It is said that people gradually forget things before the age of three as they grow up, and very few people retain fragmented memories. Yan Zheng doesn't know if he is lucky or unlucky, but he happens to be one of those very few people.

—For my brother to eat.

—Brother, I want to play with a bear.

—What are you doing, brother?

Unlike other animals in nature, where females prioritize raising stronger offspring, the opposite is true in the human world. Mothers subconsciously favor weaker offspring, and Yan Zhao is such an example.

Perhaps out of guilt for not giving him a healthy body, his mother focused all her attention on him.

Even before she could walk, Yan Zhao knew how to manipulate every subtle atmosphere in the house. Whether her mother was hungry, thirsty, or crying, it all determined her mood at night.

Under his mother's personal guidance, two-year-old Yan Zhao had already learned addition and subtraction within ten, and even his usually stern father would occasionally show some loving looks towards them.

After all, being a mathematics professor and having a mathematically gifted son is a source of great pride for the entire compound.

Compared to his sickly but precocious younger brother, Yan Zheng's intelligence seemed insignificant.

When Yan Zheng was three years old, his grandmother took him to the hospital. The ward was crowded, and he was too short; even the hospital's children's bed was too high for him.

He didn't see Yan Zhao's final appearance, only her father standing silently by the hospital bed and her mother lying on the bed crying so hard she couldn't get up. Her aunt and maternal aunt were supporting her, and all the relatives in the ward seemed unable to bear to see this scene.

Grandma let go of him, and Yan Zheng could only stand silently in a corner of the ward. Someone knocked over his younger brother's teddy bear on the window, and it fell to the ground and was kicked around. Yan Zheng went over and hugged it tightly.

He didn't understand what death was at that time; he only knew that Yan Zhao was dead.

Since then, his mother's health and spirits have declined, and she often mispronounces his name.

The father's mood worsened, probably because he believed that since they were twins, if one was a genius, the other would also be a genius, as long as they were properly nurtured.

Although Yan Zheng was already much better than his peers at the time, it was clear that his level did not meet a mathematics professor's understanding of genius, so he began to transfer this anxiety elsewhere.

For example, alcohol, and violence.

As Jiang Xi stirred the medicine in the kettle, she listened. No wonder Mother Yan left so early; she hadn't expected this past event.

Yan Zheng took out bowls and chopsticks, served each person a bowl of sweet potato rice, and continued, "You might subconsciously think that I shouldn't like my brother, but on the contrary, when I was little, what I thought most was that it would be great if he were still here."

“Sometimes I even have the illusion that he is right next to me.”

The curtain was lifted.

Jiang Xi turned around and saw Yan Jing'an leading the fawn into the cave. She quickly put down her spoon and went over to help lift the curtain higher.

Yan Zheng stopped talking and put the food on the table.

Yan Jing'an looked at the braised mixed fish on the table and instantly felt less tired, so he sat down on the straw mat.

Yan Zheng frowned and scolded, "Go wash your hands, aren't you dirty?"

Only then did he reluctantly get up to wash his hands.

You're so clean, it really makes you stand out.

The mixed fish were fried until crispy and tender, with a natural brownish-red color. After being braised, the fish meat with tiger-skin patterns absorbed the broth. Yan Jing'an picked up a piece and put it in his mouth, but he ate too quickly and coughed a few times.

Jiang Xi and Yan Zheng exchanged a glance. In this desolate wilderness, especially in winter, catching a cold was no joke.

Jiang Xi hesitated for a moment before asking, "Yan Jing'an, have you been feeling unwell lately?"

Yan Jing'an stopped eating, looked up at the two of them, and said, "You mean coughing?"

Then he said nonchalantly, "It's an old problem that flares up when it's cold. It's nothing, it'll be fine in the spring."

Yan Zheng swallowed the morel mushroom in his mouth: "How did you end up with this problem? Didn't you get it properly treated?"

Yan Jing'an thought for a moment and said, "I was born with poor health. Later, I got pneumonia. Even after I recovered, it left a lingering problem. I tend to cough when it gets cold."

The speaker meant no harm, but the listener took it to heart; Yan Zheng's hand holding the chopsticks trembled slightly.

Jiang Xi was also taken aback; wasn't this Yan Zhao's past?

She lowered her head and asked Yan Jing'an casually, "By the way, do you have a younger brother or an older brother?"

Yan Jing'an was picking out fish bones when he heard this, and without thinking, he replied, "Brother."

Upon hearing this, Yan Zheng suddenly made a self-deprecating laugh, tightened his jaw, and said, "I'm full, you guys eat."

After saying that, he led the deer to the back door.

Jiang Xi put down the bowl and poured out the tangerine peel and licorice soup from the pot, which made exactly one bowl.

She handed the medicinal soup to Yan Jing'an: "Here, drink this."

Yan Jing'an frowned: "What is this?"

"Tangpi and licorice soup, for stopping coughs." She pointed in Yan Zheng's direction and said, "He asked me to make it for you."

Jiang Xi put on her cloak, then grabbed Yan Zheng's as well and headed for the back door, leaving behind the words, "Wash the dishes after you finish eating."

Yan Zheng was sitting on the bathing platform in the wooden house, with a deer chewing on hay beside him. He stroked the deer's head intermittently.

When she arrived, Yan Zheng reached out his hand to her. Jiang Xi walked over and took his hand, but before she knew it, he pulled her into his arms. Jiang Xi sat on his lap, her whole body held tightly in his embrace. He still smelled of burning firewood.

Yan Zheng held her tightly, resting his chin on the top of her head, remaining silent without saying a word.

But Jiang Xi could sense his distress; a sense of loss, like something melting into the air, surrounded the man in front of her.

She really wasn't good at comforting people. Even though she could sense his sadness, she still didn't know what to say. Jiang Xi gripped her arm tightly, regretting her poor communication skills.

Yan Zheng remained silent for a long time before speaking: "I thought they only loved their younger brother because they felt sorry for him, and that's why they were so strict with me after his death. But in fact, all they ever needed was Yan Zhao. As long as Yan Zhao was alive, they could become loving fathers and mothers."

His voice was hoarse: "In the end, I'm just the one who adds the finishing touch to the twins."

Jiang Xi felt heartbroken as she listened: "It's okay, you have me now, I will love you very, very much and make it up to you."

She recalled Yan Tongqing's words on the phone that day: "Do you love him? Maybe you do. I'm planning for him and paving the way for him."

But all this love comes with conditions, or rather, these people love themselves more, and they love the children who bring them honor more. She couldn't understand how to define this kind of family affection.

**

They remained embracing until Jiang Xi sneezed. Only then did Yan Zheng belatedly realize what was happening. He tightened her cloak, took her hand, and led her back to the inner room.

Before going to bed, he added a few more pieces of firewood to the earthen stove.