“Ms. Su, the latest Forbes Rich List has named you the richest woman in the country. What are your thoughts on this?”
Su Minzhi sat quietly beneath the lights, expression calm. “Everyone knows I have no children. Wealth doesn’t mean that much to me. If I could trade it, I would rather my daughter had lived.”
The room fell silent. Even the hum of the camera felt painfully loud.
Su Niannian carefully asked, “All these years, you’ve been devoted to promoting rabies vaccines. Is that related to your daughter?”
A faint sorrow, almost invisible, flashed in Su Minzhi’s eyes, though her voice remained steady. “When I was young, I had a marriage. When my daughter was seven, she was bitten by a dog. She didn’t receive treatment in time and… she passed away. This has always been my greatest regret.”
“This is the first time you’ve mentioned your family in a public interview.” Su Niannian hesitated, then asked, “Was your later divorce related to this?”
Su Minzhi shook her head, her voice low. “No… there were other reasons. It wasn’t because of this.”
The interview ended quietly on that unfinished response.
Afterward, Su Niannian handed her a simple bouquet of lilies. “Thank you for accepting this interview,” she said gently.
Su Minzhi accepted it, showing a rare faint smile. She was known for her aloofness and rarely agreed to any interviews.
Just before leaving, she paused and turned back. “Reporter Su, do you know why I agreed to be interviewed by you this time?”
Su Niannian froze and instinctively shook her head.
“Because,” Su Minzhi said softly, her gaze drifting far away as if seeing someone through time, “my daughter was also called Niannian.”
With that, she left, her silhouette slowly fading.
The set remained quiet until the director walked over, half–joking. “Little Su, you actually share the same name as the richest woman’s daughter.”
Su Niannian forced a thin smile. “It’s just the same name. If I were really her daughter, I’d already be at home enjoying life.”
After a full day’s work, the sky had already turned pitch black. The Beijing wind cut like a blade, carrying grit and sand.
She pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, dragging her tired body toward the subway. The train was crowded; everyone was silent, like drifting stones with no place to rest in this vast city.
By the time she reached her rented apartment, the hallway’s dim bulb buzzed faintly. The walls were peeling, and footsteps mixed with shouting drifted down from above.
Her roommate hadn’t come home yet. The place felt cold and empty.
Too tired to cook, she tore open a packet of instant noodles, poured hot water, and ate quietly.
“This is my third year struggling in Beijing,” she murmured to herself.
Rent, prices, workplace competition—each weighed heavily on her.
Later that night, she fell onto her bed and quickly drifted into sleep.
Suddenly, sharp bicycle bells and a vendor’s cry rang in her ears.
“Fresh youtiao—hot, crispy youtiao!”
Su Niannian jolted awake—only to find herself walking through a narrow alley. On both sides stood old stone-gate buildings, clotheslines hung with colorful garments swaying in the wind. The air smelled faintly of a gas stove.
She looked down. She was wearing a red-and-blue schoolbag, her hair tied into two pigtails, dressed in a white blouse and blue suspender skirt, white cloth shoes on her feet, her calves still round with baby fat.
She had become… a primary school student!
“Is this… Shanghai?” she whispered, panic stirring in her chest.
Before she could figure things out, a low growl came from behind.
“Woof—woof woof!”
A large yellow dog burst out of a side alley, its eyes bloodshot, charging straight toward her.
Her face drained of color. She dropped the popsicle wrapper in her hand and ran.
The stone-paved alley was narrow and slippery; the clothes above flapped violently in the wind. She sprinted blindly, the sound of claws and feral barking closing in on her.
“Help—!” she screamed, her childish voice trembling with fear.
At that moment, a young man in a military uniform rushed toward her. He scooped her up with swift precision and, with a loud thud, kicked the lunging dog away. The dog yelped, tumbled, and fled.
Held tightly in his arms, her heart pounded wildly, almost bursting. She was sure her heart rate had shot past two hundred.
After a long moment, she finally collected herself, looking up at his handsome, youthful face. “Th-thank you… Uncle Soldier.”
He smiled lightly and crouched down to set her on the ground. But her legs had gone soft; the moment her feet touched the ground, she collapsed to her knees.
“Careful!” he said, reaching to steady her.
Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from deeper in the alley. A woman in her fifties rushed over, hair in a tight bun, a faded blue apron around her waist. When she saw Niannian, her face changed instantly.
“Oh heavens—what happened?! Niannian! Was that you shouting for help?”
Niannian froze, quickly guessing who this woman must be.
Before she could speak, the young soldier answered, “I happened to be passing by. I saw a big yellow dog chasing this little girl, so I chased it off.”
“Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!” The woman patted her chest, clearly shaken. She grabbed Niannian’s hand anxiously. “You scared Grandma to death! If something happened to you, what would Grandma do?”
She bent down, checking Niannian carefully, her voice softening. “Come, come home with Grandma. You’re scared silly, aren’t you? No school today. You’ll rest at home.”
Then she looked up and bowed slightly to the soldier. “Young man, truly—thank you. You’re such a good-hearted person.”
He quickly waved his hand. “It was nothing.”
The grandmother held Niannian’s hand tightly and slowly led her deeper into the alley.
Ye Huaiqian remained where he stood, watching their figures disappear, still unsettled.
Good thing he had decided to visit a comrade today. If that dog had bitten her, the consequences would’ve been unimaginable. Its bloodshot eyes clearly showed madness—she would’ve needed immediate treatment.
He exhaled, straightened his uniform, and walked in the opposite direction. Under the sunlight, his posture was tall and steady, filled with the quiet resolve unique to young soldiers.