Ancient??
Ancient people???
Yan Xingli’s mouth twitched.
He wondered if there was something wrong with his ears.
The ancient ancestor’s competitive spirit was ignited. He shot to his feet, pulled open the kitchen’s glass door, and pointed defiantly:
“Do you have any idea how much high-tech gear I have in this kitchen?”
Although he didn’t cook often, his pots, pans, and utensils were all state-of-the-art. Just the rice cooker alone costs five figures.
Yan Xingli picked up his expensive rice cooker: “This rice cooker doesn’t even need me to press a button. Just put the washed rice in, and it takes care of everything on its own.”
“It can even sing.”
As he spoke, Yan Xingli called out to the rice cooker: “Little Pot, Little Pot, please sing a song for the rice-eaters.”
The base of the rice cooker lit up: “Yes, master.”
“Finally, it’s mealtime, time for the Rice Eater to eat! I’m the first to charge into the dining hall!”
Pompous, upbeat music boomed, adding to the lively atmosphere.
“……”
Qi Youyu was speechless.
Xiao Hua: “Hmph.”
It had some talent, but not much.
In the eyes of the high-level robot Xiao Hua, a rice cooker worth only five figures wasn’t even considered an entry-level model.
Without batting its large, emerald-green eyes, it extended a small, round hand resembling a steamed bun. Under Yan Xingli’s puzzled gaze, it snapped into a spatula.
It waved the spatula twice: “Perfect size, and the material matches the most heat-resistant wood in this world.”
Yan Xingli was taken aback.
But that wasn’t all. Xiao Hua’s adorable appearance also changed. The 1.2-meter-tall little runt shot up like a skyscraper rising from the ground, growing to 1.8 meters in an instant, almost catching up to Yan Xingli’s 1.85 meters.
The “Plus” version of Little Hua: Big Fat Hua: \(^o^)/
Big Fat Hua pulled a floral apron from his round belly and tied it on with practiced ease.
Turning to the stunned Yan Xingli, he smiled politely: “Ancient one, please wait a moment. I shall prepare a sumptuous dinner for you and the great little scientist, Yu Yu.”
What followed was like watching a sci-fi movie for Yan Xingli.
Big Fat Flower’s hands transformed from a spatula to a kitchen knife in an instant, and before he knew it, she’d pulled a cutting board from somewhere, wielding the knife with a clang, clang, clang, clang.
A plate of evenly sliced potato strips was born.
Dapanghua’s movements, tossing the wok and wielding the spatula, were as smooth as flowing water, as if she were a master chef with a decade of experience. Before Yan Xingli could fully figure out how she’d done it, she’d already stir-fried a dish of beef and scrambled eggs that truly tested her skills.
After a flurry of activity in the kitchen, Dapanghua presented two dishes that were a feast for the eyes, nose, and palate. Yet the kitchen remained spotless, without a single drop of water or speck of grease; the walls and countertops were so clean they gleamed.
This was because, while cooking, two long, tentacle-like arms extended from Dapanghua’s back to clean the stove and sink, sweeping the floor as it moved.
For a moment, Yan Xingli felt as though he were watching a giant octopus, one that had taken on a human form, cooking in his home.
It was… both magical and eerie.
It was at this moment that Yan Xingli finally began to grasp the reality that the other person was a product of alien technology.
He was convinced that the technology on Cang’ai was far ahead of Earth’s.
Qi Youyu nudged the dumbfounded Yan Xingli toward the dining table and kicked out a chair. “Uncle, Xiao Hua’s cooking is super duper delicious. You should try some.”
Yan Xingli snapped out of his daze. Instead of rushing to taste the food on the table, he grabbed the child and whispered:
“Can it turn back?”
To be honest, Big Fat Hua had given him a tiny bit of a shock. Looking at the burly, snarling creature, he felt a slight sense of pressure.
Qi Youyu mistakenly thought Yan Xingli wanted to see Xiao Hua transform, so she immediately nodded with a smile: “Sure.”
“Xiao Hua, switch to companion mode.”
“Yes, my lovely and kind Lord Youyu.”
Upon receiving the command, Xiao Hua wasted no time, shrinking back into a tiny 1.2-meter-tall little bean. The knife in its hand slowly transformed back into a small, round paw.
Yan Xingli wiped the sweat from his brow and said sheepishly, “It’s quite obedient to you.”
Qi Youyu’s stubby little legs, which couldn’t quite reach the ground, wiggled back and forth as she beamed with pride: “Because I created Xiao Hua and gave it life, it loves me very much and listens to me.”
In truth, there was no need to taste it; just looking at the presentation, one could tell the food was sure to be delicious, and Yan Xingli’s hunch proved spot on.
Xiao Hua’s cooking rivaled that of a professional chef, and the two, grandfather and granddaughter, polished off every last bite.
Adhering to the principle of not wasting food, Yan Xingli rinsed the plate with water and finished off the overly salty braised shrimp.
Yan Xingli felt a mix of emotions as he finished the meal. He stood up, holding his empty rice bowl and plate.
“Ancient One, please sit down.”
“Please leave them to me.”
Tentacle-like arms swept the dishes from his hands. Xiao Hua bustled about like a busy little bee, her short arms wiping down the table while her tentacles washed the dishes in the kitchen.
Yan Xingli: …
His phone rang.
Yan Xingli hung up and walked to the door, signing for a package from the delivery guy in his red uniform.
Little Tail Qi Youyu: “Wow.”
The child’s wide eyes were filled with envy: “What a big present! Is there a lot of rice balls inside?”
Yan Xingli unwrapped the package. Qi Youyu, who had gathered around, was slightly disappointed to find it wasn’t rice balls.
She immediately asked, “Uncle, what is this? Is it your little pot, too?”
Yan Xingli awkwardly scratched the tip of his nose and managed to squeeze out two dry words:
“No.”
He paused briefly. “It’s a stir-fry machine.”
Yan Xingli had prepared for every possibility. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. He wasn’t about to stubbornly stick to something he wasn’t good at.
He’d done his homework in advance and, gritting his teeth, bought an automatic stir-fry machine on an online platform.
The seller thoughtfully included a recipe book filled with dishes the machine could make; no wonder it had so many rave reviews.
Qi Youyu asked innocently, “Uncle, are you going to use the stir-fry machine to teach me how to cook?”
“Oh, I don’t have any plans for that right now.”
Yan Xingli waved the cookbook in his hand. “This is a cookbook. It contains recipes for a hundred dishes. Do you think Xiao Hua could learn from it?”
“The stir-fry machine, a cooking appliance invented by humans on Earth three hundred years ago, is a dull, outdated relic.”
Xiao Hua’s anime-style round feet instantly transformed into wheels, and it spun around Yan Xingli, reading the information in the manual. Its mouth curled upward as it spoke matter-of-factly.
“Oh, ancient people, thank you for expanding my knowledge base. It’s a privilege to witness such an ancient kitchen appliance once again.”
How strange.
Was he just mocked by Little Flower?
Yan Xingli’s face stiffened as he tossed the book into Little Flower’s arms: “No need to thank me. Starting today, cooking and cleaning are your responsibility.”
Either way, the money he saves goes into his own pocket; it’s a win-win.
Qi Youyu: “Uncle, Xiao Hua will take good care of us.”
The little boy tugged at Yan Xingli’s pant leg, his expression solemn: “Uncle, Xiao Hua and I won’t let you keep living this hard life. Your good days are here.”
At that moment, a million sarcastic thoughts flashed through Yan Xingli’s mind.
Oh, right.
Yan Xingli asked seriously, “Did you hide Xiao Hua on the spaceship before?”
How else could he explain the sudden appearance of a chubby little potato in their home?
Qi Youyu’s answer confirmed his suspicion, and he immediately pressed further: “Besides Xiao Hua, are there any other robots on the spaceship?”
“No, Uncle,” Qi Youyu said. “Having Xiao Hua is enough for me.”
Yan Xingli’s gaze darted back and forth between the child and the chubby potato.
“I’m asking you, does Xiao Hua have self-awareness?” he whispered.
Qi Youyu shook his head and tugged at his pigtails three times in denial. “Xiao Hua is just an ordinary robot, not a person.”
“Then can you make her stop calling me an ancient person?” Yan Xingli pinched the child’s pigtails playfully, grumbling under his breath in annoyance. “I’m still young and full of life, she’s just calling me that for no reason.”
“Then should Xiao Hua call me ‘Uncle’ too?”
No sooner had he said it than Qi Youyu dismissed the idea herself: “When I grow up, I’ll be an uncle to Xiao Hua. Every kid should have their own uncle.”
As long as she didn’t call him “Ancient Man,” “Ancestor,” or some random “Auntie,” Yan Xingli was perfectly fine with it.
In the end, the topic was settled with Xiao Hua calling him “Brother Xing.”
Yan Xingli had packed his seven-day vacation to the brim. He’d snagged two tickets to a popular singer’s concert, planning to take Qi Youyu along to soak up the atmosphere.
Once he sent this little tyrant back home, his life could finally get back on track.
However, his leisurely and pleasant vacation hit a snag on the second day when Yan Xingli’s college entrance exam scores were dug up and circulated among major entertainment accounts.
His English score of 30 points was particularly shocking, scaring off a bunch of wavering casual fans and making his already dire public image even worse.
Yan Xingli dominated the top five trending topics, flooding every social media platform. With ridicule coming from all sides, there was no way for him to avoid it.
Yan Xingli had never marketed himself as a top student; he’d been a poor student his whole life and had long since come to terms with it.
So even in the face of widespread ridicule, he remained as steady as a rock, with an incredibly positive attitude.
Let them rant all they want; the Earth is going to explode in fifty years anyway. By then, most of humanity will be dead, and even if we hate each other now, we’ll all be buried together.
Yan Xingli put down his phone and calmly did an extra set of pull-ups.
As if that weren’t enough, his agent Li Zhi, who was out of town on a business trip, called to tell him that the young guest had run away.
Yan Xingli had way too many haters. He wasn’t a top-tier idol with a massive army of die-hard fans to fight for him, so his fans couldn’t keep up with the speed at which the haters were attacking him.
The young guest’s parents, fearing their child would be dragged into the scandal and suffer collateral damage, were willing to forgo the publicity and insist on pulling out.
This left Yan Xingli feeling a bit sad and melancholy.
He was such a law-abiding, hardworking, and down-to-earth person, yet people were so eager to avoid him. Was there any hope for him?
The chibi version of Yan Xingli on his head was rolling around on the ground, tears as thick as noodles streaming down his face.
“Does that mean I don’t have to film anymore?”
“Don’t film?” Li Zhi scoffed on the other end of the line. “Sure, why don’t you look up the penalty clause?”
He’d already looked it up; it was a financial burden his wallet couldn’t bear. He’d better hang up.
Yan Xingli didn’t respond.
Li Zhi: “Don’t worry about the guest. The company will find a replacement no matter what. Just stick to your recording and stop overthinking things.”
After hanging up, Yan Xingli sat on the floor, head hanging low, eyes drooping, looking just like a dead fish.
Qi Youyu, who had been fiddling with things inside the Little Fish Pod, poked her head out: “Uncle, are you worried about something?”
Yan Xingli glared at her with dead fish eyes: “Everyone has worries.”
The child, wearing a metal helmet, stepped out, took off her gloves, and poked his arm: “Uncle, how can I make you happy? ”
The child’s words were like a roasted sweet potato in winter, warm against his heart.
He’s really something; he actually conjured up a roasted sweet potato.
Yan Xingli curled his fingers and tapped the metal helmet twice: “It’s all because of work. I’m used to it; I’ll be fine in a moment.”
Qi Youyu belatedly realized he hadn’t taken off his helmet, so he raised his arm and removed it.
The little guy, who wasn’t even as tall as Yan Xingli’s leg, stood up, patted his little chest, and said with a straight face, “Uncle, don’t go to work. Youyu will take care of you.”
“You?”
Yan Xingli chuckled softly. “By selling rice balls?”
“No way, Xiao Hua would get worn out.”
Qi Youyu said, “Uncle, I have lots of money.”
On the planet Cang’ai, only those who felt bored or were exceptionally ambitious went to work; everyone else lived without any survival pressures.
That’s because when every citizen turns eighteen, the government assigns them a home, a robot doctor, and a monthly stipend sufficient for daily expenses. All they need to do is enjoy life; there’s no need to work hard.
Ever since Qi Youyu was born, her parents had opened a bank account for her, filled with the red envelopes she’d received since birth, government child allowances, and various other miscellaneous income.
The little girl was quite wealthy.
“You can’t spend your money here anyway,” Yan Xingli said indifferently. “Besides, how could an elder like me possibly use a child’s money? It would be a total loss of face if word got out.”
No matter how pathetic he might be, he wouldn’t go so far as to cling to a three-year-old’s leg.
At that moment, the haughty old patriarch thought to himself.
Yan Xingli then recalled the day the holographic screen had broadcast his life story, and his face darkened instantly:
“If you go and add this to my biography later, won’t I be dying a second time?”
Qi Youyu looked confused: “Huh?”
Yan Xingli put on an inscrutable expression: “Social death is still death.”