My Dad Fell in Love… With Someone My Age - Chapter 9

To Zhou Nian, Zhou Tingzhi’s life had always seemed dull and monotonous. It was as if he had been working from the moment he was born. His daily schedule was packed to the brim, his calendar crammed with meetings and responsibilities. Even his occasional golf outings were just business engagements in disguise. As far as hobbies went, swimming and hiking were the only ones Zhou Nian ever knew of.

He had never imagined that Zhou Tingzhi could play video games.

It all started when Tao Xin, curious about Zhou Tingzhi’s gaming skills, handed over her phone and asked him to play a solo ranked match. Zhou Nian was so intrigued that he didn’t even bother eating; he stood behind Zhou Tingzhi, eyes glued to the screen, and watched the entire game unfold.

Though it was a low-tier match in the gold rank, Zhou Tingzhi’s performance with Sun Shangxiang was flawless—no wasted movements, precise positioning, consistent output. In just seven minutes, he led his team to break through the high ground and win.

When the phone announced “VICTORY,” Zhou Nian felt as if he had just woken from a dream, staring at Zhou Tingzhi in disbelief.

“That was fast,” said Tao Xin, equally surprised as she took the phone back. Then she grinned and teased, “MVP! You’re way better than Zhou Nian.”
Zhou Tingzhi allowed a faint smile to rise at the corners of his lips—a subtle but unmistakable sign of pride.

It was the first time Zhou Nian had ever seen that expression on Zhou Tingzhi’s face, and it stirred something complicated in his heart.

He remembered how, as a child, Zhou Tingzhi only came home during holidays. Each time, he would pull into the courtyard, honk twice—a signal only he and Zhou Nian shared. The moment Zhou Nian heard the familiar honking, he would dash out, beaming with joy. Before he turned ten, Zhou Tingzhi would always lift him high above his head, then open the trunk to reveal a carload of gifts.

To young Zhou Nian, waiting for Zhou Tingzhi’s return was like anticipating the New Year—naïve and simple. But as he grew older and began to crave fatherly companionship, he also developed a more mature understanding: the wealth, privilege, and status he enjoyed all stemmed from Zhou Tingzhi’s success, built from nothing.

When an average man neglects his family for work, it might seem like an excuse to avoid responsibility. But in Zhou Tingzhi’s case, it was forgivable. Even if he had never attended a single parent-teacher meeting,

Zhou Nian never felt a lack of fatherly presence. Teachers would always speak of his father with softened voices, and his classmates envied him.

Zhou Nian had always been proud of Zhou Tingzhi.

But in just these past few days, his entire understanding of his father had been turned upside down. The man before him now felt both familiar and utterly foreign.

Li Lequan was just as shaken, though less emotionally affected. Still, he kept up his usual act as the enthusiastic cheerleader. “I can’t believe Uncle Zhou plays this too! My dad doesn’t even know what Honor of Kings is!”

Before Zhou Tingzhi could respond, Tao Xin jumped in proudly, giving a thumbs-up: “That’s nothing. You should’ve seen your Uncle Zhou play Red Alert back in the day—totally unbeatable!”

Her tone was so confident it sounded like she had witnessed it herself. Whether Zhou Tingzhi was really “unbeatable” at Red Alert was debatable, but one thing was certain—he had told his young girlfriend stories about his youth.

God, they’re already talking about their pasts?! If that’s not love, what is?

Li Lequan glanced sideways at the unusually quiet Zhou Nian and thought to himself: He’s going to have to accept this stepmom whether he likes it or not.

Li Lequan truly had Zhou Nian’s best interests in mind. He didn’t want their relationship to become so strained that it caused a rift between father and son, especially not if it could lead to Zhou Tingzhi and Tao

Xin breaking up. That would be a lose-lose.

With that thought, Li Lequan amped up his role as cheerleader. “Unbeatable, really? Uncle Zhou, have you ever played Overcooked? Zhou Nian and I spent two hours on one level and couldn’t even get three stars—it’s so hard! No mistakes allowed!”

Seeing Zhou Nian looking glum, Zhou Tingzhi took the bait willingly. He smiled. “Never played it before, but I can give it a try.”

Zhou Nian looked reluctant, even a bit sulky, but when the other three all agreed enthusiastically, he had no choice but to go along with the group.

Tao Xin was the first to kick off her shoes and curl up on the living room sofa, ready for a show. Zhou Tingzhi sat beside her and handed her a controller. “You try it too.”

Since it was his first time, Zhou Tingzhi needed to learn the mechanics. Tao Xin accepted the controller with a grin. “Let’s see how hard it really is.”

The game was easy to pick up but hard to master. Within a few minutes, they could navigate it smoothly—but getting high scores was another matter. It required clear thinking, tight coordination, and optimal time management.

Tao Xin found it pretty entertaining. She steered her blue character around, chopping vegetables and plating food nonstop. She worked hard, only to find they had barely earned one star.

“What? Why? I didn’t mess up!”

“It’s on me,” Zhou Tingzhi said gently. “I shouldn’t have carried the pot. I should’ve brought the plate to the counter instead.”

Realizing this, Tao Xin also remembered having a few idle seconds where she could’ve washed dishes. “Okay, got it. So dishes are crucial—we have to keep an eye on them.”

After analyzing their failure, they restarted. Tao Xin was determined to get three stars. She was totally absorbed, mumbling constantly: “Chop, chop, serve, plate, no more ingredients, no more—”

When Zhou Tingzhi focused, though, he barely spoke. Throughout the entire session, he only said one thing: “Let’s chop vegetables first. I’ll wash the dishes.”

Li Lequan, watching their score creep higher and higher—almost reaching three stars with thirty seconds left—elbowed Zhou Nian and whispered, “Dude, this is only the fourth round. Is your dad a machine? He still hasn’t touched a pot!”

Zhou Nian’s expression was tight and frosty, making Li Lequan momentarily wonder if his friend had an Oedipal complex.

“Yay! Three stars!” Tao Xin cheered, waving her controller with smug satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard!”

Not hard? Li Lequan rolled his eyes and skipped ahead ten levels.

Two minutes later, Tao Xin handed her controller to Zhou Nian. “You take over. This game is too childish for me.”

Zhou Tingzhi had said he would treat Zhou Nian like an eight-year-old—and it was almost spot on. Even though he was sulking, Zhou Nian still took the controller and sat down beside his father, clearly just wanting to be close to him.

No wonder Zhou Tingzhi couldn’t bring himself to tell the truth. Anyone would feel the same.

Tao Xin thought so too as she glanced at Zhou Tingzhi. He was now listening carefully to Zhou Nian and Li Lequan explaining their strategy. His serious expression made it look less like gaming and more like a work meeting.

To be honest, though years had passed, Zhou Tingzhi hadn’t changed much in appearance. He had bulked up, but his features remained sharp—no sagging, no weight gain. He had simply shed the youthful air of his twenties and gained the steady authority of someone used to power.

“Like this?”

“Yes, yes! My God, Uncle Zhou, you’re amazing! How do you move so perfectly in sync with your brain?!”

Li Lequan sat cross-legged on the carpet, mouth agape in awe.

Tao Xin totally understood. The first time she saw Zhou Tingzhi play, she had the same thought—How can someone function like a computer? Just input commands and boom, flawless execution.

Still, this was a co-op game. It needed teamwork to get a high score. Zhou Nian and Li Lequan were used to playing together, so switching partners threw them off. They kept making mistakes. Every failure meant restarting, and Zhou Nian, being a prideful perfectionist, was visibly frustrated.

Zhou Tingzhi noticed and said calmly, “It’s okay, no need to restart. I recorded the game—we’ll review the footage after this round.”

Zhou Nian nodded, a determined look on his face as if to say, Do or die, I’m beating this level.

While Zhou Nian and Li Lequan huddled by the screen reviewing their replay, Zhou Tingzhi turned to Tao Xin, who was sprawled across the sofa. “Bored?”

“Not at all.” Tao Xin wiggled her toes and popped a grape in her mouth. She held another one up and asked, “Want one?”

Zhou Tingzhi glanced at the two boys deep in discussion, then leaned in and ate the grape straight from her hand. He quickly turned his head away like nothing had happened.

Tao Xin retracted her slightly wet finger, suddenly feeling bashful—like she’d just fooled around under someone’s nose.

Oof… kind of thrilling.

“Whose phone keeps ringing?”

“Tao Xin, it’s yours.”

Snapping back to the present, Tao Xin get her phone from under a pillow and answered the video call. A gruff male voice came through: “Miss Tao, good evening. How’s everything today?”

She answered cheerfully, “Well-fed, well-rested, and in a great mood.”

The man chuckled. “Hope I’m not interrupting. Xiao Man tagged you in the group chat but you didn’t reply.”

The caller was her personal security officer, assigned to protect her from physical threats. Knowing he was just doing his job, Tao Xin flipped the camera to show the backs of the three men.

Zhou Tingzhi was a respected figure; the officer wasn’t concerned about him doing anything untoward. Satisfied, he hung up.

Tao Xin then opened the 2020 Assist Tao Xin Task Force group chat. Even after work hours, the members were quite active.

[Security Officer Zhao]: Miss Tao is on video. All is well.

[Observer Xiao Man]: What’s she doing?

[Security Officer Zhao]: Playing games with three handsome guys in a mansion.

[Observer Xiao Man]: [smirking emoji] [smirking emoji] [smirking emoji]

[Tao Xin]: ?

[Tao Xin]: Correction: I’m watching my boyfriend bond with his eighteen-year-old son and his son’s classmate over video games.

[Recorder Panpan]: Is the son hard to deal with?

[Tao Xin]: Yep. But if I treat him like an eight-year-old, it’s manageable.

[Team Leader Chen Ping]: Don’t blur age lines. Keep a clear perspective.

[Tao Xin]: I know. I’m officially the pretty and young stepmom.

[Chen Ping]: [thumbs up emoji]

[Xiao Man]: [thumbs up emoji]

Tao Xin smiled. She knew the staff chatted like this because they were worried about her. In 2020, she had no real friends, and they didn’t want her bottling up emotions. It may have been part of their job—but to

Tao Xin, these strangers made her feel genuinely cared for in this unfamiliar era. She deeply appreciated it.

After some more idle chatter in the group, she turned around and noticed that the three of them had already advanced to two stars in the game. Although there was still a gap before reaching three stars, Zhou Nian

—who had been downcast—finally showed a trace of happiness on his face. No wonder Zhou Tingzhi said he was easy to cheer up; just playing a game for a while had already made him forget about his stepmother.

A little later, Li Lequan received a call from home. For some reason, his family insisted he return immediately. When they heard he was at Zhou Nian’s house, they said they’d send someone to pick him up—and also deliver the gifts they’d brought back from abroad for Zhou Nian. What might seem like a calculated show of courtesy to others was routine for the Li family. Even Zhou Nian had long gotten used to it.

Not long after, a car pulled up at the entrance of the courtyard. Li Lequan glanced out the living room’s French windows and recognized it immediately—it was his uncle’s car. He quickly put on his shoes and said goodbye to Zhou Tingzhi and Zhou Nian.

Since the visitor brought gifts, Zhou Tingzhi, being the elder, naturally felt it appropriate to give Li Lequan something in return. He also put on his shoes and followed him out.

Tao Xin had been lazily curled up on the sofa, but when she saw the person stepping out of the car, she abruptly sat upright.

Was she seeing things?

Li Chong?! Li Lequan’s uncle was Li Chong?!