Working is, of course, for the sake of shaking hands.

In October, autumn has not yet arrived in Tamsui.

Xia Mo sat at her desk with her math workbook open in front of her, her pen resting on her ear, but her eyes were not on the questions.

He was doing the math—round-trip airfare from Taipei to Tokyo (reimbursed by his father), food and lodging in Tokyo (staying at his father's house), and tickets to the handshake event (he might need to buy a few CDs to get more opportunities to hold hands).

He hadn't checked the exact figures, but he knew it wouldn't be an amount a first-year junior high student could save from their allowance.

My mother teaches art at an elementary school in Taipei. After deducting rent and daily expenses from her monthly salary, she can't save much.

She never complained about money in front of him, but Xia Mo noticed that she hadn't bought any new clothes in a long time. The few pieces of clothing in her closet had been worn repeatedly, and the cuffs were even starting to fade from washing.

He didn't want to make her work even harder because of him.

On a weekend morning, Grandma was cooking porridge in the kitchen. The lid of the pot bounced slightly from the steam, and the aroma of rice and preserved eggs wafted out from the kitchen doorway.

As summer drew to a close, I walked to the kitchen doorway, leaned against the doorframe, and watched my grandmother pour the chopped preserved eggs into the pot and slowly stir them with a wooden spoon.

"Grandma." After much deliberation, Xia Mo finally spoke.

"Hmm?" Grandma didn't turn around and continued stirring the pot of porridge.

Xia Mo took a deep breath. "I want to work this weekend."

Grandma paused for a moment. The spoon hovered in mid-air, and the porridge slipped off the edge of the spoon, dripping back into the pot with a soft "plop".

She turned to look at Xia Mo, her eyes widening slightly, her brows furrowing. She placed the spoon on the side of the pot and wiped her hands.

"What kind of work are you doing? How old are you? You're already working in the first year of junior high?"

"I can do anything, like serving dishes or handing out flyers," Xia Mo said.

Grandma's brows furrowed even more. She walked over, reached out and touched Xia Mo's forehead, then touched her own, as if to check if he had a fever.

"Are you short of pocket money?" Grandma's tone was full of concern. "Grandma has some more here, wait a moment—"

She turned to walk towards her room. Xia Mo stepped aside, blocking her way.

"Grandma, it's not that I'm short of pocket money."

"Then what kind of work are you doing?" Grandma stopped, looked up at him, and her tone became urgent. "You're only thirteen years old. What kind of work are you doing? Studying is what you should be doing. Your mother works so hard to support your education, and you're going to be a waiter. What will your mother think if she finds out?"

"I'll talk to Mom. She knows she won't object," Xia Mo said.

"Why not?" Grandma wouldn't listen to Xia Mo's nonsense.

"From childhood to adulthood, when has your mother ever given you any trouble? Have you ever lacked anything in terms of food or clothing? Now that you're going to work as a waiter, people will think our family can't afford to support you anymore! If you really need pocket money, Grandma will give you some—"

"Grandma, I didn't go to work because I was short of pocket money." Xia Mo's voice wasn't loud, but it was very serious. "I want to save money so I can go back to Tokyo later."

Grandma paused for a moment. "Back to Tokyo?"

"Asuka and Hana have chosen idols, and there will be handshake events for them. I want to go see them."

Grandma opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked at Xia Mo's face, at his quiet, unwavering eyes.

All those words that were on the tip of their tongues—"Going to Tokyo is too tiring," "You're still too young," "We're worried about you going alone"—stuck in their throats.

She had seen that look before. Many years ago, when her mother stood at the door of their house at the end of summer and said, "I'm going to Japan," her eyes also held that same light.

"Just to see them?" Grandma's voice softened.

"Yes," Xia Mo said. "I promised them I would go after I debuted."

Grandma remained silent for a long time. She turned around, walked back to the stove, picked up a spoon, and continued stirring the porridge. The porridge was still bubbling, gurgling, as if something was being suppressed and cooked at the bottom of the pot.

After a while, she turned off the stove, wiped her hands, picked up her phone, and opened her contacts.

"Grandma, who are you calling?" Xia Mo asked.

"Uncle Lin." Grandma had already dialed the phone.

"Hey, Uncle Lin, it's me... Isn't your son Zhihong the one who owns a restaurant? Yes, yes, the one over in Tamsui Old Street... I wanted to ask if he needs any help?... It's not me who wants to go, it's my grandson. He wants to save some money to go to Japan to visit friends this summer... Okay, okay, please ask him for me... Thank you."

After hanging up the phone, Grandma leaned back in her chair and tapped her fingers lightly on the phone case twice.

"Grandma," Xia Mo said, looking at her.

"Don't say anything, let's wait for news." Grandma put her phone on the coffee table, picked up the bowl of porridge that had gone cold, took a sip, and said, "The porridge is cold, you can serve yourself."

Two days later, Uncle Lin called.

"Zhihong said to let him give it a try," Uncle Lin said on the other end of the phone. "My son's restaurant is called 'Corner Eatery,' and it's right next to Tamsui Old Street. I'll go there on Saturday afternoon and let him take a look."

On Saturday afternoon, Grandma accompanied Xia Mo to Tamsui Old Street. The restaurant was small, with a wooden signboard hanging on an iron frame, several pots of basil planted at the entrance, and orange lights shining through the glass windows.

Grandma stood at the door, looked inside several times, then glanced at the alley entrance to make sure the streetlights were bright enough and the road was wide enough before pushing Xia Mo inside.

The boss's name is Lin Zhihong, Lin Bo's son. He is in his early thirties, wears round-framed glasses, and has sauce stains on his apron. He smiles exactly like Lin Bo.

He saw his grandmother, nodded politely, and then looked Xia Mo up and down behind her.

"Is it you?" Lin Zhihong asked.

Xia Mo nodded.

Lin Zhihong looked at his student ID, then at his face, and frowned slightly.

"First year of junior high? Only thirteen?" Lin Zhihong handed the student ID back. "No, no, too young. If we get caught, my shop will be fined. You don't know, last time there was a specialty shop in Tamsui Old Street that hired a third-year junior high girl. She worked until 9 pm and got caught, fined over 10,000 NT dollars, and even got a suspended prosecution. I can't take that risk. Come back when you're sixteen, then you won't have to be afraid."

Xia Mo opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but seeing Lin Zhihong's determined and uncompromising expression, she swallowed her words back.

He glanced at his grandmother.

Grandma was pursing her lips, her white eyebrows furrowed together, but after glancing at Xia Mo and then at Lin Zhihong, she knew that such things couldn't be forced and sighed.

Xia Mo didn't leave immediately. His gaze swept around the shop—wooden tables and chairs, warm yellow lighting, and a small blackboard on the wall displaying today's specials.

Then his gaze fell on an upright piano in the corner, its black body covered with a thin layer of dust, and several old magazines piled on the lid.

"Boss Lin," Xia Mo carefully pointed to the piano, "is that piano usable?"

Lin Zhihong followed his finger and looked over, then paused for a moment. "That was left behind by the previous owner. He couldn't move it, so it's just been sitting there. Nobody plays it; it's just for decoration."

"I can play," Xia Mo said. "I can work as a pianist in the shop instead of being a waitress."

Lin Zhihong glanced at him, his lips twitched, it was unclear whether he wanted to laugh or say something.

"Playing the piano? You think playing the piano means you won't be considered child labor? It's the same thing. If you're not old enough, you're not old enough. It's not about what you do, it's about your age. Does the labor bureau care if you're a waiter or a pianist? It's all the same."

Xia Mo fell silent. He knew Lin Zhihong was telling the truth; age was a hurdle that couldn't be overcome simply by changing jobs.

"Let's go." Grandma tugged at his sleeve, her voice tinged with helplessness. "We'll talk about it when we get back."

There was nothing else Xia Mo could do but follow her grandmother outside.

As they reached the door, a girl with a low ponytail pushed the door open and blocked Xia Mo and her grandmother's way.

She was wearing the dark blue uniform of Tamkang High School, holding a book in her hand, as if she were reading as she walked. Seeing her path blocked, she looked up, her gaze landing on Xia Mo, and paused for a moment.

"Junior? What are you doing here?"

Xia Mo paused for a moment. He recognized her—Chen Yijun, the senior from Class 2, Grade 3, the one who handed him water on the basketball court last time.

"Hello, senior." Xia Mo nodded to her.

Chen Yijun looked at him, then at his grandmother behind him.

At this time, they probably aren't here to eat.

Looking at Lin Zhihong standing behind the counter, she raised an eyebrow slightly and said with a teasing smile, "You're not here to work, are you?"

Xia Mo hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I want to work here, but I'm not old enough, and the boss won't hire me."

"Oh?" Chen Yijun glanced at Lin Zhihong, said nothing, and first bowed slightly to her grandmother, "Hello, Grandma."

Grandma nodded and looked her up and down.

Chen Yijun then turned to Xia Mo, and was about to speak when Lin Zhihong came out from behind the counter, carrying two glasses of water. His tone was much gentler than when he spoke to Xia Mo earlier.

"Yi-jun, why are you here today? Didn't you say you'd be later?"

"Dad, I was just passing by and came in to take a look." Chen Yijun took the water glass and took a sip.

Xia Mo stood still, his steps faltering. Dad? He looked at Lin Zhihong, then at Chen Yijun.

The two do share some resemblance in their eyes and brows, but their surnames are different—Chen Yijun's surname is Chen, and Lin Zhihong's surname is Lin.

Chen Yijun probably sensed his confusion and explained calmly, "Don't misunderstand, I take my mother's surname."

"Oh." Xia Mo didn't ask any more questions and looked away. He walked towards his grandmother and said softly, "Grandma, let's go."

He was about to take a step when he heard Chen Yijun's voice behind him.

"Wait a moment."

Xia Mo stopped and turned to look at her senior with an inquiring gaze.

Chen Yijun stood there, her eyes darting around, a slow smile curving her lips. She placed the water glass on the counter, tugged at Lin Zhihong's sleeve, and leaned closer to whisper a few words.

The voice wasn't loud; Xia Mo only caught fragments of phrases like "first-year high school student," "excellent grades (?)," "can play the piano," and "from Japan," but couldn't make out the specifics.

Lin Zhihong's expression slowly changed from "What are you talking about?" to "Are you sure?", and finally he glanced at Xia Mo, frowned again, and shook his head hesitantly.

Chen Yijun leaned closer and said a few more words, this time in an even lower voice, so low that Xia Mo couldn't hear a word. All Xia Mo saw was Lin Zhihong's expression relax slightly; he glanced at Xia Mo again and sighed.

Chen Yijun turned her head and winked at Xia Mo.

"Junior, wait a minute."

She pulled Lin Zhihong into the kitchen. The curtain fell behind them, swaying a few times before stopping.