小說愛好者

"I object," Chen Jiande stood up. "I'm just a father who wanted his family to sit together." "This is a sentencing factor, not a defense," the judge said. "Call the witness." Xiao Kui stepped forward. "Were you asked to lie?" Xiao Kui looked at her father. The glance lasted about two seconds, but to Chen Jiande, it felt like a high-speed train that didn't stop at any station. "Yes," she said. "What were you thinking at the time?" "...I thought my dad was embarrassing." She paused. "But I also knew he had a lot of money to pay this month." Chen Jiande suddenly wanted to look out the window, but a whale was swimming outside. "You may step down, witness." The judge turned to the other side. "Defendant, do you plead guilty?" Dou Dou, at this moment, opened his fourth bag of instant noodles and took a very crisp bite. The entire courtroom was silent. "...Guilty." (To be continued)

The three braised eggs in the pot suddenly jumped up, lined up, and started singing. The lyrics were: "Too long, too long, life is just an egg braised too long." Xiao Kui diligently wrote it down. "Then what will I exchange it for?" Chen Jiande asked. The fairy looked at him and suddenly stopped smiling. "With the truth you're about to tell." Chapter 4: Car 7: The Fairy Court, Defendant: Dad Car 7 was the business class. This made Chen Jiande very happy—until he discovered that behind the three velour seats sat three fairy judges. They were very small, perched on the tray tables behind the seats where passengers would place their tea cups, each wearing a pair of oversized reading glasses. The one in the middle tapped a gavel, which was a disposable wooden chopstick. "Court is in session," she said. "Defendant, Chen Jiande." The air in the entire car turned blue. "Charge: For the sake of saving NT$40, you incited your minor children to misrepresent their height when purchasing tickets." (To be continued)

Chapter 3: Car 5: The Bento Alchemist and His Three Braised Eggs The smell from the fifth car made all three of them groan with hunger. It wasn't just any bento smell. It was the scent of pork cutlet, braised eggs, pickled mustard greens, and slightly sweet rice, forming an invisible queue in the air and marching right into your nose. In the center of the car sat an elf. He was very short, wearing a chef's hat folded from newspaper, and his magic wand was a highlighter. In front of him sat a small pot, where three braised eggs were slowly rotating, flashing golden light when a certain side faced up. "Welcome to our train's dining service," the elf said, his voice like a jingle. "Every bento on this train has undergone alchemical treatment." "How much?" Chen Jiande asked. "Free," the elf smiled. "But you need to exchange something you truly cherish." "I have a stamp card, collect eight stamps and you can—" "That doesn't count." The elf tapped the side of the pot with his highlighter. "You don't cherish it. You cherish something else." Chen Jiande thought for a moment. "...Face?" "Correct." The elf nodded. "But this train doesn't accept face. It's too light to fit in the pot." (To be continued)

"But it grows on trees." "If it grows on trees, you definitely can't eat it." Suddenly, a row of lights appeared deep in the forest. It was a vending machine, but it had no coin slot, only a smiling LCD screen. "Welcome," the machine said. "Put in ten dollars, and I'll give you a prophecy." Chen Jiande took out a ten-dollar coin. He had a natural affinity for the number 'ten'. The machine made a 'clunk' sound and dropped a slip of paper: Today, you will have a stomachache. And, your son has six packs of instant noodles in his backpack, but you'll only find three. Chen Jiande whipped his head around. Doudou clamped his mouth shut tight, his cheeks puffed out like two meatballs. "...Doudou." "I was going to eat them myself." "That's your own stomach." Xiao Kui, flipping through a notebook beside him, said coldly, "Dad, this machine is more honest than you." (To be continued)

It's a bit like 'Offering Salt to the Ancestor Master'. Highly recommended. It doesn't have many chapters, but everything is explained thoroughly. The plot progresses quickly and smoothly.

Chapter 2: Carriage 3: The Forest Where Snacks Rain Down The doors were two giant clam shells, and they smelled of coconut oil when they opened. There were no seats in Carriage 3. It was a forest. The tree trunks were deep brown, feeling like warm chocolate; the leaves were translucent mint leaves that rustled when the wind blew. And the things growing on those trees— "Dad," Dou Dou's voice trembled, the most excited kind of tremble in his life. "The trees… they're growing instant noodles." Bag after bag hung from the branches: Koala's March, O'Rice, Pocky, Calbee snacks, all suspended by thin threads of sugar, like ornaments on a Christmas tree. A gentle breeze blew, and a bag of O'Rice fell right onto Dou Dou's head. "This doesn't make sense," Xiao Kui said. She had already pulled out her notebook and was writing, "Fantasy Economics 101: Unknown Origin." "Let's eat first," Dou Dou said. "No," Chen Jiande grabbed his son's wrist, speaking in a very fatherly tone. "You can't eat things of unknown origin." "But they grew on trees." "If they grew on trees, you definitely can't eat them." (To be continued)

The floor turned into water. Not wet, but literally water. The platform's concrete dissolved like powdered sugar, turning into a mirror-like shallow pool underfoot, reflecting a sky the color of pearl milk tea. The crowd vanished, leaving only the three of them, and a giant, faintly glowing fishbone-shaped train. Dou Dou mumbled, chewing on his instant noodles, "Dad, where's our train?" "...This must be a new paint job for the high-speed rail." (To be continued)

"The most honest train?" Xiao Kui frowned. "Would the high-speed rail say that?" "Maybe... it's a new marketing slogan," Chen Jiande said. He actually found it strange too, but his credit card bill this month was more bothersome than any slogan. The train arrived. The wind came first, like someone taking a deep breath from the tunnel. Then the train's head appeared—white, streamlined, as quiet as a peeled radish. Except, the orange line on its body was particularly orange today, almost glowing. "Beep." The gate sensor activated. Chen Jiande went through first. "Beep." Xiao Kui went through. The sensor paused for half a second, and then a line of text appeared on the screen: Detected: 152cm. Detected: Claimed under 150cm. Lie confirmed. Then, the mechanical voice suddenly became very polite, even cheerful: "Hello, passenger. The Honest Express is now open for you. We wish you a journey—" it paused, "—filled with happiness." (To be continued)

A Father, Two Children, and a High-Speed Rail Fantasy Journey That Lasts Only Twelve Minutes Chapter 1: Hide the Tickets Well, Dad Said Taipei Main Station's B1 always carries a scent mixed with coffee and disinfectant. The fluorescent lights overhead are as white as a dentist's office, the arrows on the signs are dense, and the crowd slides down like red beans poured into a funnel, quiet yet hurried. Chen Jiande stood before the ticket gate, fanning out the three tickets like a poker hand, then stacking them back and tucking them into the innermost pocket of his jacket, a pocket even his wife didn't know about. "Dad, your expression looks like you're smuggling drugs," said Chen Xiaokui. She was eleven years and eleven months old, 152 centimeters tall, carrying a backpack heavier than she was, filled with three fantasy novels and a ballpoint pen that had run out of ink. "This is called precise calculation," Chen Jiande said, lowering his voice. "Child tickets are half price, the standard is under 150 centimeters. You—" "I'm 152." "You're wearing flats today." He straightened his younger son's backpack. "Doudou, what are you responsible for?" "Eating." Chen Doudou, eight years old, had six packs of instant noodles, two bottles of Yakult, and a crumpled point-collection card in his backpack. He thought for a moment, then added, "And watching my sister get scolded." "Excellent, clear division of labor in the team." Chen Jiande clapped his hands. "Let's go." On the platform, a line of people stood behind the yellow line. The text on the electronic signboard scrolled, then suddenly stopped: The 888th Trip To Zuoying 09:21 This train is the most honest train of the day (To be continued)