The truck, laden with the fresh scent of new clothes and the sweet aroma of pastries and candies, drove into the military compound shrouded in twilight.

Howard carried two heavy net bags in one hand and subconsciously supported Mingzhao's back with the other, helping her jump down from the back of the car.

The afterglow of the setting sun cast long shadows of the two, and the air was filled with a sense of contentment and a sense of fulfillment.

Pushing open the door to courtyard number 17, Howard placed two large nets on the old octagonal table in the main room, making a dull thud.

Mingzhao's gaze immediately fell on the open bag of sponge cakes, their golden color still tempting even in the dim light.

"Shall we put things away first?" Howard said, picking up the bag of sponge cakes and handing it to Mingzhao. "Put this inside, and make sure the cabinet doors are closed so ants don't get in."

His voice carried a hint of barely perceptible ease and satisfaction, as if the small shopping spree at the supply and marketing cooperative had just washed away the gloom of the past few days.

Mingzhao obediently accepted the cake, held it in her arms as if it were a rare treasure, and turned to walk towards the bedroom.

"Mingzhao," Howard called out to her.

Mingzhao stopped and turned around, her clear gaze questioning him.

The warm glow of the setting sun outlined her slender figure, and the pale pink scar on her forehead appeared particularly soft in the twilight.

Howard looked at her, his Adam's apple bobbing. The thought that had been lingering in his mind for a long time became exceptionally clear at this moment.

He walked up to her, his voice soft and pleading: "Put your things away... Shall we go see Minglang?"

The name "Minglang" is like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, creating a barely perceptible ripple in Mingzhao's clear eyes.

Her fingers tightened slightly as she held the cake, her face remaining calm and expressionless. She neither nodded nor shook her head, but simply looked at Howard in silence.

In Howard's view, this silence was a form of silent resistance and bewilderment.

He recalled Dr. Miyazaki's words and the possible social impairments and emotional withdrawal associated with "genius syndrome".

I also remembered Minglang's words before he fell into a coma, "Take good care of my cousin," and his repeated inquiries and worries after he woke up.

Howard felt a slight pang in his heart. He sighed, didn't urge them, but pulled up a chair from the table and sat down, gesturing for Mingzhao to sit down as well.

Mingzhao hesitated for a moment, then sat opposite him, holding the cake, like a quiet porcelain doll waiting for instructions.

“Mingzhao,” Howard’s voice was low and gentle, as if telling a distant story, “Minglang… he is your cousin. Your mother and his mother are sisters. Although you haven’t seen each other for many years, you are still connected by blood.”

Looking into Mingzhao's still bewildered eyes, he knew that the word "bloodline" might be too abstract for her.

He changed to a more specific way: "Minglang told me that he remembers you when you were little, you were about... this tall?"

Howard gestured above his knee with his hand, "She had two little braids, and her eyes curved like crescent moons when she smiled, so sweet. Every time he came to see you, you would run over with your short legs, jump into his arms, look up at him with your little face, and sweetly call him 'brother.'"

Howard's lips unconsciously curled into a warm smile, as if he could also see that lively and lovely little girl.

Mingzhao listened quietly, her fingers unconsciously tracing the texture of the parchment paper as she held the cake.

The scenes Howard described were nowhere to be found in her barren and chaotic fragments of memory.

The original owner Mingzhao's memories had long been covered by years of hunger, beatings, and other forms of abuse, leaving behind a desolate wasteland.

That little girl who could laugh and act cute was like a phantom from a strange planet to her.

Looking at Mingzhao's unresponsive face, the warm smile in Howard's heart slowly faded, replaced by a deeper heartache.

He couldn't imagine what kind of suffering could have transformed such a sweet and cheerful little girl into the taciturn, emotionally detached, and even scarred "genius syndrome" patient before him.

A strong protective instinct surged within me once again.

"Later... a lot of things happened."

Howard's voice lowered, tinged with heaviness, "Minglang went to the southern garrison, and later, your parents... He couldn't take good care of you, and he always felt guilty, feeling sorry for your mother. So this time, he took the initiative to apply for a transfer to the Northern Military Region, just to be closer to you, to... to make it up to you, to see you doing well."

He paused, looked into Mingzhao's eyes, and his tone became more earnest and solemn:

"He almost lost his life to save me on the battlefield this time."

Howard's voice was filled with undeniable gratitude and heaviness, "His last words before he fell into a coma were for me to find you and take care of you. Now he's awake, but his injuries haven't fully healed, and he's lying in the hospital, and the thing he misses most is you. He... really wants to see you."

Howard reached out, not to touch her head, but to gently place his hand on the back of her hand that was holding the cake.

The back of his hand was icy cold, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor. His palm was warm and dry, conveying a silent strength and a plea.

“I know you may not know how to face him, or what to say. That’s okay.”

Howard's voice was unusually gentle, with an almost coaxing patience, "Let's go see him, let him know you're alright, all right. Okay? Just consider it... doing me a favor, and also... thanking him for saving me?"

He invoked Minglang's life-saving grace and also made his own request.

This is almost "moral blackmail," but Howard knows that for someone like Mingzhao who follows logic and a responsible mindset, this may be the most effective reason.

——

The air in the ward carried the distinctive icy smell of disinfectant.

Minglang sat back on the hospital bed, his face still somewhat pale, but his spirits had improved considerably.

He was talking to Dr. Gongzhu, who was changing his dressing, with a bright and cheerful smile on his face. But the smile froze the moment he saw the person who appeared at the door.

Howard's tall figure appeared in the doorway, and then he turned slightly to reveal the slender figure behind him wearing a brand-new light blue floral polyester dress.

"Zhaozhao?"