’t go looking sloppy. Take these blind dates seriously and don’t just muddle through.”

“I’m not a kid. Why would I muddle through? Fine, I’ll go shower now, and after dinner I’ll get ready and head out.”

Knowing that staying in the kitchen would only get him nagged at, Huang Guolun slipped away. He took a quick shower, dried his hair, changed into casual clothes, and checked the address on his phone.

The café was not in the bustling bar district of Houhai, but in Xiao Xiangfeng Alley, a rather secluded spot. This location gave Huang Guolun a sense of kindred spirit. His own Xiaomeng had once opened a little tavern on a quiet street near Houhai—he hadn’t expected that this café owner, Miss Zhao Yan, might share similar ideals. They both seemed to be people who preferred tranquility amid the bustle.

He pulled up the photos of Zhao Yan his mother had sent. Aunt Li, ever the matchmaker, had introduced Zhao Yan to him last weekend. But at that time, Huang Guolun was going through his transformation and could barely carry on a normal conversation, especially with Aunt Li, who spoke like a machine gun. Her words were a barrage that his ears couldn’t process. He’d just muddled through the weekend, barely registering anything about Zhao Yan. Whatever his mother and Aunt Li told him about her, it went in one ear and out the other.

He only remembered that she was from Qingdao, twenty-seven, single, never married, and had a master’s degree. Her father was a small but influential official in their hometown, though Huang Guolun hadn’t paid attention to the details—he never did. As for her character, personality, and interests, Aunt Li had described them all, but he hadn’t listened. He hadn’t even looked carefully at her photo.

Now, studying the picture, he saw that she was quite pleasant to look at. In the photo, Zhao Yan wore a white straw hat and an orange dress, posing among flowers—a travel snapshot no doubt carefully chosen by her elders. Compared to the city’s sea of yellow chrysanthemums, Zhao Yan herself was not breathtakingly beautiful. She wasn’t one of those dazzling, youthful beauties with a perfect figure; her style was pure and conservative. She had a round face, clear eyes, and a smile that radiated gentle warmth, making her very easy to look at. Two sweet dimples graced her cheeks, particularly charming.

Rather than being instantly captivated by stunning beauty, Huang Guolun now preferred gentle, wholesome women like Zhao Yan. He thought to himself that this was a promising introduction and he was genuinely interested in getting to know this like-minded café owner.

Just then, Huang Tao, finally tired of playing with Dudu, jumped onto the sofa beside him to peek at Zhao Yan’s photo.

“Who’s this auntie?”

“Auntie?” Huang Guolun was speechless. He thought Zhao Yan, while not as young and pretty as Teacher Li at kindergarten, certainly didn’t look old enough to be called ‘auntie.’ She looked very young!

“This auntie looks a bit like Sister Zhao Jing,” Huang Tao suddenly said.

“Which Zhao Jing?”

“The one we met at Zhongshan Park!” Huang Tao complained, “How could you forget so quickly?”

At Huang Tao’s reminder, Huang Guolun recalled the girl in white they’d bumped into before. Though both surnamed Zhao, Zhao Jing and Zhao Yan were completely different types—Zhao Jing had an oval face, Zhao Yan a round one. He couldn’t see any resemblance and asked, “How do they look alike?”

Huang Tao, sneaking a few more milky melts, pointed to Zhao Yan’s dimples in the photo. “They both have little dimples right here.”

“So having dimples in the same place means they look alike?”

“Of course! I just love girls with dimples. Li Yaxin in my class has dimples too—she looks so pretty when she smiles. I always drool when I see her smile.”

“…”

Huang Guolun was at a loss for words and stopped talking to Huang Tao.

That evening, at a quarter past seven, Huang Guolun set out for his appointment. Usually, the city was gridlocked on Friday nights, but tonight the traffic was surprisingly smooth. He soon parked near Houhai and, seeing he was early, strolled through the bustling Lotus Market, enjoying the mild early autumn breeze. As he walked, he practiced his extraordinary hearing, picking out unique conversations and songs from the crowd as though he and the world were separated by an invisible barrier, listening only to the sounds he chose—an unexpectedly delightful way to find quiet amid the noise.

Keeping his mind on the task at hand, he didn’t linger at the bar street but headed straight for his destination. Crossing the Silver Ingot Bridge, the melody of He Yong’s legendary “Bell and Drum Towers” echoed in his mind, and he silently marveled at how brilliant the song was. He continued west along Houhai until, far from the bars, he finally arrived at Zhao Yan’s café.

It was a tiny establishment with a stylish name—Salome CAFE—a rare quiet spot in Houhai. From afar, the café exuded an English countryside charm among the red bricks and green tiles, its lights warm and golden, promising a cozy ambiance.

He hesitated at the door, wondering if he should call Zhao Yan first. He took out his phone but put it back—since it was her café and they had agreed on the time, she would surely be inside. He might as well go straight in.

With anticipation, Huang Guolun opened the glass and wood door.

Ding-ling-ling.

The bell above the door chimed brightly.

Inside, the speakers were playing Joanna Wang’s English songs. Compared to the modest exterior, the interior was suffused with European aristocratic style—luxurious yet understated, full of literary flair. The walls were covered with photos from “Pride and Prejudice,” “Marie Antoinette,” and “Sissi.” Hundreds of books and magazines lined elegant wooden shelves.

Clearly, Zhao Yan was a cultured woman who loved reading and film.

It was still dinner time, and the sign outside advertised meal sets, so he expected to see diners. Yet as he entered, he found every seat empty—not a single customer, no one eating, no one drinking coffee, not even a staff member. The place was eerily quiet.

Had Zhao Yan cleared the café for the blind date? That seemed a bit much!

Huang Guolun peered inside, looking for someone.

Just then, a familiar and beautiful face appeared before him.

It wasn’t Zhao Yan, but the very Zhao Jing whom Huang Tao couldn’t stop mentioning!