My Ungrateful Son Begged for Forgiveness After I Cut Him Off

"When I was young, I worked at a tea company for more than ten years. Visited quite a few producing regions. I wouldn't say I really understand it—just some surface-level knowledge."

He spoke unhurriedly, yet somehow came across more confident than all the bosses at the table who loved talking big.

"Oh? Is that so?"

A man who claimed to be some bureau leader perked up with interest. "Then tell us—what's not authentic about this tea?"

Alex didn't refuse.

In just a few sentences, he broke it down—the liquor's color, aroma, taste. His logic was clear, his terminology professional.

The leader nodded along as he listened. "Makes sense. Looks like this hotel's kind of fooling people."

The way he looked at Alex carried noticeably more respect.

Junior was completely stunned. He'd never known his dad could do this.

Someone tossed the topic to me. "Auntie, what kind of work do you do? Before retirement, were you a worker too?"

I glanced at Junior.

He stared at me nervously, terrified I'd say something embarrassing.

I smiled. "Me? I don't have a formal job. Just stay home and take care of the two of them. Cook, wash clothes."

Junior visibly relaxed. There was even a trace of "just as I thought" contempt on his face.

Vivian's mom's smile deepened. "Homemakers are great too—raising such an outstanding child."

Junior immediately straightened his chest.

But I continued. "If I'm idle, I'm idle, so I like to mess around and figure things out. A few years ago I followed a community teacher and learned a bit about financial management. Took a little money and tried my hand at it—my luck was pretty good."

"Financial management?"

Vivian's mom's smile faded a bit, her eyes full of disbelief. "Auntie, you even play with that? Stocks are risky—you have to be careful."

"I don't do stocks." I waved my hand and chuckled. "I just buy some funds, invest in companies I like. Like MicroTech Technology. Three years ago I felt its new tech had potential, so I put in a fixed amount every month."

"MicroTech Technology?"

That leader from earlier sat up straight. "That's a huge winner—it's gone up almost tenfold!"

Vivian's mom's expression stiffened.

Her family did business, but she didn't understand the financial market at all.

Junior was completely dumbfounded, looking at me like he'd seen a ghost.

"Luck. It was all luck." I said modestly, then as if something had just occurred to me, turned to Alex. "Oh right, old man—the retirement place we reserved at Clearwater Bay, the sales rep just messaged saying we can handle the paperwork next week."

"Clearwater Bay?"

Someone at the table cried out in surprise. "That lakeside villa community? Even the smallest unit starts at five million, right?"

Alex nodded. "Yueran likes how quiet it is there. We reserved an end unit with a small yard—she wants to plant some flowers."

The private room went dead silent.

Junior's face had already gone from flushed red to deathly pale. He looked at me, then at his dad, his lips trembling, unable to say a single word.

Vivian—the one he'd been thinking about nonstop—looked at us directly for the first time, her eyes full of curiosity and scrutiny.

I picked up my teacup and, copying Alex, took a small sip. Sure enough, it wasn't as good as the one at home.

For the rest of the reunion, the atmosphere turned strange.

People kept coming over, trying to talk to us. They asked about financial management tips, or for details about Clearwater Bay. Alex and I handled it appropriately—neither going into depth nor letting things go cold.

Junior sat there like a wooden dummy. Not a single sentence of the "independent, self-made" speech he'd carefully prepared could come out.

The gathering finally broke up.

Junior was almost fleeing as he became the first to rush out of the private room, not even saying goodbye to his classmates.