"Dian-Dian! I'm here— Oh! What was that smell!?"
Fourteen year old Wei Sizhi entered the tiny house of the Rens. He heard Mr. Ren Meisheng, Ren Jidian's father, singing. Mr. Ren had a very nice voice, and he constantly got complimented for it. But out of all the jobs and gigs he took just to get by, he never tried to be a singer.
Wei Sizhi followed his voice to the kitchen.
Mr. Ren was cooking some tanghulu, possibly to sell on the streets for some money or have Ren Jidian sell it himself. He had caramelized hawthorn berries and set them to dry.
But the smell wasn't from the berries at all….
He knew it was coming from upstairs.
"Good morning, Mr. Ren." Wei Sizhi greeted him. "Is Ren Jidian home? Is there something wrong with him?"
Mr. Ren barely looked up from his cooking. "He's having his first heat."
