At home, Zhou Zhonghai took care of Zhou Wenhui.
Getting up, going to the bathroom, and bathing—he hoisted Zhou Wenhui up effortlessly with just one hand.
“Your mother and I are heading back to the military headquarters today. Qiaoqiao will be able to take good care of you.”
In front of outsiders, Zhou Zhonghai was domineering and imposing; only in front of his son did his tone grow gentle, fully laying bare a father’s profound, lingering guilt.
What was he feeling guilty about? Guilty that it should have been him on that battlefield; even if he were the one with missing hands and feet, he would have no regrets.
Yet soldiers had no choice in the matter. Wherever the country pointed, they marched; whoever was ordered to fight went into battle.
If given the choice, any soldier’s parents would gladly trade places with their child.
“Is the war still not over?” Zhou Wenhui asked after a long silence.
Ever since he had miraculously survived and returned home for treatment, Zhou Wenhui had never once asked about the front lines.
“That’s right. Our division hasn’t received orders to deploy yet, but we’re on standby, ready to move out at any moment,” Zhou Zhonghai said as he helped his son tidy the bedding.
“And Mom?”
“Her medical unit has already sent out a first batch. Since I’m going, your mother probably won’t have to,” Zhou Zhonghai replied calmly.
“You guys… please stay safe…” Zhou Wenhui forced the words out stiffly.
Zhou Zhonghai sat down on the edge of the bed, fumbled anxiously in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, lit one, took a drag, and asked Zhou Wenhui, “Want one?”
“No. I don’t want to start.”
“Good. Smoking doesn’t do you any good. Wenhui, Qiaoqiao has had a hard life too; I hope you’ll treat her well. I know what you’re thinking…” Zhou Zhonghai tried to explain tactfully, though he hardly knew how to put it into words.
“I’ll get along with her,” Zhou Wenhui said flatly.
“I’ve wronged you, son. Zhaoying is a good girl, but… some things in life just aren’t meant to be; we couldn’t hold onto her,” Zhou Zhonghai took a harsh, deep drag on his cigarette.
“I know. I accept my fate.”
“Son, it’s not about accepting fate—sigh, your mother and I just wanted to keep you safe. Maybe we were wrong…” Seeing his son’s self-defeating, give-up attitude, Zhou Zhonghai’s heart ached fiercely.
“I understand. She is so beautiful and proud; following me would have ruined her,” Zhou Wenhui said, his voice as still as stagnant water.
Zhou Zhonghai patted his son and said with a heavy sigh, “Actually, your mother and I went to visit Zhaoying’s parents, too. We tried our best, but her parents’ stance was extremely firm. Wenhui, life is something you have to live for yourself. If you don’t even try, how do you know Qiaoqiao isn’t the right one?”
For their son’s sake, Zhou Zhonghai and Luo Meiyun had brought a mountain of gifts to the Zhaoying household, but her parents had refused to accept them, reiterating over and over that as a university classmate, it was only proper for Cheng Zhaoying to drop by and check on Wenhui—how could they possibly accept gifts on top of that?
Between the lines, they praised Zhou Wenhui’s heroic deeds while completely avoiding any talk of a relationship between the two young people.
Zhou Zhonghai had been utterly choked with frustration. In a fit of desperation, he scrambled to arrange a marriage for Zhou Wenhui precisely to cut off any remaining illusions.
Of course, rushing into the marriage so hastily was also driven by his fear that once he went to the front lines, he might never return.
If he didn’t come back, what would become of his son?
With Qiaoqiao here, he could at least set half of his worries to rest.
And if—if there could be a grandson or a granddaughter, he could die with his eyes closed.
Ah, he was letting his thoughts run too far ahead. In human life, who could ever calculate every single step?
“Old Zhou, dinner’s ready! Qiaoqiao made braised pork belly with vermicelli noodles, and it smells amazing,” Luo Meiyun’s voice cut through the silence between father and son.
Zhou Zhonghai stood up and grabbed the wheelchair handles. “Come on, let’s go eat.”
In the dining room, there was plain rice, steamed buns, fried peanuts, and a steaming-hot basin of braised pork belly with vermicelli noodles, tossed with tofu and napa cabbage.
“Wenhui, since we have such a rich spread, keep your old man company with a little drink,” Zhou Zhonghai said as he reached for the liquor bottle and cups.
Luo Meiyun finished setting the table and called out, “Qiaoqiao, stop working for a moment and come eat.”
“Today’s dishes were made by Qiaoqiao—even I’m drooling,” Luo Meiyun said, casting a sideways glance at Zhou Wenhui.
Zhou Wenhui showed no reaction at all.
As a family of four, Zhou Zhonghai and Zhou Wenhui drank wine together, while Luo Meiyun kept piling food into Qiaoqiao’s bowl.
“Eat up, it’s so good. Old Zhou, I haven’t had a proper home-cooked meal this authentic in nearly ten years.”
“Qiaoqiao really has magic hands. These vermicelli noodles are soaked through with savory broth, soft and tender. Wenhui, come on, have a sip.”
Remaining quiet as usual, Zhou Wenhui silently picked up his wine cup.
“Qiaoqiao, your mother and I are heading back to the military headquarters tonight. Sorry to trouble you with everything at home. If you run into any trouble, go straight to the logistics department; Xiao Liu is coming back with my unit.”
“Mm, Mom already told me everything.”
“Good. Your mother and I might be back in a month or two. Next time, you’ll have to make these noodles for us again. Hahaha…”
“Okay, whenever Mom and Dad want to eat them, I’ll make them anytime.”
Zhou Wenhui sipped his wine and ate his food in small, measured bites, his melancholic eyes as deep and calm as a bottomless well.
He could eat whatever; all he wanted was for his parents to return safely.
The large basin of braised pork with vermicelli noodles was completely cleaned out. Both Zhou Zhonghai and Zhou Wenhui had a bit to drink and went off to take an afternoon nap.
Efficiently clearing away the tableware, Qiaoqiao grabbed a hoe and headed out to the yard to dig up the soil.
Meanwhile, Luo Meiyun went to help gather dried weeds; after a couple of days drying in the sun, setting a match to them would make natural fertilizer.
“Qiaoqiao, aren’t you tired? Why don’t you take a break?”
“Not tired at all! If I don’t work for a single day, my whole body feels restless,” Qiaoqiao called out brightly.
People were truly strange creatures. Back in Big Willow Village, she had to toil from dawn till dusk doing farmwork, and all she wanted was to escape it.
Yet here she was in the city—eating well, dressing well—and if she wasn’t digging in the dirt, she didn’t feel right at all.
“Mom, do you have any envelopes at home? I want to write a letter to Fenglin.”
Remembering suddenly, she wanted to write letters—sharing everything about life in the city with her parents back home, and writing to Fenglin, too.
“We do! Once you’re done writing, just hand it over to the comrades at the logistics department, and they’ll help mail it out for you.”
“Great! Mom, can I write letters to you, too?”
Qiaoqiao smiled, revealing a row of sparkling white teeth against her sun-browned round face.
“No need for letters; Mama will call you whenever she has a free moment,” Luo Meiyun replied with a gentle smile.
“Mom, then I’ll keep a diary—writing down everything Wenhui does each day. You can bring it back to read at headquarters the next time you visit.”
“Now that would be wonderful! Qiaoqiao, you have to keep your word—you absolutely must write it down.”
They had barely turned over a quarter of the two large garden plots in the yard when a vehicle from the military headquarters pulled up.
Luo Meiyun and Zhou Zhonghai were due back at their unit. Hurrying to put down her hoe, Qiaoqiao said, “Mom, let me whip up a quick meal before you leave.”
Back home, sharing a meal was treated as the most important event in the world.
“No need, the army has plenty of food. I just need to wash up; you go right back to your digging,” Luo Meiyun said with a serene smile.
“I—let me brew a pot of tea for you to take along.”
If she didn’t do something to busy herself, a heavy wave of sadness would surely overwhelm her.
“Alright, then go fill a military canteen with tea for me. Don’t worry, Qiaoqiao, Mama will be back soon.”
Ever since she learned how cruel war truly was, the thought of her parents-in-law leaving felt like they were marching straight onto the battlefield, filling her with the panic of a final parting.
Before long, Luo Meiyun had changed back into her military uniform, checked on her son in the study, and carrying a simple piece of luggage, climbed into the jeep alongside Zhou Zhonghai.
“Qiaoqiao, I’m leaving Wenhui in your hands.”
Luo Meiyun held onto Qiaoqiao’s hands again and again. Between the country and the home—only with a country could a home truly exist.