Rebirth Of Chen An

Chapter 202: Side Story： When He Was Still Chen Chang'an (III)

Translator: Flying Lines

When he was little Ivan, the man was still Chen Chang’an.

Ivanov has a large extended family. When he was little, his family belonged to a side branch of the family tree, with some money and power, and a fair distance from the center where everything truly important happened, yet not marginalized enough to truly lose sight of the family wealth.

The turning point came when the former mighty nation, the Soviet Union collapsed; and his part of the family became the most powerful among all members.

In little Ivan’s memory, his father drank vodka for an entire day and night, after letting out a sigh in front of the television. The bills they had became worthless. Prices skyrocketed. And his mother had feared that they’d lose his father.

Fortunately, his father was quite all-right, apart from mild symtoms of intoxication.

Beliefs, which had stood in his father’s mind like solid walls, now came crashing down. The choice was left to him, and others like him, whether to bury themselves in the sand, or to pull themselves up by the bootstraps.

For some time after that, there were more people coming and going in their house. For little Ivan, these people looked very much alike and thus he remembered none in particular. The only thing he could remember was that after a few months without chocolates and other snacks, he again had them. And his parents smiled more.

Thus the days went. Until one day, two men, with appearances totally different from them, came to the house. It was the first time little Ivan met Chen Chang’an, the man with a beautiful smile. He walked to little Ivan, crouched down and mussed his hair saying with a smile: “little Ivan, you are a pretty little boy.”

Then this man who dared to touch his head turned and said to the other man: “come here and look at this boy, Changle. Isn’t he pretty? Golden hair, blue eyes, he’s like a pretty little doll.”

Little Ivan didn’t understand what the man said since he spoke in another language, but the man had a nice voice, and he was good-looking too.

Well, he liked how the man looked.

After that, little Ivan saw the man named Chen Chang’an often. He also came to know that the language he spoke was called Chinese.

And for that, little Ivan told his father he wanted to learn Chinese. His father was glad for the ambition Ivan showed for a boy of his age, and soon arranged a tutor to teach him.

“Chen Chang’an.” With a toy in his arms and a QR15 automatic rifle in one hand, little Ivan walked to the man and called his name in a language he’d just learned.

Chen Chang’an was apparently surprised that the kid could say his name. Again he turned and called his brother: “Changle, come and look. The boy just said my name, and in Chinese too!”

Little Ivan was only beginning to get to know the language and could not understand what Chen Chang’an just said. Still, he could feel the man liked it, so he called him again.

“Chen Chang’an.” He said slowly, getting every syllable right, which really surprised Chen Chang’an.

“You like me, right?” Bending down, Chen Chang’an gently pinched little Ivan’s cheek. Kids in Eastern Europe had such nice features that made them look like angels; when one saw them, one couldn’t help but marvel at the wonders of the creator.

Holding the kid who had a dangerous weapon in his hand close, Chen Chang’an took a piece of black chocolate from his pocket and waved it in front of little Ivan: “do you want it?”