Chapter 148 Family Gathering 3: Dramatic City
This isn't the first time you've witnessed the "alienation" brought about by rule-based punishment, but this time is different.
Susan's response to the boy made you realize this even more deeply.
She didn't rush to correct him, didn't fly into a rage, and didn't execute some hidden penalty clause like a procedure.
Instead, she used a completely "human" tone, correcting him like an elder, and then forgiving him, thus stopping his distortion.
How is this different from how, in the real world, unruly children gradually learn the rules and regulations that they have to follow as members of society?
These people... they are not born "enlightened" and naturally accept and be trained by the rules. This explains why, in some situations, "locals" are punished by unknown rules just like outsiders.
In an unknown world and in entirely new and accidental settings, they are just like you, "newcomers" who have just stepped onto the stage where rules are established. In their own world, they also need to learn to build their understanding.
You look down at the plate with only a little bit of apple pie left, your thoughts churning—you've questioned this countless times in the dungeon: is it necessary to destroy everything to survive?
Is it only by shattering this false stage and breaking the bloody wall of rules that we can "win"?
But now, you're starting to feel uncertain.
You are well aware of your "incompatibility" with the instance; you are destined to leave this place—or be assimilated, which is tantamount to dying here.
However, the penalty system for duplicates may not be a completely instantaneous procedure.
In this world that resembles game logic, those "locals" may not be entirely mindless NPCs.
They are not merely extensions of the consciousness of the copy; they can punish violators, and within permissible limits, they can choose whether to take action, or even—save them.
Like most outsiders, you used to travel alone and keep a safe distance from the "locals".
Their friendliness can only be met with distrust; their hostility will always be met with a preemptive strike. Of course, this is not your fault, since once you develop a dependence or emotional attachment to this place, you may be lured, consumed, and assimilated.
But now you recall the tenderness on Susan's face as she sat beside you yesterday, bringing you hot cocoa; the happiness you felt when Alan and Susan hugged and laughed together after Alan accidentally missed a note while playing his song… You never doubted your own perception; yesterday, the care and love that Susan and her husband showed you were flawless. You believed that at that moment, they were truly seeing "you"—the person belonging to this world—through you.
The game is not black and white, it's not a matter of life and death.
While maintaining your individuality and avoiding assimilation, perhaps... you could try interacting more with "locals".
Of course, you don't need to force yourself to fit in; just maintain a "neither too close nor too distant" relationship: let them feel that you are "compliant" but not "integrated," giving yourself room to maneuver without exposing the label of "outcast."
Perhaps you can cleverly gain more breathing room within the boundaries of the rules.
For example, right now.
A harmless family dinner, but something just doesn't feel right, with some guests who seem to be subtly or overtly rejecting you and using you as gossip and snacks.
You don't know what will happen next, so leaving the table seems like the best solution; however, what if the kind landlord stays like this after the dinner party?
Why not be a little bolder?
You want to try and see if you can bring Susan back to "normal" and directly dismantle this eerie atmosphere.
First, you need to test what things you can do.
"I'd like to go upstairs and rest first, is that alright?" you asked casually. You knew Susan wouldn't let you leave so easily.
“Honey, your house isn’t finished being renovated yet, and you’ll be staying downstairs for a few more days. Why don’t we have this meal first?” Sure enough, Susan patted your hand, her tone leaving no room for refusal.
The Mexican workers had been hammering and banging on the upper floor all day. In the evening, while you were decorating the yard, the seemingly honest and kind foreman, who had come to talk to Allen about wages with a smile, changed the subject after a wink from Allen. Her eyes darted between you and Allen, and finally she said tactfully that it would take two more days.
You had already vaguely sensed that something was wrong, but your thoughts were divided: one half thought that American workers weren't that efficient, and it was only a day, so it was only natural that they couldn't fix it; the other half was starting to wonder what kind of trap this was, and why you should learn about it first.
Here it is!
So you hugged Susan's arm and said sweetly, "Okay, Susan. Sigh, you know I've been through so much, I'm really tired. I'll stay with you until today is over, then I'll get a good night's sleep, and tomorrow I'll go to yoga class with you so we can relax together."
You acted like a little child dependent on his mother, which made Betty laugh out loud in an exaggerated way.
“She’s just a little baby in your eyes!” Betty said, wiping away tears. “But you’re all grown up now, how can you still be so childish?”
There is no word for "acting coquettishly" in the Ying language, and people your age will not easily cross the line of affection and tenderness with acquaintances like young people in the Flower Kingdom.
Betty sounds like she's subtly teaching you something, but Susan is totally susceptible to it.
Her eyes lit up, and she hugged you, rubbing your arm with a soft, whirring sound, like she was reciting owl's quacking words.
The two of you are putting on a cross-cultural show of maternal love and filial piety. Betty looks at you two, as if something that has been weighing on her all night has finally found an outlet.
“Look at her,” Betty exclaimed, the seemingly very kind woman’s tone shifting to a kind of dazed excitement. “You two are actually quite lucky.”
She looked at Susan, then strangely turned to Ellen and said, "Do you remember my three entitled brats?"
Allen, listen carefully. So do you.
"The older one just left the child with me and went on vacation. He found a girl like that, and after the child was born, he was embroiled in a mountain of lawsuits, and he just dumped it all on me! What can I do?"
“Yes, we know you’ve been through a terrible time,” Allen said, genuinely expressing his sympathy—so genuine that his hand was placed on his heart.
So Americans also have these kinds of messy, everyday stories? That sounds pretty interesting to you.
You only noticed that Betty slammed her glass down with a bang, and that her cheeks were flushed; she looked drunk.
“Let me tell you, Ellen, I don’t expect them to come see me at all right now. All I want now is dogs, really, dogs are more reliable than people. Your daughter—” she pointed at you, “even half, a third, would give me the family I want.”
Susan smiled but didn't reply. She simply patted your shoulder gently with one hand, as if soothing a sleepwalking animal.
You felt something was off about her direct reference to you as "Susan's daughter" in her words.
Betty continued her rapid-fire narration of her family affairs, already touching on her divorce: "He was just like his father! I was too young then, I dropped out of school for love and freedom, he said he was going to open a shop in Iowa, so I went with him. But after only three months, he ran off, leaving me with my unborn child and a mountain of debt. Hey, Alan, did I tell you? I was cut off from my family then, and I had to support the shop on my own, thankfully—"
Under Alan's encouraging gaze, she spoke tenderly to her current residence not far away: "...He, he's quite busy, but for so many years he's let me be a free housewife at home, doing what I love. What more could I ask for?"
“Oh, Betty, I’m really happy for you.” Alan acted like a straight man in a comedy routine. “Everyone has the right to choose their own lifestyle, and you already have all of this, so don’t let past unhappiness affect your current mood. Come on, would you like some more champagne?”
"Alan, come on! To be honest, I envy you and Susan. You only have one child, but you don't seem lonely at all—"
“Yes, Betty, we have a very fulfilling life, and of course, we thank God for bringing this child into our family.” Susan interrupted Betty. “It’s hard for us to stand on some high ground and say we’re doing better than you. We also envy you and your husband. You have a traditional and happy family. You’ve done the best you could for your choices, haven’t you?”
“Susan…” Betty said, taking Susan’s hand, her eyes filled with tears of emotion.
You take the opportunity to slip out of Susan's arms.
"...This isn't the second time you've said it, is it?" Josh muttered under his breath, having remained silent throughout the meal.
Betty heard this and immediately raised her voice: "I don't care how many times I say it, my life is worth those few memories."
Josh raised an eyebrow, lowered his head to eat, and didn't say anything more. Allen, like a good-natured man, tried to smooth things over.
“Don’t forget, there are some children here,” he said.
"Allen, apart from your 'baby,' we're all adults," a boy about your age teased in a shrill voice.
You looked at him, and he raised an eyebrow at you in return. He, along with two other people his age, had come with Margaret.
Margaret is a staunch advocate of remaining single, and this boy is her nephew who came to spend the summer with her. There's no such thing as too many guests here; she brought along several of her nephew's friends.
You don't remember his name, but it doesn't really matter anyway.
Just then, Kevin dramatically raised his glass to his lips, his every movement seemingly meticulously planned, and snapped his fingers like a frozen stripper.
His face was flushed from drinking, and he finally found an opportunity to speak.
“Speaking of kids, I have to say a few words.” Kevin tapped his glass with his fork, striking a pose as if he were about to give a campaign speech.
No one responded to him, but he continued on.
As they spoke, Kevin poured himself another glass of wine.
I didn't know what he wanted to say, the only thing I could tell was that he was very excited. One of his collars loosened, and his gestures became increasingly exaggerated.
"Honestly, kids these days are all so fragile. They're always complaining about 'anxiety' and 'social anxiety,' and they even talk about 'boundaries.' It's completely different from the way we used to play football every day and practice our drinking skills outside the frat house at night." (Brotherhood apartment)
As he spoke, he turned back and raised his glass to you; "Of course, I'm not talking about you, you're different."
That's strange. You put down your knife and fork, tilting your head with a slight smile: "How am I different?"
Kevin blinked, effortlessly discerning the invitation in your words, as if this were a stage you had set up, and of course he was willing to jump on and give a long talk.
“Don’t pay attention to these kids,” he said matter-of-factly. “You, like many young people I know in Asia, seem to be naturally better suited to society. You see, you know when to speak and when to listen. You have that… I don’t know how to say it, that ‘good kid’ quality—I don’t mean you’re a nerd, but girls and boys are different after all. You’re not one of those bookworms who stay home playing video games and only know how to post on social media.” (A derogatory term for a nerd)
A crisp scraping sound interrupted Kevin's words; it was Josh. He was cutting the steak, which was now reduced to a small piece, without saying a word, but the tip of the knife scraped heavily across the plate.
You seemed oblivious, a faint glint in your eyes: "Oh, so I'm a decent girl?"
“Oh, baby! Don’t use that tone. You know, I may speak in a more outdated way,” Kevinton said, thinking he had done a good job of concealing his head-and-shoulders look at you, “but I’m always a little more experienced.”
"No, I'm just curious and seriously want to 'ask for advice'—so what kind of boy do you think is... decent?" you ask.
"Decent?" Kevin laughed loudly, the topic hitting the nail on the head. "You have to be able to handle things, you have to be good at negotiating, and most importantly, you have to be a leader! Like in our fraternity back in the day—everyone had to be able to stand up and reason things out, and they were good at sports too. That's what makes a man! That's the kind of quality an American should have!"
You listened attentively and continued to throw out the bait: "What if they don't like playing ball, or aren't good at socializing?"
“Then let’s practice!” Kevin said without hesitation. “Baby! Do you think we Americans are born saying to the nurse, ‘Hey baby, I like what you’re wearing’? Back then, we took turns picking people up from bars to parties every Friday. One of my buddies was shy, so we each had him strike up a conversation with a girl—to build up his confidence. If he succeeds, he’s growing; if he doesn’t, then he keeps practicing.”
Kevin became more confident, and his words became increasingly uncontrollable—although he had been quite confident from the beginning.
“Kevin—” Susan tried to interrupt him. Kevin, however, said directly to Allen, “Please, don’t be so serious.”
“Sounds a lot like military training,” you whisper, pressing Susan’s hand. Susan lets you continue talking to Kevin.
As you might expect, even in this unusual situation, Susan isn't the type to be overly concerned about who you talk to.
Kevin was pleased with your response. He laughed heartily and slammed his hand on the table: "You're absolutely right! The fraternity is a man's boot camp. It's about loyalty, discipline, and honor code. Do you even know what 'honor code' is? Keeping your word, breaking it means punishment, it's all the same!"
You watched as he drank more and more, his mouth moving faster and faster, his words like boiling soup in a pot, seemingly unaware of which sentence might splash out and scald someone.
You casually ask, "There are several men here." Your gaze first falls on Margaret's nephew, you only glancing casually at Josh—and of course, next is Alan, while Kevin doesn't miss your eyes at all.
Would your fraternity accept this back then?
This time, Josh stopped holding the knife.
He didn't notice that your gaze had also swept over him, because he had his ears perked up and was fully focused on listening to Kevin's explanation.
Kevin paused for a moment, then shrugged: "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. The boys here, hey, these younger ones are alright, but Allen—Allen, you'd better lose some weight."
"Please, I don't fall for that," Allen laughed bluntly.
Kevin didn't mind Allen's retort, because his main focus wasn't on Allen.
It was Josh.
Oh, this guy who looks utterly nerdy, skinny, with a big head and ridiculous glasses, and who, though he probably hasn't reached Incel's level, is ultimately an involuntary bachelor.
Kevin's gaze lingered on him for a long time, and you watched as Kevin's muscles swelled up like his ego.
Speaking of which, Kevin also claims to be a bachelor, and his social media is full of workout photos to cultivate an image of a carefree, unattached old boy who isn't swayed by women. But you found another account: it's full of photos of him with young, beautiful blondes in nightclubs—as for how you found it…
You're not some modern-day hacking guru. The only thing you've ever done—dig up people and find accounts—was occasionally helping a friend who was going through a relationship to monitor the person who hurt her, their ex, and their potential current partner.
Ultimately, Kevin couldn't hide it any longer... He wanted to follow the trend and be a charming, modern American daddy who had no woman in his heart, but he also couldn't help showing off the "sexual resources" he could get.
Honestly, you yourself find it a bit absurd. You turned everyone here upside down before you even knew what was going to happen tonight.
This is also the source of your confidence to stay here patiently and continue the experiment.
You were distracted for a moment, and Kevin quickly noticed. He didn't continue speaking until you snapped back to reality, his enthusiasm undiminished.
"—As for Josh, haha, man! It's just that… he might not really be able to adapt to our pace. He—don't look at me like that, we've been good friends for so many years, you should be… how should I put it, the kind of logical person who likes to think, your hobby is reading books at home, right?"
He looked at you: “I have a company—I don’t know if Susan has told you about it—and I’ve tried hiring these ‘highly intelligent introverts’ before, but they’re just a bit, how should I put it… not very sociable.”
You have no idea what he's showing off.
You repeat softly, "Not very sociable?" You glance apologetically at Josh, who has already clenched his fists.
“Exactly,” Kevin said, oblivious to the fact that he was getting more and more into it. “You ask them to throw a party, and they’re always thinking about the process; you ask them to negotiate, and all they talk about is ‘data, data.’ Good heavens! So girly! Brothers are all about feelings and intuition, not algorithms!”
“Well, ladies, don’t look at me like that. I’ve always been a feminist, you know. I even participated in the previous marches, remember?” Kevin gestured to both Betty and Margaret, pressing his right fingertip against his left palm, making a “stop” gesture.
“But some people are just better at analysis and thinking. Does that mean they can’t be accepted by the Brotherhood?” you said.
“Acceptance is one thing, but I can’t be the leader,” Kevin waved his hand. “Can you imagine a student council president who was made by writing Python? At that time, not only girls from other schools, but even our own people will laugh their heads off.”
You remain calm and collected: "But these kinds of people often become the most important CTOs."
“CTO?” Kevin scoffed. “I’m not a tech guy! All these tech companies have gone astray! Young lady, do you know what’s most important? People are the most important! Industry, people! What’s wrong with that?”
Your attentive listening clearly encouraged the speaker, and then you casually remarked, "It sounds like you're a big supporter of the blond president?"
Kevin's eyes widened, finally regaining some sobriety from his drunkenness: "Are you kidding me? What good is he besides being blond?"
“However, what you’re saying seems to align more with some outdated values,” you said, calmly refuting the overt stance of almost everyone present. “Besides, Josh is already a capable adult; perhaps he shouldn’t be judged by you like that. Nor does he need to be judged by you like that.”
As you spoke, you looked at Josh encouragingly.
The latter finally raised his head, his tone extremely soft but steady, and pushed up his glasses: "Kevin, are you saying that someone like me should only exist in your system, and shouldn't appear in front of you?"
Kevin hadn't yet realized the weight of those words. He was still bewildered by the sudden rebuttal from this "little girl," and grinned to himself, "You're being too philosophical. I'm just stating the facts—not talking about the fraternity, though? This isn't for everyone, you know?"
“It’s not for ‘people like you’,” Josh repeated.
The atmosphere suddenly froze.
You notice that, while the atmosphere was also tense, this was something Susan was happy to do, and therefore, some punishments were not carried out.
Or rather, they are still waiting to punish "someone".
Susan simply stirred her teacup with a spoon, as if waiting for some inevitable plot to unfold.
You subtly move closer to Susan—as I told you, Susan really likes your closeness to her, and you almost instantly feel an indescribable sense of security.
This is the first time you've received "protection" in a situation that was initially targeting you.
But what is the price of protection? Your eyes are always fixed on Kevin.
“Actually, I think Josh is right,” you say calmly. “Some systems are indeed not designed for a certain type of person, but if they are too exclusive, shouldn’t they be redesigned?”
"Hey, don't be so sensitive!" Kevin started to get impatient. "I was talking about differences in group personalities, not discrimination. Your generation is the best at taking things out of context!"
"You're the one who said 'taking things out of context'?" Margaret said coldly, mockingly.
Kevin paused for a moment.
“Don’t interrupt,” he said.
“Don’t you dare interrupt.” Josh felt his support and grew increasingly confident. “Kevin, stop playing dumb. Every word you’ve said draws a line: what constitutes a ‘decent man,’ what constitutes ‘proper character,’ and what constitutes a ‘acceptable person.’ You’re almost 50; you’re no longer that sexy little boy who could say anything and be forgiven!”
"What are you doing—" Kevin's face flushed red, "You're a typical complainer—you blame others for the rules just because you don't fit in!"
“Of course there’s something wrong with the rules,” you said. “If the rules are based on the premise that one group of people must remain silent and another group must speak out, then aren’t they meant to be changed?”
Susan looks at you quietly.
Only Betty was still confused, saying, "I think Kevin has always been talkative. Although what he said this time was a bit excessive, we don't need to argue like this."
Susan sighed softly, as if using the gentlest of words, and said, "We're not arguing. We're just still trying to get used to each other."
You suddenly understood her tone. She had had enough of the drama, and this time she wasn't offering advice, but a warning: this is enough, don't break the facade of harmony any further.
You smile slightly and raise your glass: "To adaptability."
“Adaptability is admirable,” Margaret was the first to respond.
Josh hesitated for a moment, then raised his glass: "To those who cannot be defined."
Kevin didn't say anything, but eventually he also raised his glass, only drinking a little faster than before.
“Thank you for everything,” Susan said.
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Author's Note: Revised: I originally wanted to focus on a certain cult style, but in the end I chose to write a story with a pure, dramatic, and slightly eccentric feel, just as I initially intended. (Original: My teeth are finally healed and I can eat again. As soon as I finished eating something delicious, ideas popped into my head, and then I fell asleep... Anyway, I got up and started writing! I'll go out for dinner in a bit, and when I come back I'll try my best to finish this little chapter. After that, I can write two or three more short stories and move on to the next chapter! Love it!!)
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