After her uncle and father went on their mission, all items related to them at home were destroyed by Grandpa Shang. Not even a single photo of them together remained.
After they both sacrificed their lives, Jiang Li tried to look for her uncle’s classmates and her father’s comrades-in-arms, but none of them had anything left. It was as if everything related to them had been deliberately erased many years ago.
If their deeds had not been recorded in the national Heroes Book, it would feel as if they had never existed in this world.
Jiang Li had never fallen apart because of their deaths. She always believed her uncle and father were still living in another way.
Just as Grandpa had said, for them, sacrificing for the country and for justice was more meaningful than staying alive.
And what she needed to do was live well for them, and see the world on their behalf.
Jiang Li was not someone who easily cried. Especially after her father’s sacrifice, she had hardly cried at all.
But when she saw this photo of her father and uncle together, tears suddenly fell uncontrollably.
Drop after drop fell like a broken string of beads, like a gate had opened and couldn’t be closed. Large tears fell onto the edge of the photo frame—and seemed to fall right onto Shang Huizhou’s heart, burning hot.
Shang Huizhou frowned tightly, taking a sharp breath. He stretched out his long arm and pulled her into his broad embrace, covering the back of her head with his hand so her face was pressed against his chest.
The moment he held her, Jiang Li quietly cried without making a sound, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing.
It was just like when she first came to the Shang family, when she learned her father would never come back.
Her father had died together with a large ship carrying illegal goods. Although the main criminal was caught, the network behind him was complicated.
Her father’s superior feared she might be targeted and hurt, so after discussing with Old Master Jiang, they placed her in the Shang family for protection.
Back then, she couldn’t accept it and silently cried. It was Shang Huizhou—who had always seemed distant and indifferent to her—who pulled her into his arms like this, silently holding her head while she cried softly against him.
Shang Huizhou’s usually cold face was tense and heavy.
After a long while, he let out a soft sigh and spoke in a low voice near her ear, his tone full of tenderness.
“Don’t cry. I brought this photo for you, not to make you cry. If I had known you would cry like this, I wouldn’t have looked for it.”
Even he didn’t believe that last sentence.
To find this photo, he had tried many ways. It was the only surviving copy, but it had been badly damaged. He had to find several experts to restore it to its original form.
After staying in his arms for a while, Jiang Li lifted her head and looked at him with a slightly hoarse voice.
“Where did you find this photo of my father and uncle?”
Shang Huizhou spoke calmly, in a light and casual tone. “I just happened to see it, so I asked a friend to retrieve it.”
Jiang Li pressed her lips tightly together. She didn’t believe his “just happened” at all. He must have gone through a lot of effort.
“Stop crying. You look like a little wet kitten.” Her eyelashes were still damp, long lashes clumped together. Looking at her like this made Shang Huizhou’s usually firm heart soften completely. Even his cold voice turned gentle.
His gaze stayed on her delicate face without any attempt to hide it.
Jiang Li felt a little embarrassed under his stare.
Was her makeup really that messy?
She turned her head away, avoiding his gaze, and moved out of his arms a little awkwardly. “Can you turn off the light?”
The warmth in his arms disappeared, and so did that strange emptiness in his chest. Shang Huizhou frowned slightly.
After two seconds, he reached for his phone and turned off the light without hesitation.
He understood Jiang Li very well.
Ever since she was little, she cared about her appearance and didn’t like others seeing her messy or ugly moments.
Her makeup was a little smudged, but she didn’t look bad at all—just a bit pitiful, the kind that made people want to protect her.
Ten minutes later, Shang Huizhou smiled faintly and asked, “Can I turn the light back on?”
“Mm,” Jiang Li nodded.
The light came back on, and the room brightened again.
Only then did Jiang Li notice something else inside the wooden box.
There was a small item—a jade mooncake pendant. It was a bit ugly, but you could still tell it was meant to be a mooncake.
She knew immediately it was Shang Huizhou’s handiwork.
His craftsmanship was terrible. She knew that well.
Back then, she was good at crafts and even showed off in front of him. In her eyes, Shang Huizhou had seemed perfect—until she accidentally discovered he was really bad at it.
She even got a little proud of it and teased him a lot, which made him lose his temper several times.
Seeing her stare at the jade pendant, Shang Huizhou couldn’t read her expression. After all, she had mocked him before.
He cleared his throat lightly, a little awkward. “Don’t focus on the details. I just made it for practice.”
“Oh.” Jiang Li responded softly, lowering her gaze, the corners of her lips gently curved.
After she left the Shang family, she never properly celebrated Mid-Autumn Festival again.
In recent years, her grandfather and grandmother were often traveling. The family rarely gathered for holidays anymore.
No one brought up those painful memories, as if everyone silently avoided reopening old wounds.
And she herself was usually performing, or on the way to performances, or resting alone in her small place in Yunnan.
Shang Huizhou looked at the ugly little jade pendant again. Even he thought it was embarrassing now. He couldn’t understand how he once thought it was good.
His ears turned slightly red.
“It’s still a semi-finished piece. I accidentally dropped it inside.”
He reached out his hand toward Jiang Li, clearly asking for it back.
But Jiang Li didn’t return it. She kept the pendant and photo neatly in place and said sincerely, “Thank you, Shang Huizhou. And happy Mid-Autumn Festival.”
Seeing that she accepted the gift, his tense expression eased a little, and a faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips.
“Mm. What about my gift?”
“Huh?” Jiang Li was surprised.
“What do you mean ‘huh’?” he said calmly. “Shouldn’t you also give me a Mid-Autumn gift?”
“……” She really hadn’t prepared one.
Shang Huizhou raised his brows slightly, a faint smile in his voice. “Miss Jiang, you accepted mine. Don’t you understand reciprocity?”
She really didn’t expect such a meaningful gift from him, so she hadn’t prepared anything.
After thinking for a moment, Jiang Li said, “Wait.”
Less than a minute later, she returned from her room holding a box of mooncakes given by the TV station. “Here. Your gift.”
Shang Huizhou looked at the simple box in her hands.
It was really simple… but festive.
He took it and asked, “What flavors are there?”
Jiang Li hadn’t checked. “What flavor do you like?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at her for a long moment before finally saying one word.
“Pear.”
“……”
Jiang Li’s heart suddenly tightened. Her heartbeat seemed to skip a beat.
She looked away quickly and said softly, “Pineapple, you mean? I can make some for you next time.”
Shang Huizhou didn’t answer directly. His gaze deepened as he looked at her for a while.
“Let’s talk about it next Mid-Autumn Festival.”
“……” Next year already?
Just then, Shang Huizhou’s phone rang—Du He was calling him, reminding him to go downstairs.
Jiang Li pointed toward her room. “Have a safe trip. I’ll go back first.”
“Mm. Rest early.”
Jiang Li left his room quickly.
After showering, she lay half-reclined on her bed, holding the photo of her father and uncle. Her mood was low, her thoughts drifting.
She stared at it for a long time until her phone on the bedside table vibrated.
It was a message from Shang Huizhou:
【You ruined one of my shirts.】
Seeing that message, the heaviness in her heart suddenly eased.
It was just a few tears—how dramatic. It could be washed, nothing was ruined.
She didn’t reply.
Jiang Li placed the photo back into the wooden box, lay down, and slowly closed her eyes.
For the first time that night, her lips curved slightly as she fell asleep peacefully.
The team’s closed-door meeting this time was organized by higher-level leaders and lasted for one week.
On the third day, after the meeting ended, Jiang Li was asked to stay behind to discuss the plot elements of the Yanhe dance drama with several senior experts.
The seniors first shared their ideas, and Jiang Li carefully took notes one by one.
A leader suggested, “Xiao Jiang, since you are the main person in charge of the Yanhe performance, let’s hear your thoughts.”
Jiang Li stood up and slowly explained her ideas.
“Based on what the seniors suggested—combining stage drama and musical elements—I propose we innovate by integrating Yanhe’s history, folk stories, and customs. From the ancient lifestyle of sunrise-to-sunset farming, to the inheritance of commerce, and then into modern technological development, showing the transformation of the era.”
After she finished, the meeting room fell silent for several seconds.
Then one senior clapped and praised, “Good idea! Xiao Jiang’s proposal is excellent. It not only integrates culture and history, but also shows Yanhe’s rapid development.”
Another senior immediately added, “In that case, a performance with over a thousand dancers can become very diverse and not boring. The dance content will also be very rich.”
Gradually, everyone began discussing it further.
Soon, a senior raised the main difficulty: “The idea is creative, but we can’t ignore one thing. This kind of transformation, the connection between eras, and costume changes all require technological support. The choreography difficulty will be very high.”
Jiang Li roughly drew her ideas on paper. The technological effects would only be part of it—the main transformation would be expressed through the dancers’ body movements. Several choreographers and senior experts all agreed that although the difficulty was great, if successful, it would become a major breakthrough in the performing arts world.
The leaders were very satisfied and turned to Wen Fan. “Deputy Director Wen, what do you think?”
Wen Fan, once a person who created miracles in classical dance and extremely talented in the field, nodded in approval.
“The idea is very innovative. As the seniors said, the overall difficulty is indeed high. But if there is difficulty, we should face it head-on, not back down. I support Jiang Li’s idea!”
Jiang Li looked at Wen Fan, and they smiled at each other.
The initial background and framework of the Yanhe performance were finalized. Next would be detailed choreography.
When the meeting ended, Wen Fan passed by Jiang Li and said softly, “I might have some folk stories about old Yanhe. I’m not sure if I can find them, but if I do, I’ll bring them to you.”
Jiang Li replied, “Thank you, Sister Wen.”
Wen Fan smiled. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not even sure I can find them.”
Jiang Li returned to the troupe apartment at 8:10 p.m. She checked her phone—there were no missed calls or messages from Grandpa.
She had called him earlier at around six, and then called Grandma again, but the phone was out of service.
A sense of unease rose in her heart.
Wen Fan had just brought over some materials, and as soon as she entered, she noticed a small, ugly-looking pendant hanging on Jiang Li’s favorite folding fan.
“Who carved this? It’s… very distinctive,” Wen Fan asked. She was certain Jiang Li wouldn’t have made it herself.
Jiang Li was very skilled in handicrafts and often participated in designing props and costumes. Her craftsmanship was almost comparable to professionals.
Jiang Li paused for a moment, her gentle gaze resting briefly on the jade pendant before she curved her lips slightly. “A friend gave it to me.”
Wen Fan didn’t ask further and placed the materials beside her. “Here are the Yanhe folk stories you wanted.”
Jiang Li blinked her beautiful eyes. “Thanks. You’re the best, I love you.”
“Cut it out. Work hard,” Wen Fan said with a faint smile. “I made a guarantee at the leadership level this time, and you’re someone I strongly recommended. Don’t disappoint me.”
Jiang Li smiled. “I’ll do my best. I won’t let you down.”
Wen Fan trusted her ability and didn’t say more.
Jiang Li read for a while, then called Grandpa again—but it was still out of service.
Not long after Wen Fan left, a video call from Shang Huizhou came in.
Jiang Li answered it naturally, without hesitation.
It seemed that since Mid-Autumn Festival night, her attitude toward Shang Huizhou had returned to how it was during those three years—maybe even more relaxed than before.
She no longer felt as guarded around him.
Shang Huizhou noticed her distraction. “Something on your mind?”
Jiang Li sighed softly, her face unable to hide her worry. “I’ve called Grandpa several times, but he hasn’t answered. Usually, even if he doesn’t pick up, he calls back within two or three hours. But now it’s been much longer, and his phone is still out of service.”
Shang Huizhou frowned slightly. “Where is Grandpa Jiang now?”
“On the western Sichuan route, southern section. He said he would come down in a few days, but now I can’t reach him at all.”
Shang Huizhou picked up his work phone and quickly checked the location and recent updates. No major issues were reported. His voice softened.
“Don’t worry too much. Grandpa Jiang has traveled that area for years and knows the terrain well. Nothing should happen. In western Sichuan, no signal is very common.”
Jiang Li nodded, but she was still uneasy.
Shang Huizhou tried calling again—still out of service.
He then sent a message to Du He: Contact local authorities in southern western Sichuan and check if anything happened along the travel route.
Then he said to her, “I’ve already asked Du He to investigate. Don’t worry.”
“Okay.” Hearing this, Jiang Li felt slightly more at ease. Then she asked, “Did you call me for something?”
Shang Huizhou looked at her, a faint smile on his lips.
“Nothing. I just wanted to talk to you.”
Jiang Li met his dark eyes.
Shang Huizhou seemed different lately. His usual cold, distant expression was still there, but now there was often a faint smile. The way he looked at her also felt different—warmer, and a little more intense.
That intense gaze made Jiang Li feel like she had nowhere to hide. She avoided Shang Huizhou’s eyes that seemed to see right through the screen. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and her emotions stirred like ripples in a deep, unsettled lake.
Shang Huizhou let out a soft chuckle through his breath, sounding a little amused. “Don’t overthink it. Everything will be fine.”
Jiang Li softly responded with a “mm.” She didn’t know why, but she completely trusted him without reason.
After ending the video call, Shang Huizhou received a knock on the door. Du He quickly entered with a serious expression.
“Mr. Shang, an hour ago, a landslide occurred in Rock Slope Mountain in southern western Sichuan. More than ten tourists were trapped. Old Master Jiang was on that route. It seems his leg was injured, and he has been sent to the hospital with the other injured people.”
Without hesitation, Shang Huizhou grabbed his phone and immediately booked the earliest flight. He threw a coat over his arm and walked out while speaking to Du He.
“I’ll go check the situation first. Book a return flight to Beijing for Jiang Li and arrange for someone to bring her to western Sichuan. The company matters will be handled by the deputy director.”
Du He hesitated. “Should we not tell Miss Jiang first? Or let her wait in Beijing?”
“The western Sichuan area is high altitude and deep in the mountains. It’s not easy to travel,” he added.
Shang Huizhou’s voice was calm but firm. “She won’t wait. Tomorrow morning, the news will come out anyway. If she sees it, she’ll panic and rush over alone. I don’t trust her going there by herself. You go pick her up.”
He knew Jiang Li too well—she was stubborn by nature. Asking her to wait was impossible. It was better to bring her there safely.
Besides, Jiang Li’s situation was different from an ordinary family. Even though she seemed fine on the surface, she was very emotionally sensitive inside.
Her grandparents were her only true support.
She had the right to know everything, whether good or bad.
Old Master Jiang was on a self-driving trip, accompanied by his personal secretary as the driver.
Last night, there was heavy rain. A landslide occurred on the mountain road connecting Rock Slope Mountain and the southern county.
Although his car had already reached a safe area, he immediately ordered the secretary to turn back and help rescue injured tourists.
Shang Huizhou arrived at the Southern People’s Hospital at around 4 a.m.
When Old Master Jiang saw him, he was clearly surprised.
Shang Huizhou looked exhausted and damp from travel, carrying a faint chill on him. Seeing that the old man only had a leg injury and some bruises on his arm, he asked with concern, “Grandpa Jiang, are there any other discomforts?”
He had already learned the situation from Mrs. Jiang and Secretary Zhou in the hospital corridor. The old man had an old injury in his leg, which worsened due to the humid weather. A recent sprain made it worse, and last night, while directing rescue efforts, his condition flared up again. During examination, a small growth was found inside, so he had undergone a minor surgery.
Old Master Jiang looked energetic despite everything and lifted his casted leg. “What could be wrong? Just this leg is a bit uncooperative.”
Mrs. Jiang scolded him angrily, though full of concern. “A bit uncooperative? You almost ruined it completely! At your age, still acting like a young man!”
Old Master Jiang chuckled sheepishly. In front of outsiders he was loud and strict, but in front of his wife and Jiang Li, he was always smiling and easygoing.
He was originally a soldier, and even at nearly eighty, he looked like he was only in his early sixties.
Mrs. Jiang handed him the phone. “Call your granddaughter and report that you’re safe. She’s been worried all night.”
Old Master Jiang scratched his head, looking guilty. He knew Jiang Li would be upset seeing him in the hospital.
Then Shang Huizhou spoke. “Grandpa Jiang, I agree with Grandma Jiang. Jiang Li was very worried last night.”
Old Master Jiang suddenly caught something important from his words and looked at him meaningfully.
So these two were still in contact?
He had thought that after Jiang Li had made things clear last time, they would have stopped talking.
A hint of satisfaction flashed in his eyes.
Just then, Jiang Li’s video call came through.
When she saw the news about the landslide in Rock Slope Mountain, her heart tightened instantly.
The call connected, and the first thing she saw was Old Master Jiang in a hospital gown.
“Grandpa, why are you in the hospital? Are you hurt?” Her voice trembled.
Old Master Jiang quickly waved his hand. “It’s a long story, just a small issue. Don’t worry, Grandpa will be up and running in ten days at most!”
But hearing that he would need so long, Jiang Li’s tears immediately fell.
She rarely cried, especially not in front of them.
Seeing her cry, Old Master Jiang panicked. “Don’t cry, don’t cry! Grandpa was joking! I’ll be discharged tomorrow—no, right now I can get up and show you!”
He actually tried to sit up, but Mrs. Jiang pushed him back down immediately.
“Just lie down properly! And stop acting tough at your age!”
Old Master Jiang scratched his head and fell silent. Deep down, he was still a soldier—no matter how many years he had retired, protecting people was always instinct.
After a few words, Mrs. Jiang took the phone.
Smiling gently, she said, “Don’t worry, it’s just a sprained foot. He’ll be fine after a few days of rest.”
“It’s not ‘just acting tough,’ it’s instinct,” Old Master Jiang muttered.
“We don’t need any more heroes in the Jiang family!” Mrs. Jiang said sharply, though her eyes carried hidden pain.
Old Master Jiang immediately fell silent, knowing he had touched a sensitive topic.
He shrank a little and whispered, “Alright, alright… I was wrong. I promise, next time I’ll turn back immediately.”
Since her uncle and father went on a mission, all items related to them at home were destroyed by Grandpa. There wasn’t even a single photo left of them together.
After they both sacrificed their lives, Jiang Li tried to find anything about them. She asked her uncle’s classmates and her father’s comrades, but none of them had anything. It was as if all traces of them had been deliberately erased long ago.
If their deeds had not been recorded in the national book of heroes, it would feel like they had never existed in this world at all.
Jiang Li never collapsed because of their deaths. She always believed her uncle and father were still “alive” in another way.
Just like Grandpa said, for them, sacrificing for the country and the greater good was more meaningful than living.
What she needed to do was live well for them, and see the world for them.
Jiang Li was not someone who cried easily. Especially after her father passed away, she barely cried at all.
But when she saw that old photo of her father and uncle, her tears fell uncontrollably.
They dropped one after another, like broken strings and an opened floodgate, impossible to stop. Large tears fell onto the photo frame—and it felt like they were falling onto Shang Huai Zhou’s heart as well.
Shang Huai Zhou frowned deeply and took a sharp breath. Then he opened his arms and pulled her into his embrace, covering the back of her head so her face rested against his chest.
As he held her, Jiang Li silently cried without making a sound, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing.
It was just like the time she first came to the Shang family and found out her father would never return.
Her father had died together with a ship carrying illegal goods. Although the criminal leader was killed, the network behind him was complicated.
Her father’s superior was afraid she might be targeted, so after discussing with Grandpa Jiang, they sent her to live with the Shang family.
Back then, she could not accept it and cried silently. It was also Shang Huai Zhou who held her like this—without a word, just holding her head gently as she cried in his arms.
Now, just like before, he quietly hugged her as she cried.
After a long silence, Shang Huai Zhou finally sighed softly and said in a low voice near her ear, full of care:
“I didn’t bring this photo to make you cry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have looked for it.”
But even he didn’t really believe his own words. He had spent a lot of effort finding it.
Jiang Li finally lifted her head in his arms and asked hoarsely:
“Where did you find this photo of my father and uncle?”