As the militia platoon leader, Li Gangpao was highly efficient. As soon as the Party secretary and the accountant arrived at the warehouse, he slung his rifle over his shoulder, raised a torch, and said excitedly, “Quick, quick, quick—let’s go catch a wild boar!”
“Ahem— I mean, let’s go look for Auntie.”
The night was deep and the dew heavy. Wang Daren shivered, wrapped his overcoat tighter around himself, and nodded.
Shen Fuyao rolled her eyes, handed the two children over to Wang Daren, and didn’t even bother calling him Dad. She said bluntly, “We’re going too. I walk slowly—you hold their hands.”
Wang Daren’s hands were cold and he didn’t want to hold the kids. But with Li Gangpao there, he had to maintain his image as the production team leader, so he reluctantly took his hands out.
The northwest wind blew in with damp, icy air from the mountains. Wang Daren shuddered and yanked the two kids closer to himself.
Wang Caifeng pouted and cried out in pain. Wang Zhuo’er, whose body was four but whose soul was twenty-two, didn’t whine like his sister. He merely frowned and shot Wang Daren a cold look to express his displeasure.
“Oh?” Shen Fuyao said, feigning surprise. “Look—doesn’t Wang Zhuo’er look a lot like Wang Chaoying when he frowns? Someone who didn’t know better might think they were father and son.”
Li Gangpao was charging ahead in front. Hearing this, he turned around, brought the torch closer to Wang Zhuo’er, studied him carefully, and said in amazement, “Hey—now that you mention it, you’re right. He really does look like him.”
Shen Fuyao pointed at Wang Zhuo’er’s eyes. “See? His eyes—big peach-blossom eyes. Even when he’s not crying, they look watery and bright. Exactly like Wang Chaoying’s.”
Wang Chaoying had pale, cool-toned skin, peach-blossom eyes, thin lips, a high nose bridge, and stood 178 centimeters tall. No matter the era, he was strikingly handsome, one in ten thousand—otherwise he wouldn’t have attracted the commander’s daughter.
Especially those deep, affectionate peach-blossom eyes, shimmering and fluid, incredibly captivating.
Wang Zhuo’er had inherited Wang Chaoying’s eyes and facial bone structure. Look closely, and he really did seem carved from the same mold.
Wang Daren thought so too, but his son had sworn it wasn’t the case before, so he’d abandoned the suspicion.
Now that Shen Fuyao brought it up again, under the torchlight Wang Daren found Wang Zhuo’er looking more and more like his son. Still, he didn’t dare show it. Wang Chaoying was a soldier—having two children appear out of nowhere would be a serious violation of conduct.
“Ahem. How are they alike? Not alike at all. Kids haven’t grown into their looks yet—they resemble everyone. Aren’t they all just two eyes, a nose, and a mouth?”
Putting on a worried act, Wang Daren urged, “Hurry up and find that useless old woman of mine. If she really got eaten by a wild boar, what are we supposed to do?”
At the mention of wild boars, Li Gangpao immediately stopped looking at Wang Zhuo’er and took several long strides to the front again.
Wang Daren, holding one child in each hand, quickened his pace to follow. His greasy head kept turning toward Wang Zhuo’er on his left, guessing whether the boy was really Wang Chaoying’s seed.
Inside Wang Zhuo’er’s four-year-old body lived a twenty-two-year-old soul. One look at Wang Daren’s expression and he knew exactly what the old man was thinking.
At this point, distracted by thoughts of wild boar meat, Li Gangpao had already left them far behind. Wang Zhuo’er glanced at Shen Fuyao trailing at a distance, tugged at Wang Daren’s sleeve, and motioned for him to squat down.
“What is it?” Wang Daren bent over and asked.
“Grandpa, my sister and I are both Dad’s biological children,” Wang Zhuo’er said, standing on tiptoe and leaning close to Wang Daren’s ear.
“You little brat—don’t spout nonsense,” Wang Daren said, quickly glancing ahead. Seeing that Li Gangpao was already quite far away, he finally relaxed.
“Grandpa, I’m not making it up. I saw Dad’s diary. He wrote in it that my biological mother is Xia Yulan from the song-and-dance troupe, and my maternal grandfather is a commander.”
Wang Zhuo’er went on. He had to tell Wang Daren the truth now and get him on the same side so they could deal with Shen Fuyao together.
Wang Zhuo’er wasn’t stupid—he was smarter than most. What happened today hadn’t occurred in his previous life, and Shen Fuyao’s gaze was far more ruthless than before. He was absolutely certain that Shen Fuyao had also been reborn.
“You’re only four—how do you know how to read?” Wang Daren thought Wang Zhuo’er was talking nonsense.
“Grandpa, don’t you remember? Every time Dad came back from the army, he taught me to read. I have a photographic memory.”
Wang Zhuo’er glanced again at Shen Fuyao, who was drawing closer, then pulled Wang Daren forward with a serious expression. “Grandpa, let’s find Grandma first. I’ll explain everything properly to you later.”
Looking at the face so much like Wang Chaoying’s, Wang Daren chuckled and muttered softly as he walked, “Definitely Chaoying’s son. Heh, this kid—just like me, having kids outside.”
“But he’s more capable than his old man. Hooked up with someone from the song-and-dance troupe—and with a commander for a father. That means I’ll be in-laws with a commander.”
Wang Daren’s voice was very low. Li Gangpao couldn’t hear it, and even Wang Zhuo’er walking beside him didn’t catch it. But Shen Fuyao had drunk the Spirit Spring water—her hearing was unbeatable, and she heard every word clearly.
She couldn’t help but snort in amusement, thinking, This Wang Daren is ugly as sin, but he sure dreams big. Doesn’t he ever look in a mirror? With a face like a mudslide disaster, could he really have produced someone like Wang Chaoying?