"Even if you earn a good salary every month, you can't just spend it like that, Wen. You'll have to find a wife someday, and mom and dad can't give you much help. Don't keep bringing so much stuff home, alright? Save some money."
Listening to my father's slightly reproachful words, I still felt a warm heart, knowing this is what parental love is like, ordinary yet deeply fulfilling.
I opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for each of my parents, "Mom, Dad, try this, it's a fine red wine."
My father took a sip from his glass and frowned, clicking his tongue, "What is this? Why is it so bitter and astringent? Oh boy, I really can't drink this at all."
Seeing my father's reaction brought back memories of my first taste of red wine, not understanding why the wealthy would enjoy something so bitter and unpleasant.
