Song Yun’s calm and steady words greatly reassured Song Hao’s panicked heart. Since the incident, he hadn’t felt peace even for a moment—until now. Even though this was their first meeting, there was no unfamiliarity or awkwardness. It felt as if they had been father and daughter for many lifetimes. A natural sense of familiarity and trust bound them. He trusted her words and her medical skills.
After his emotions settled, Song Hao suddenly thought of something and asked anxiously, “How did you two get here? Where’s Zhenzhen?”
At the mention of Song Zhenzhen, Song Ziyi pouted unhappily.
Song Yun said to Ziyi, “Explain things to Dad. I’ll get some water for Mom.”
Song Yun swept her flashlight around the makeshift shack. It was so bare there was truly nothing besides the essentials needed to keep someone barely alive—not even a small stool, let alone something like a thermos. Eventually, she found half a bowl of clear water.
Since her mother couldn’t eat anything now, warm water would be easier to get down.
She quietly took out a low-grade nutritional supplement from her system’s storage. Squeezing out half of the remaining one-third portion, she also spent 100 star coins to exchange for a fever-reducing agent. After reading the instructions, she mixed one-tenth of the medicine into the bowl.
The key to treating pneumonia was reducing inflammation. Fever relief only addressed the symptoms, not the root cause. But relieving the fever would at least make the patient more comfortable.
She found a chipped enamel mug that was deformed but still usable. She mixed the remaining nutrient fluid into some plain porridge, stirred it well, and scooped a full mug to bring to Song Hao.
“Dad, I made this porridge. It’s still hot—please eat a little.”
At this point, Song Hao had already heard from Ziyi about everything that had happened. Knowing that the two kids had arrived in this village under the pretense of being sent-down youth calmed his heart a little. As long as they stayed cautious and avoided being seen with him, it should be fine.
Taking the enamel mug, his eyes reddened. “Xiao Yun, were your adoptive parents bad to you?”
Song Yun sat by the bed, holding the water in her hands, and softly said, “It’s all in the past. Whether they were good or bad doesn’t matter. From now on, I’m only your daughter.”
Hearing this, how could Song Hao not understand?
He hadn’t expected Song Zhenzhen to be so heartless and malicious. After so many years of careful upbringing, he had raised a thankless traitor. Back then, when her studies weren’t good, he assumed she simply didn’t have the talent. Her looks and height didn’t resemble either him or Qingxia, but he hadn’t thought too much of it. He’d still cherished her deeply. Even when she suddenly produced proof that she’d been switched at birth in the hospital and wasn’t his biological daughter, he had only been happy for her—to escape misfortune and find a better life. He’d even entrusted Ziyi to her, thinking that after all these years as siblings, she’d look after him.
Who would have thought she’d be so vicious? She turned around and dumped Ziyi into that kind of household. If it weren’t for Xiao Yun, Song Hao didn’t even want to imagine what could’ve happened to Ziyi.
Song Yun had Ziyi take out some pastries for Song Hao to eat, then supported the nearly unconscious Bai Qingxia. Holding her mother in her arms, she had Ziyi hold the bowl as she spoon-fed her water little by little.
Maybe because her body was dehydrated, after a few sips, Bai Qingxia began to swallow on her own. The bowl was soon empty.
Though she remained semi-unconscious and hadn’t fully regained consciousness, her breathing was much steadier, and her complexion had a slight flush. It was evident that the nutrient liquid had indeed helped ease her condition.
With this, Song Yun felt more at ease. Even if she couldn’t find strong anti-inflammatory medicine tomorrow, she could continue using the nutrient solution to slow the progression. At least it would buy more time.
Ever since being labeled a “rightist,” Song Hao hadn’t had a single proper meal. A rich, fragrant bowl of rice porridge like this was something he hadn’t even dared dream of. Every day he barely survived on wild vegetable gruel or rough, throat-scratching black millet and veggie dumplings, only ever eating just enough to not starve. At night, hunger kept him awake.
Just one enamel mug of porridge made him feel full. He didn’t even touch the pastries. It surprised him. Before eating, he’d been starving and felt like he could eat an entire cow. Normally, he could eat much more than this. Yet now he was full, just like the feeling after eating four steamed buns at a state-run restaurant. Even his cough seemed to ease up—he felt pretty good.
Song Yun knew what was going on. The porridge had been infused with nutrient fluid—it not only boosted satiety but also helped regulate the body.
Seeing that Song Hao had put down the mug, she refilled it from the pot and poured the rest into both the mug and bowl. There was a little left, so she let Ziyi eat it.
“I’ll need to use this clay pot tomorrow to boil medicine. I’ll take it back with me. When I get the chance to go into town, I’ll buy two more pots and bring one for you,” Song Yun said.
Song Hao wanted to refuse—he was afraid the kids’ frequent visits would draw suspicion. But seeing his wife’s condition, he couldn’t bring himself to say no. He just sighed.
Carrying the pot, Song Yun said gently, “Dad, dark clouds won’t cover the sky forever. One day, the clouds will part and the mist will clear. As long as we hold on and live well, our day of light will come.”
Thinking of the hardships he’d suffered lately, Song Hao felt bitter. “Will it really come? Will there be light again?” He was suffocating under the heavy burden of despair.
Song Yun nodded solemnly. “Yes. It will. We have to believe in the country. This chaos is just the storm before the rainbow. The future will get better.”
Perhaps her words inspired him. The darkness in Song Hao’s eyes began to fade, replaced by a faint glow. A smile appeared on his haggard face, covered in stubble. “You’re right.”
It was getting late. Song Yun didn’t linger—there would be many chances to visit again. No need to rush. She left with Song Ziyi.
Standing at the entrance of the cowshed, watching the siblings’ figures slowly fade into the night, Song Hao wiped his face and returned inside.
Bai Qingxia was still unconscious, but clearly in better shape than before. He could finally breathe a little easier.
The room was lit by a candle—it was the first time since he came here that he’d seen light at night.
To have light—it felt so good.
Thinking of the elderly Qi and Mo in the shed next door, Song Hao took half a pack of pastries from the bag his daughter brought, grabbed two candles, and filled another mug of porridge before heading over.
Qi and Mo hadn’t been asleep. These makeshift huts weren’t soundproof. Of course they’d heard the movement next door—they just pretended they hadn’t.
“Mr. Qi, Mr. Mo, are you asleep?” Song Hao knocked gently and asked in a low voice.
Qi tried to get up, but Mo stopped him. “Don’t move—have you forgotten your leg? I’ll get the door.”
Qi’s leg was injured, and quite seriously—likely a fracture. If treated in a hospital and given time to heal, he could have recovered fully. But in this place, they didn’t even have the right to visit a hospital, let alone leave the mountain village. Those “dogs” who claimed to be “educating” them were really just abusers, and there was no chance of receiving proper treatment.
After dragging it out for over ten days, his leg had swelled badly. Whether he’d ever walk normally again was uncertain.
Mo wasn’t much better off. Long-term malnutrition had worn his body down, and all the heavy labor left him constantly on the verge of collapse. At any moment, he could fall and never get up again.