When Zhao Yuan returned to the courtyard, tables and chairs were already set up both inside and out, and steaming hot dishes were being served. Seeing him, Shen Lijun said, "Where did you run off to? We couldn't find you anywhere, and your phone wasn't picking up. Hurry and wash your hands. We're about to start eating."
"Alright," Zhao Yuan replied with a laugh, and went to the well to draw water to wash his hands.
His father, Zhao Shiquan, sidled over and said with a mock-aggrieved expression, "You little brat. How dare you make me take the fall for you? So unfilial!"
Zhao Yuan laughed. "Dad, you're used to getting chewed out by Mom anyway. What's the big deal about taking the blame for me this one time?"
"Hey, you little punk!" Zhao Shiquan rolled up his sleeves, pretending to be angry and making a move to rough up Zhao Yuan.
The father and son immediately dissolved into a fit of playful wrestling.
The next day, Zhao Yuan woke up early.
