For a little girl, a small parrot was enough to make her happy just by standing on the coffee table, not to mention that he could talk and dance around.
The small parrot dealt with kids at school every day, so handling one more little girl privately was an easy task for him.
So, the little girl clapped her hands, and the small parrot jumped around, explaining to her why other parrots didn't fly much, while he could fly very high.
Xia Sheng, who was nearby, felt a bit awkward. She had never had the opportunity to interact with other kids' mothers before.
Xia Sheng and the little girl's mother sat there, both unsure of what to do. Xia Sheng felt she should do something, or say something, to liven up the atmosphere...
But what to say? This again touched on Xia Sheng's blind spot. Despite being a mother of a four-year-old, the reality was that she was quite different from the adults she had imagined when she was a child.
The world doesn't automatically teach some skills as children transition into adulthood, and not all mothers are good at socializing.
In her own childhood, her mother didn't have this kind of social interaction. Her mother despised other kids' mothers, which could be understood. In their small town, there was great importance placed on having a son or a daughter, especially since their family had a tradition of having daughters—her grandmother never had a son, and many people knew that.
So, every time her mother went out, others would console her, saying having a daughter was also good. This kind of consolation itself was condescending and pitiful, and her mother would often curse, which led to Xia Sheng now avoiding contact with other children's mothers.
And Xia Sheng herself wasn't good at socializing.
She grew up surrounded by rivals, and they were all rivals she had to defeat. Conversations with them usually went like this—
"Aren't you kidding? I can't fight with a girl? If she cries later, you can't say I'm not a gentleman."
"I'll take you on!"
"Damn it, why are you laughing? If you have the guts, come at me yourself!"
As for her? She didn't need to talk; she just fought. She wasn't used to speaking.
Even after entering school, she wasn't in the same world as others, and she was far behind in many other aspects, needing to work hard to catch up with the progress of normal people, leaving no time for making friends.
The little girl's mother beside her didn't seem to be good at socializing either. It was obvious that bringing her daughter over to disturb others took a lot of courage, probably rehearsed at home twice.
Now the two mothers sat on the sofa, and the air between them grew increasingly tense. The more tense it became, the less they knew what to say, so they pretended to watch the children play.
Mr. Kang was driven out of the kitchen by his father, and he was extremely uncomfortable as well. He preferred being alone, had no desire for companionship, and certainly had no interest in befriending a group of children.
What could kids understand?
However, with a father around, there was a downside—you couldn't do everything as you pleased. Whatever Dad wanted you to do, you had to do without refusal.
This was a problem that Mr. Kang had noticed a long time ago. Whenever he stood still, his father could always push him into whatever he wanted. What he would encounter the next second depended entirely on luck—whether it would be a delicious rice ball or an awkward and tense living room.
Mr. Kang walked in the living room, feeling somewhat angry. The air in the room seemed to have solidified, making it difficult to breathe. He felt uncomfortable all over and couldn't help but turn back to look at the kitchen.
Half a year ago, he would never have imagined that one day he would find the kitchen to be the most comfortable place.
But the big guy in the kitchen, his father, gave him a big encouraging look, as if saying, "Go ahead, son, Dad supports you."
Mr. Kang rolled his eyes, turned his head, and looked at the people in the living room.
His violent mother was sitting on the sofa, looking extremely awkward, like sitting on pins and needles. She wanted to say something but couldn't find a topic. She exuded an aura of being a guest at someone else's home.
Mr. Kang was taken aback. It was hard to imagine that this was his violent mother.
Thinking back, it seemed that since arriving at this home, he had never seen his violent mother going out with other kids' mothers. She always seemed to stay at the Art Center or at home, and at the Art Center, his violent mother wouldn't engage in conflicts with others.
In fact, upon further consideration, his violent mother was truly an artist. She wasn't sensitive to money; teaching piano at the Art Center was only a temporary means to make some money.
She was socially insensitive, not caring much about interpersonal relationships. Her main pursuit was piano art.
Mr. Kang pulled his thoughts back, belatedly realizing a bigger question—
So, was he not the only one in this home who couldn't make friends?
In an instant, the air seemed to flow again. The evening sun's afterglow poured in, as warm and cozy as a scene from an old movie.
Mr. Kang relaxed entirely and sat down beside his violent mother.
He and his violent mother were truly kindred spirits! He glanced at the big, silly, and sweet father encouraging him from the kitchen and at the silly, sweet parrot hopping on the coffee table—neither of them could comprehend this feeling.
With the child sitting beside them, the two awkward mothers on the sofa finally had a topic.
"How old is your child? He's quite tall."
"Four years old," Xia Sheng replied.
And the conversation ended again.
Mr. Kang pondered for a moment, stuck his head out, and tried to liven up the atmosphere by engaging in some socializing with the other two socially awkward individuals.
"How old is your child now?" Mr. Kang asked.
The little girl's mother replied, "She's also four years old."
"Such a coincidence."
The conversation ended once again.
The little parrot on the coffee table had started teaching the little girl how to flap her wings, while the three people on the sofa still didn't know what to do or say.
Mr. Kang was fine with the situation because no one knew what to say, and no one had the ability to make friends. They sat quietly, and he didn't feel awkward.
Until—
From the neighboring apartment, where a child was playing the piano, the young mother, who had not spoken before, suddenly said, "Two notes were wrong."
The two people exchanged glances, somewhat surprised.
"You play the piano?" the little girl's mother asked.
"I'm a piano teacher now."
"Wow, you're amazing! I had thought about becoming a piano teacher before, but I don't have much patience! Just teaching my daughter to sing makes me want to collapse."
"I don't have much patience either," Xia Sheng relaxed all at once.
Mr. Kang looked at the previously rigid and seemingly wooden violent mother. As soon as she talked about something she liked, a soft light would emanate from her entire being.
This light also relaxed the little girl's mother instantly.
"To be honest, it's been a long time since I touched the piano."
"I have a piano at home. Would you like to try it?"
"That would be great!"
The two instantly found a common topic and began chatting. As they chatted, they headed to the adjacent study, preparing to play a piece together.
Mr. Kang sat on the sofa, expressionless, turned his head, slid off the sofa, and walked into the kitchen: "Dad―have you finished washing the vegetables?"