“Son, have you ever heard of Colonel Aureliano Buendía?”
My father suddenly asked me a baffling question one day at dusk when I was twelve years old.
“Aureliano Bu… something… di?”
I used a great deal of effort to try and pronounce the words that were as awkward to pronounce as ‘Castilla’ while feeling at a loss.
“Aureliano Buendía.”
My father corrected my pronunciation and patted my shoulder.
He stood basking under the setting sun while looking up at the sky and said with a hint of melancholy:
“He’s my idol.”
“He’s a revolutionary who started thirty-two revolutions in his lifetime.”
“He was only a Colonel, but he was the leader in the people’s hearts.”
“Even though he lost the wars he led, but the enemies he fought all respected him and referred to him as a hero.”
At this point, my father looked at me profoundly:
“Son, do you know why I worship him?”
The childish me thought with logic commonly used in fairy tales and responded seriously:
“Is it because you want to become a hero like Colonel Aureliano Buendía?”
“No!”
My father spat and revealed his usual sloppy expression and looked at me with resent for failing to meet his expectations:
“Who filled your head with these pedantic ideals? Your stepmother? Your sister? Or that little girl Margaret?”
He repeatedly patted my head, then spat out the toothpick and bits of meat stuck between his teeth.
“Listen closely, the only reason your old man is telling you this is because: the stuff I said earlier isn’t even fucking important! Only a fool wants to become a person like that!”
Then, my father hocked a loogie and stamped it into the sand under his foot with his boots.
“Do you know why your father worships him?”
This time I shook my head obediently and didn’t voice the superficial understanding I had in my mind.
“Listen closely.”
My father forcefully changed the direction of my head to face him.
“The beast called Aureliano Buendía tricked his next door loli to be his wife when he was twenty-something years old. Then he also had the loli give birth to a set of twins.”
“Then, during the periods of war, he found seventeen mistresses and gave birth to thirty-six bastard children.”
“The most frustrating part: At New Year’s, he brought his seventeen mistresses and their children to his home to celebrate! All the mistresses and his children were in peace and harmony, celebrating the holiday together! He wasn’t even macheted after having an open and brazen harem! I can’t stand it!”
“This is the part your old man worships! Do you understand? My foolish son!”
My father gripped my scalp and jerked it back and forth while looking at me with yearning.
“Spread your seed across the world! Spread your seed across the world! In order to become the harem king and pass your ancestors genetics across the world, THAT is a man’s romance!”
My father clenched his fists and seemed to have a sort of yearning look in his eyes.
He once again looked at me:
“Foolish son, do you know what you have to do now?”
I thought carefully and responded earnestly:
“I have to learn from Colonel Aureliano Buendía… and become a harem king when I grow up!”
“It seems you can still be taught, no wonder you’re the son of Lin Deng Wan!” My father stroked my head with satisfaction and spoke patiently, “But that goal might be aiming too far… why don’t you think about what you should do now?”
To be honest, I had no idea what ‘harems’ or ‘mistresses’ even meant at the time. I also had no idea what it meant to ‘start a harem’. I only instinctively felt happy because of my father’s praise.
Thus, I pondered seriously for a moment and formed a sentence with the words my father always kept spouting and said firmly:
“I have to knock up Margaret!”
This was the answer I felt my father was expecting to hear at the time.
Since he often mentioned he wanted to ‘knock somebody up’ or something. At the time, I probably thought it was a synonym for the word ‘mistress’.
Margaret was my childhood friend. She was one of two same-age people of the opposite sex.
As for the other one, uh… it was my younger sister, we had the same father but a different mother. The reason I didn’t say my sister instead of Margaret was not because I had a strong understanding of ethics and morals, but because I simply hated her.
Perhaps you might ask why I would hate my own sister. Of course, there are reasons.
To be honest, my sister inherited my step-mother’s first-rate genes. Light purple hair, fair-white skin, violet eyes, other than her regretfully flat chest… she would be considered a beauty regardless if it was now or when we were kids.
My beautiful sister might even be something a lot of people yearn for even in their dreams.
It was a pity that although my sister inherited my stepmother’s genetics, she was completely the opposite of my gentle and virtuous stepmother.
It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say… she is a violent maniac! A maniac with the face and heart of the devil!
Before I was thirteen, I couldn’t beat my sister in a fight, so she always bullied me… it’s accurate to say I was beaten unilaterally by this female demon to the extent to which I began to fear all feminine life forms… yes, including my stepmother’s cat.
“Useless older brother, have you ever seen a small fist the size of a sandbag?”
Every time I dream of my younger sister when she was a little girl clutching my collar and pound my chest with her ‘small fist’, I would awake screaming from the nightmare.
Mommy, it’s too scary! It’s a shadow of my childhood!
If I never met the kind Margaret… I felt I might have been in fear of women for my whole life.
Speaking of Margaret… she’s basically my guardian angel. Although there’s hardly any age difference between us, she feels like an older sister. She would always be gentle and tolerant and would always take care of me. Her voice was also soft, and she would always have a faint smile on her face. Her smile was as radiant as her long blond hair.
I’m not sure why, but when we were young, Margaret’s father would always leave her at my house.
Truthfully, my house was always empty. It was boring, but Margaret found her own joy —— taking care of me.
As a result, she would always be carrying around cookbooks and a few thick books as a step stool while hustling around in the kitchen, making bizarre and fantastic dishes for me.
I have to mention, Margaret is extremely gifted in the culinary arts. Other than a few times where she was slightly off in the ratio of spices, everything she made afterward was delicious. To be more accurate, it became more and more delicious, and with more variety. Other than a few dishes where I expressed my fondness, the dishes were never repeated.
It wasn’t only cooking. Margaret excelled at both housework and taking care of others. To the extent I would sometimes dream I could lie on my bed all day and let Margaret do everything for me. Based on Margaret’s personality… I could probably still live a beautiful life as a handicapped person.
Other than cooking, Margaret had another hobby —— helping me knit scarves, sweaters, and various other clothing. Of course, she would also occasionally make clothing for my father, stepmother, and sister, but most of it was for me. Sometimes, Margaret would make a couple of extremely small clothes none of us could wear.
When I ask her who it’s for, she would lower her head, blush a little and say: it was for her future child. Her dream is to be a good mother.
That’s why at the time I thought ‘I have to knock up Margaret!’ would be the perfect answer.
Since Margaret loves children, then I would let her give birth to children. Just like Colonel Aureliano’s mistresses, I want to make Margaret my ‘mistress’!
“Puh—— “
My father suddenly stumbled forward when he heard my answer. He looked me up and down in astonishment and said: “Nice, the first thing you want to do is attack the daughter of the Prince of Wales! Ambitious!”
He stuck up his thumb at me and continued to speak:
“But… we have a saying in the East… it’s ‘A journey of a thousand miles, begins with a single step’. ” My father coughed and pointed at his temple with his index finger, “That’s why son, it doesn’t matter who you want to knock up, that’s for the future. Currently, you have to make some early preparations… understand?”
“Early preparations?”
I repeated my father’s words with confusion.
“What I was talking about before…”
So I thought hard about it.
In my memories, my father always likes to say to my stepmother that ‘position equals power’, ‘practice makes perfect’, ‘you can grind a steel bar into a needle’, or something like that. Then, the two of them would mysteriously hide in their bedroom saying they’re going to ‘create a person’.
Based on the previous context, I’m guessing ‘create a person’ means the same as ‘knock up’? At least that’s what I thought at the time.
I continued to infer that ‘create a person’ was something you would learn after accumulating more knowledge and experience, it’s not something you can grasp quickly.
So before Margaret can become a mother, do I have to learn a lot of positions?
Then who should I find to help me train how to create a person?
I began the think about the few women I know.
If Margaret is for the future, then I don’t even need to think about the stepmother… then the only person left is my violent younger sister.
Um… even though she has a bad personality and her chest is flat, but in order to make Margaret’s dream come true, I’ll reluctantly experiment on her body!
At this point in time, I reacted instantly and said to my father:
“I understand. Before I make Margaret my mistress, I’ll knock up my sister!”
“Yes, that’s right… no, wait, what the hell are you saying?”
My father first had a look of praise, but then he widened his eyes.
He struck my head with his fist hard.
“You want to knock up your sister? Are you tired of living?”
“Didn’t you say we have to make preparations? I wanted to practice on my sister first…”
I tried to justify myself.
“Don’t say anymore!”
Father glared at me and ruthlessly gave me another karate chop.
“Never say that again! If your stepmom heard, she’ll kill me! Do you understand?”
Father threatened me and continued to mutter to himself:
“Damn, if it came true, how would I deal with you? After all, you are my son… at most I could do is break your legs and apologize to your stepmom… then I would have to go to Germany to find an orthopedic doctor to heal your legs, what a pain…”
When he finished speaking, he looked at me and used the back of his hand to slap my chest and say:
“Kid, listen closely. If you want to be a harem king, you have to learn how to hit! Then you have to be able to take a hit!”
“If you want to achieve that, then you must have a healthy body.”
“Your body is everything. Regardless if you’re leading an army to war or starting a harem!”
“Because only with a strong body, can you achieve a strong force; with a strong force, you can finish all your rivals in love and get the most beautiful women; with beautiful women, you can use your healthy body to make her pregnant with a healthy child, then use your strong force to protect her, keep her away from danger, give her a sense of security.”
“Only then are you qualified to become a harem king!”
“Do you understand? You siscon brat!”
My father said as he pinched my cheeks before he finally let go when I nodded sluggishly. Then he continued to speak:
“Sigh… but those are all minor details. It doesn’t matter if you can fight or if you have a strong body… all that matters is to avoid being macheted…”
My father had a sorrowful look on his face as if he recollected certain unbearable events from the past.
“Dad… what does it mean to be macheted?”
I asked feebly.
“Oh… it looks like I made you confused. I almost forgot I’m the transmigrator and you don’t understand my references.”
As he spoke, my father fumbled around in his pockets before tossing me a book.
“Here.”
I took a look at the book.
“School… Days?”
“Once you read it, you’ll understand what it means to be macheted.”
My father patted my shoulder.
“Before then, you have to raise the level of your ‘positions’…”
Afterwards, I was locked in the castle by my father and trained cruelly for a whole five years.
Five years with no daylight, with no outside world. There was only my sister’s sandbag sized fist, my father’s pot-sized fist, and Margaret’s chicken soup…
Until finally, I was able to send my father flying through three city walls with a single punch.
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