Soren looked down at the small fortune in his hand, pulled out a single note, and brought it up to inspect it closely.
"Holy shit, a 1,000-denomination note. They can't all be real, can they?"
Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, he immediately squatted down behind a stone pier and began to count.
One, two, three...
He counted it three times back and forth. Exactly one hundred bills, every single one of them a 1,000-denomination note.
With an excited heart and trembling hands, Soren pressed the Beli to his nose and took a deep, greedy sniff. The scent of banknote ink instantly filled his nasal passages.
"Oh, sweet smell. So this is what money smells like?"
"I'm rich, I'm actually rich! One hundred thousand Beli! A full one hundred thousand!"
"Am I finally going to live the good life?"
The sheer impact of the money was so powerful that Soren felt the pain in his body fade away considerably.
Thinking back to his past life, after three years of working, his savings had never amounted to more than a few thousand yuan. As a card-carrying member of the moonlight clan, once he got his salary, paid the rent, utilities, and phone bills, and cleared his online shopping debts, he would be left with a mere few hundred yuan for food.
Saving money? Easier said than done. Having a nest egg was nothing more than a euphemism for scrimping and starving.
And now, in this life? After his father passed away, the family had relied solely on the survivor's pension, and whatever little savings they had were completely wiped out during his mother's illness.
Although Grandpa Doug usually gave him some pocket change, it was mostly in fifty- or one-hundred-Beli coins; paper money was a rare sight. Especially after he started taking charge of the grocery shopping, he realized that their household wasn't well off at all. The money earned from growing and selling flowers was barely enough to keep them fed, let alone eat well.
That was why Grandpa Doug loved hotpot—it was the only time he was willing to splurge on meats he wouldn't normally buy. On ordinary days, their meals consisted mostly of vegetables, eggs, fish, and other basic ingredients.
"Decided. In ten days—March 13th—is Little Irene's birthday. I'll buy her a pretty dress as a birthday gift. No little girl could possibly dislike that."
"As for Grandpa Doug, I'll buy more of the beef he loves and try out some new recipes. Besides, the training plan Lieutenant Commander Garp gave me is extremely intense; if I don't eat well, my scrawny frame won't be able to take it."
Musing to himself, Soren stood up, tucked the money into his pocket, and started walking unsteadily down the street.
It was time to go home and cook.
That evening, the dishes on Doug's dinner table were unusually lavish: spicy beef, braised beef in soy sauce, tomatoes with beef brisket, sizzling beef tripe, stir-fried beef with scallions...
Little Irene and Grandpa Doug stared at the table full of meat dishes and fell into a stunned silence.
"Soren, is there something special about today? Or are we having guests over later?" Grandpa Doug asked Soren, who was just walking out of the kitchen carrying a large bowl of soup.
"Dig in, you two. No guests are coming. As for special things, there are a few matters to discuss, but we can talk as we eat."
Soren set the soup down, pulled out a chair, and sat down. After taking a few bites of food, he noticed that neither of them had touched their chopsticks, so he spoke up.
"All right, all right, I'll break the news first. Number one: from now on, our family's meal standards will be just like tonight's dinner."
Hearing this, the two of them widened their eyes in shock. Seeing Grandpa Doug looking as if he had something to say but holding back, Soren smiled and continued.
"Number two: today, while I was watching the sea down at the docks, I ran into Lieutenant Commander Garp of the Navy. He told me he was my father's apprentice, and then I made him my sworn big brother. Oh, and Little Irene? From now on, you have two big brothers."
"No! Having Soren-gege is enough, I don't want anyone else," Little Irene said, shaking her head rapidly.
"Number three: Big Brother Garp gave me 100,000 Beli, saying it was a pension. I'm guessing there should be a monthly payout from now on until I come of age. But I also know that a normal pension shouldn't be this much—"
Soren paused for a second.
"—He said he hopes I can become strong."
Little Irene looked at Soren in confusion and asked, "What does 'strong' mean?"
He was momentarily stunned, then reached out and patted the head of Little Irene sitting beside him.
"A strong person is someone who protects you."
"Then Soren-gege is a strong person, because Soren-gege protects me!" Little Irene said happily.
Grandpa Doug, on the other hand, wore a dim, rather unnatural expression.
"Alright, that's all three things. Anyway, the kitchen in this house belongs to me now, so I call the shots on what we eat. Eat up, eat up!"
Dinner ended amidst Little Irene's cheerful laughter. Afterwards, Little Irene insisted on washing the dishes.
Grandpa Roger, meanwhile, called Soren out of the house. The two walked all the way in silence to the large tree behind the mountain.
The back mountain was quiet at night, moonlight spilling across the distant flower fields while leaves rustled softly in the breeze.
"Soren, ever since your mother passed away, I feel like you've changed a lot. It's as if you grew up all at once," Grandpa Roger said slowly, looking at the gravestone in front of the tree.
"That's a good thing. But you are still just a child. And you are my grandson."
"Your father was a great naval officer and a strong man—very strong."
"Many people on this island received his help, including myself. It was precisely because of his existence that this island was spared from pirate raids time and time again."
The old man suddenly turned his head and looked directly into Soren's eyes.
"Yet, he died!"
"Even a strong man like your father died in the struggle against pirates."
"Child, I don't want you to become strong. I just want you to live a safe and peaceful life. That is more than enough."
Soren looked at the old man before him. The once sturdy frame now appeared somewhat hunched.
"Don't worry, Grandpa. I have no desire to become like my father, nor do I have any intention of joining the Navy right now."
"I'm just planning to condition my body using the methods Big Brother Garp suggested. Look at these skinny arms and legs of mine—after all, I've got to protect Little Irene in the future, right? Being too scrawny won't do."
As he spoke, Soren gestured to himself. He walked over, began massaging the old man's shoulders, and continued, "Besides, you know me. My cooking is fantastic. If I open a restaurant, people waiting to eat my food would line up from one end of the street to the other. Business would be beyond amazing."
"When that time comes, I'll cook, you can collect the money, and Irene can be a waitress. We won't even need to farm anymore. I guarantee your hands will go numb from counting cash."
"Besides, compared to running around everywhere on the ocean, I'd much rather stay by your side. We can bask in the sun and look out at the sea whenever we want. Life will be peaceful and infinitely happy."
Grandpa Roger glanced back at Soren's bright, radiant smile.
"That's good. That's good."
"The sea is still far too dangerous. Opening a restaurant sounds like a fine idea. In a few years, when you're a bit older, we'll open one."
"No problem, we definitely will. Now you can finally rest easy, right? It's getting late, let's head home. If we stay out any longer, Little Irene will start to worry."
Under the moonlight, the grandfather and grandson walked the road back home.
Behind them, the night wind blew, and a few leaves drifted slowly down onto the gravestone—withering, dying. Some fates are predestined from the very beginning.