No matter where one is, as long as family is by one’s side, there is always a sense of belonging. And that place, wherever it may be, becomes home.
Now that the family of three was together, this small mountain cave had become their home.
In truth, it wasn’t until now—nearly half a month after arriving here—that Tang Jiao and Gu Yu had truly begun to accept, deep in their hearts, that this place would be where they lived long-term, the place they would call home.
Though all their actions had been guided by preparations for the worst, they still clung, deep down, to a faint sense of hope.
What if?
What if one day they were suddenly sent back, just as inexplicably as they had arrived?
What if all of this was nothing more than a dream?
It wasn’t until every last supply had been moved into this small cave—until the empty space was slowly filled with familiar belongings, until the cave was gradually tidied and arranged by their own hands—that they finally began to feel a trace of belonging to this foreign world, and to this small cave within it. Only then did they slowly come to accept a reality they had once found impossible to accept.
Human adaptability, it turns out, is far stronger than one imagines.
It works quietly, bit by bit, easing one’s defenses and relaxing the heart. By the time you suddenly realize it, it has already blended into your life, accompanying you without you even noticing.
Compared to adults, the “three little ones” adapted even better.
After the initial novelty wore off, An’an spent a few days missing his grandparents, his teachers and classmates, kindergarten, and tasty food. But soon enough, he returned to his carefree, cheerful self.
As for the two small animals, it was even more natural for them. Perhaps the wilderness was their true world. Returning here was simply a return to their instincts. Tang Jiao now made a point of locking them in their cages whenever she went out—afraid that once they ran free, they’d forget all about home and refuse to come back.
The two little ones now even had names: the cat was called Tuan Tuan, and the dog Yuan Yuan, names chosen with the hope that one day the whole family—grandparents included—would be joyfully reunited.
Back to the small cave.
Because it had only a tiny ventilation opening, the interior had been dark and poorly ventilated, far damper than the larger cave.
After examining the rock walls inside and outside the vent, Gu Yu picked an afternoon when they had no plans to go out, grabbed a hammer, and started chipping away, enlarging the opening considerably.
Fortunately, the rock around the vent was fairly thin. With little effort, he expanded it into a window roughly eighty centimeters square. Instantly, both lighting and ventilation improved dramatically. The air inside the cave felt fresher, and the entire space became noticeably brighter.
Of course, this came at the cost of insulation. But Gu Yu had already thought ahead. One of their large storage boxes had a transparent lid—more than big enough to cover the opening. During the day, they could remove it for ventilation; when warmth was needed, they could put it back. Since it was transparent, it wouldn’t block much light even when closed.
This was only a temporary solution. Once the weather warmed and insects became an issue, it wouldn’t be enough. Gu Yu planned to smooth out the edges of the opening, install a proper window frame, cut the transparent lid to size as a makeshift pane, and find suitable materials for a screen. That way, it would be warmer, more attractive, insect-proof, and easier to open and close.
For now, though it was a rough fix, everyone clearly preferred this brighter cave to the dim one from before. At the very least, they no longer needed to light a fire just to see during the daytime.
Fire meant burning wood, and burning wood produced smoke. Even dry wood wasn’t entirely smokeless—and it still stung the throat.
Gu Yu also cleared away the soil and wild grass clinging to the rock wall outside the window, preventing insects from breeding there or crawling into the cave.
Inside, he smoothed down the jagged, uneven stones on the walls and floor as well, making sure no one would get hurt by accidentally bumping into them.
Step by step, this small cave was no longer just a shelter—it was becoming a true home.
Especially for An’an—children who run and jump around are the most likely to fall. If he were to hit a sharp stone, it would be extremely dangerous.
After the cleanup, both the floor and the walls were much smoother. Not only was the cave safer, it also looked far more pleasant.
Just inside the entrance of the small cave, on the right-hand side, was a recessed stone bed carved into the rock. The hollow was shaped like a half-oval, and Gu Yu had carefully chiseled away all the protruding edges. Once the mattress, bedding, and their favorite sheets were laid down, it became surprisingly soft and comfortable.
Even after the bed was made, there was still plenty of space left. Tang Jiao placed two large storage boxes at the end, using them to store electronic devices and frequently used items. They doubled as bedside tables and a desk—neat, practical, and convenient.
The two metal wardrobes were placed side by side deeper inside the stone bed area. Clothes and bedding sets were first sealed in plastic bags to protect against moisture, then neatly stored inside. Only the clothes they wore regularly were hung directly in the cabinets.
They didn’t have many quilts. Aside from An’an’s small blanket, there were only two lightweight summer quilts, one thick winter quilt, and a mattress pad. The summer quilts were stored in a storage box for now, while the others stayed on the bed. If the weather grew colder, even the summer quilts would be taken out and layered on top for warmth.
Opposite the cave entrance was where most of their remaining supplies were stored:
Five or six storage boxes of various sizes holding food, books, and other items;
Two large suitcases and An’an’s small plastic cartoon suitcase, each packed with assorted odds and ends;
One large carton containing forty packs of tissue paper, and another box filled with more sanitary pads than they would need for an entire year—both stocked up by Tang Jiao during online sales;
A large cardboard box of facial cleansers and skincare products she had hoarded, plus another box of all-ages skincare products from a certain domestic hospital brand—famous more for its awkward name than its marketing, yet reliable nonetheless;
One box of An’an’s toys and one box of Gu Yu’s tools;
Two huge bundles of toilet paper and other miscellaneous items like soap, laundry bars, sewing kits, and hair ties.
Those bundles of toilet paper were truly enormous—fifty rolls per pack for just seventy yuan—sold by vendors who drove small trucks into the village.
They were cheap to begin with, possibly because they were unbranded products, and village aunties were experts at bargaining, driving the price even lower.
They weren’t easy to come by, though, so Tang Jiao had told her mother-in-law to buy several packs whenever she saw them. Looking back now, that had been a very wise decision.
To the right of the cave’s window, Tang Jiao planned to have Gu Yu study whether it would be possible to build a large heated kang. If that proved too difficult, a fireplace would do. That way, they could keep warm in winter without worrying about smoke choking them.
The remaining space was left empty for now. Once they made a set of tables and chairs and placed them there, the cave would feel even more like a proper home.