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Chapter 1: A Son Fell From The Sky
We are a family.
One minute, two minutes… ten minutes passed, yet Qin Feng racked his brains and still couldn’t figure out how he suddenly became a father.
But the child in front of me is real.
The child was about four years old, dressed in simple monk’s robes, with a shiny bald head that could practically reflect light. His fair, delicate features made him look like a figure straight out of a traditional New Year painting.
The fact that the child was a monk wasn’t particularly surprising. Back when Qin Feng was studying in the capital, he had often seen young monks while out with classmates.
The problem was that this little monk bore an eight-point resemblance to his childhood self and a six-point resemblance to him now.
If this had happened in his previous life and a son had suddenly appeared, Qin Feng would’ve accepted it quite calmly and with a clear conscience.
But this life was different. He was born in 1960, a time when the entire country was tightening its belt to get by. He had gone from being a second-generation rich kid to a farmer with his back to the sky.
Not wanting to starve or to catch a cold and die without money for treatment, Qin Feng had no choice but to roll up his sleeves and work hard—using knowledge to change his fate.
He barely had enough time to read every day, let alone indulge in romance. Besides, he entered university in 1977, went abroad in the second half of 1979, and returned to China in 1985, having only come back once in 1983. It had only been three years since then. The timeline didn’t match with the little monk’s age.
Even if he had accidentally been caught up in someone else’s scheme, considering that all the female classmates he knew were foreigners, the kid would at least be mixed-race.
Qin Feng sat down and motioned for the child to come closer.
The child obediently walked over.
Qin Feng picked him up, sat him on his lap, and leveled their gazes. “Little monk, let me ask you something. Answer honestly. Who told you I’m your dad?”
“Master,” the bald little boy answered without hesitation in his milky voice.
Qin Feng asked in exasperation, “Just because he said so, it must be true?”
The child nodded without a second thought.
At that moment, Qin Feng realized he wouldn’t get much out of questioning him.
The boy was too young and had grown up in a simple environment. To him, there might not even be a clear distinction between men and women.
If the old monk had told him Qin Feng was his mom, the little monk probably would’ve believed that too.
Closing his eyes, calming down for a moment, and organizing his thoughts, Qin Feng remembered that the Northern Railway Factory where he worked was located in the southeast of Binhai City. Just across the road was the countryside—Wuli Village, his hometown.
He had seen everyone from both the factory and the village before, and he had never seen this child.
The little monk must have come from somewhere else.
The Northern Railway Factory was on the outskirts of Binhai. To get there, one would have to either ride a bike, walk, or take the bus.
None of those options were realistic for a child around four years old, especially since he was carrying a bag across his body and had a large bag placed at his feet.
So, someone must have brought him to the factory gate.
It was possible that this person was currently hiding in a spot where Qin Feng couldn’t see them, keeping an eye on the factory’s residential area to ensure that he didn’t abandon the child, leaving the little monk to wander the streets.
To be honest, Qin Feng hadn’t initially planned to bring the child home. It was just that it was rush hour, and the area was crowded with people coming and going. The child kept calling out “Daddy, Daddy” incessantly. If Qin Feng didn’t quickly take the child away, by tomorrow, the entire factory and village—everyone from both sides of the road—would think he was a scumbag who had abandoned his wife and child.
In his past life, being called a scumbag might not have bothered him.
But in this life, he hadn’t even held a girl’s hand, yet he was being honored with such a reputation? That was a massive loss.
Qin Feng opened his eyes and stared at the child, asking, “Was it your master who brought you here?”
The child nodded obediently. “Yes.”
Qin Feng continued, “And your master told you I’m your dad?”
The child nodded again, his round eyes full of confusion.
—Why is Daddy asking this?
Qin Feng laughed out of sheer exasperation.
Suddenly having a son appear out of nowhere—how else was he supposed to ask?
He wasn’t some divine dragon that could impregnate a woman just because she dreamed of him.
“And your master isn’t afraid I won’t acknowledge you as my son?”
The child shook his head confidently. “He’s not afraid.”
“Is that something your master told you, too?”
The child thought for a moment, then turned around to grab the backpack behind him. He rummaged through it and finally pulled out a letter.
Qin Feng couldn’t help but say, “Why didn’t you take it out earlier?”
Grabbing the letter, he set the child aside and eagerly tore it open. A faint, distinctive scent from the temple wafted out.
At this moment, Qin Feng paid no attention to such trivial details.
Unfolding the letter, he noticed that the opening wasn’t Hello or any kind of address like To the father of the child. Instead, it began with a blunt I’m sorry. Qin Feng immediately knew he hadn’t misremembered anything—he hadn’t done anything shameful, and the little monk wasn’t his son.
For a moment, Qin Feng’s emotions were a chaotic mix, and he almost wanted to put the letter onto the little monk’s face.
Turning his head, he saw the child’s chubby little hands resting on his knees, his back straight, lips tightly pressed together, and his face filled with a serious and nervous expression. Qin Feng couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Especially when he looked at the child’s face, which was a mirror image of his own childhood self. The thought of throwing the child out instantly vanished.
What if the old monk was gone? Could he really leave this boy to wander the streets?
Qin Feng shifted his gaze back to the letter and continued reading patiently.
The old monk hadn’t always been a monk.
When the Cultural Revolution began, the old monk’s wife and children severed ties with him. As the head of a large family with considerable wealth, the old monk had a rough time during those years. His properties were confiscated, his wealth seized, and he was sent to a farm for hard labor.
When the chaos finally ended and investigations cleared his name, his property was returned in full. The old monk thought he could finally enjoy his twilight years in peace. Unexpectedly, his wife and children came back, apologizing and begging for forgiveness.
But the old monk’s heart had been broken. He didn’t want to deal with them anymore. However, they kept showing up, disturbing the peace of the neighborhood. Left with no other choice, the old monk decided to turn over all his large antiques to the state. On a dark and windy night, he carried smaller items and headed for the temple.
On the way, he tripped over something. Looking down, he was shocked— a child!
Shining his flashlight on the child, he saw its face pale and lifeless, resembling that of a dead baby. The old monk was prepared to find a place to bury it. But the moment he picked the child up, it moved slightly. Panicked, the old monk rushed it to the hospital. He wrapped the child in blankets and kept it close to his body for warmth throughout the night until its body finally heated up.
He had thought that even if the child woke up, its chances of survival were slim.
But against all odds, the child proved to be strong and resilient. The old monk took it to the temple, feeding it rice soup and porridge every day. The child grew healthier and more energetic with each passing day.
The old monk originally planned to send the child down the mountain to attend school when he turned six. The gold, silver, and jade items he brought from home were not donated to the temple but saved for the child’s education.
Unfortunately, the plan could not catch up with the changes.
The old monk’s scheming and greedy family found him.
Fearing they would discover the little monk’s existence or that the child might fall into their hands, the old monk decided to find a good family for the child. Unwilling to take the risk of finding someone locally, he traveled over a hundred miles to Binhai City.
As soon as he boarded the bus, he saw Qin Feng, who bore a striking resemblance to the little monk. The old monk immediately thought he had found the child’s biological father.
He followed Qin Feng to the Northern Railway Factory and inquired about his character from nearby residents.
In the eyes of others, Qin Feng’s character was exemplary.
Of the three people from the area who went abroad to study in the past, Qin Feng was the only one who returned after completing his studies to contribute to his country.
Qin Feng was filial to his parents, caring toward his sister, and deeply affectionate toward his two nieces.
After returning to China, he worked under an elderly engineer who was developing electric trains. At the beginning of this year, when the engineer reached the end of his life, he chose to transfer his house to Qin Feng and entrusted his two grandchildren to him, rather than relying on his own daughter, who lived in the city.
This alone spoke volumes about Qin Feng’s character.
The old monk also understood that, based on the timeline, it was impossible for Qin Feng to be the little monk’s biological father.
But no one was more suitable than Qin Feng.
Qin Feng’s parents were alive and well and could help with childcare. He was still young himself, capable of looking after the child.
There was enough space in his small house for the little monk, and with his high salary, he could afford to support him.
Most importantly, Qin Feng and the little monk looked remarkably alike. If they went to the local authorities, they could get a household registration for the child even without proof.
At the end of the letter, the old monk repeatedly begged Qin Feng to adopt the child. The gold, silver, and jade in the child’s bag were all his to keep.
If Qin Feng ever married and had his own children and could no longer care for the boy, the old monk pleaded for him to entrust the child to his parents rather than giving him away.
This child was too pitiful.
Being abandoned again would likely ruin him for life.
At this point in the letter, Qin Feng couldn’t help but glance at the child.
The child couldn’t help but turn toward him.
Although wearing monk’s robes, the child was very clean, even more so than many children from the staff residence whose parents were both alive. There was no dirt or grime under his nails, which showed just how well the old monk had cared for him.
If it came to sending the child away, Qin Feng did have a potential option: his sister.
His sister had two daughters, but she was afraid to try for a third child, fearing it would also be a girl and she wouldn’t be able to afford to raise it.
Both she and her husband, however, desperately wanted a son.
If the little monk were given to them, his sister would surely treat him like a treasure, especially because the child looked like him. But his brother-in-law was a different story—he was petty and calculating, and sooner or later, the child would end up living in fear, like Jia Huan in Dream of the Red Chamber, never able to stand up for himself.
Just the thought of the child, with his face resembling his own, having to do such demeaning things made Qin Feng unable to tolerate it.
Giving the child to someone else might work, as long as they only had one child, but he feared that if they eventually had their own children, the little monk would likely end up as nothing more than a servant in that family.
That was something Qin Feng couldn’t stand.
He let out a long sigh.
The old monk must have predicted this.
“Daddy, what’s wrong?” the child asked.
Qin Feng instinctively replied, “Don’t call me Daddy!”
The child immediately stopped speaking, his body stiffening.
Then, he relaxed again.
The master had said that since Qin Feng had never been a father and didn’t know of the child’s existence, he wasn’t used to being called Daddy yet. He needed to understand his father, to be patient, and not hold it against him or get angry.
Qin Feng saw the child’s expression shift back and forth and opened his mouth, wanting to explain that he wasn’t yelling at him.
“Daddy, then should I call you ‘benefactor’?” the child asked.
Qin Feng nearly bit his tongue. “...Don’t call me benefactor.”
“Benefactor Daddy?”
Qin Feng: “...”
“Call me Uncle.”
The little monk tilted his head and asked, “Like brother?”
“You have a brother?” Qin Feng quickly looked around.
It was just the two of them.
Qin Feng sighed in relief and suddenly had an idea. “Are you talking about Wuyi and Qingkuang?”
“Yes!” The child nodded, “Gu Wuyi and Gu Qingkuang. Daddy, why don’t they have the same last name as us, Qin?”
Qin Feng’s mouth moved, wanting to say, You don’t have the last name Qin either.
But as soon as he saw the child’s face, Qin Feng hesitated.
Who would believe he didn’t have the last name Qin, looking like that?
“The two brothers aren’t Daddy’s biological children; they’re my master’s, Grandpa Gu’s grandchildren. Before Grandpa Gu passed away, he entrusted them to me. Although our last names are different, we’re still a family on the same household register.”
The little monk nodded.
“Do you understand?”
The child spread his arms, “I understand! We are a family.”
Qin Feng couldn’t help but reach out and pick him up.
The child wrapped his arms around his neck. “I have a daddy, I have a family, I’m not a wild monk with no one to care for me anymore!”
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