Chapter 70 I Understand

Huo Yanli's car had driven less than two blocks when he suddenly made a U-turn.

The rain intensified, the wipers swishing rhythmically across the windshield. He remembered Song Zhiyi saying, "My old wound aches in the rain," her pale face, and the bottle of painkillers on the table.

The car stopped again in front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs dormitory building. Huo Yanli got out of the car and walked into the rain.

This time he didn't hesitate, went straight upstairs and knocked on the door.

The door opened. Song Zhiyi's eyes flashed with surprise when she saw him return: "Mr. Huo? Did you leave something behind?"

"No." Huo Yanli walked in, his hair and shoulders slightly damp from the rain. "I'll boil some hot water for you. Painkillers can upset your stomach; drinking something hot will help."

As he spoke, he walked straight to the small kitchen in the corner—which was actually just a simple countertop with an electric kettle and a few cups on it.

Song Zhiyi sat there, watching his retreating figure. Her expression was complex, a mixture of surprise and confusion, but it eventually settled into calm.

The water boiled. Huo Yanli poured a cup of hot water and placed it on her desk. Then, he inadvertently glanced at the content on the computer screen—

It was neither a working document from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs nor medical data, but a detailed plan entitled "Comprehensive Plan for the Construction of Temporary Schools and Psychological Assistance for Children in Conflict-Stricken Areas".

Several photos were also displayed on the screen: children sitting in makeshift tents in the ruins having class, a girl holding a tattered rag doll, and several boys kicking a "soccer ball" made of rags in an open space.

"What project are you working on?" Huo Yanli asked.

Song Zhiyi was silent for a few seconds, then said, "In my spare time, I help out with some things for my friend's non-governmental organization."

"What organization?"

“An international aid organization that primarily works on the protection and education of children in war-torn regions.” Her voice was soft. “I’m responsible for program design and resource coordination. I’ve been to some of these places and understand the local situation.”

Huo Yanli looked at her. Under the light, her profile was soft, but her eyes were firm. She was focused on the photos of the children on the screen, her fingers unconsciously tracing her wrist.

“These children…” Huo Yanli began, but didn’t know how to ask.

“Syria, Yemen, Afghanistan… it happens in many places,” Song Zhiyi said. “Their schools were bombed, their teachers were killed, and their textbooks were burned. But education cannot stop. If it stops, a generation will be ruined.”

She spoke calmly, but every word carried weight.

Huo Yanli thought of her parents—a diplomat and a peacekeeping doctor—who died in a war-torn region. She was only twelve years old then. Perhaps from that moment on, a certain obsession was planted in her heart: to prevent other children from experiencing the loss she had gone through.

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked.

“It all started when I joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs,” Song Zhiyi said. “At first, I just helped translate documents, then I participated in the design of plans, and now I’m in charge of the overall coordination of several projects.”

"The Ministry of Foreign Affairs is already very busy."

"So I do it in my spare time." She smiled slightly. "It's just a few hours less sleep, nothing."

It's just a matter of sleeping a few hours less.

Huo Yanli recalled the shadows under her eyes, her always straight back, and her calmly saying, "I'm used to it."

It turns out that what she was used to was not only pain, but also this kind of self-demanding dedication.

"Do you need any help?" he asked, his voice a little hoarse. "Funding, resources, or... anything else."

Song Zhiyi looked up at him earnestly: "Mr. Huo, thank you for your kindness. However, this project has strict independence requirements and does not accept funding from commercial organizations, so as not to affect its neutrality."

She refused decisively, but her attitude was sincere.

"Then what can I do?" Huo Yanli asked.

Song Zhiyi thought for a moment and said, "If you really want to help, you can focus on the issue of children's education. Chinese entrepreneurs have an influential voice in many international forums. If you can call on more people to pay attention to the right to education of children in war-torn regions, that would be a great help."

She was talking about "children's right to education," not "donations." What she wanted wasn't money, but a change in mindset and broader social attention.

Huo Yanli suddenly realized that he had been understanding her through a business lens—thinking that helping meant giving money, providing resources, and solving problems. But what she wanted was something deeper: understanding, acceptance, and shared values.

“I understand,” he said.

Song Zhiyi nodded and looked back at the screen. Her fingers tapped on the keyboard, modifying a detail in the plan. The light shone on her focused profile, making her look like a serene sculpture.

Huo Yanli stood behind her, watching her work. The rain pattered outside the window; the room was quiet except for the sound of typing.

He suddenly recalled many images: her composed translation at the negotiating table, her focused gaze during acupuncture, her resolute movements during first aid, and her skillful coordination at the Huo family banquet...

She is different in every scene, yet the same in every scene—she is doing what she believes she should do.

For her ideals, for her responsibilities, and for those beliefs she never spoke of but always held fast to.

"Song Zhiyi," Huo Yanli suddenly spoke.

"Hmm?" She didn't turn around; her fingers were still typing on the keyboard.

"Your injury..." he paused, "...besides your wrist, where else is it?"

The keyboard clicks stopped.

Song Zhiyi turned around and looked at him. The lamplight reflected in her eyes, creating a soft, shimmering light, but her gaze remained calm.

“There are a few,” she said softly, “but none of them are serious and don’t affect my life or work.”

How did you get hurt?

"When I'm working." Her answer was simple, without any details.

Huo Yanli knew she wouldn't say much. She was always like that, downplaying her pain and taking her sacrifices for granted.

"From now on..." he began, but found himself at a loss for words.

Try to avoid getting hurt in the future? That's impossible; the nature of her job inherently involves risks.

Take better care of your health in the future? She knew what to do.

"From now on... let me take care of you?" That's too sentimental, and she probably doesn't need it.

Seeing his hesitant expression, Song Zhiyi smiled slightly: "Mr. Huo, you don't need to worry. I will take good care of myself."

She spoke so naturally, as if she genuinely believed he could rest assured.

Huo Yanli nodded: "Then... I'm leaving. You should get some rest."

Okay. Be careful on the road.

He walked to the door, then looked back once more. Song Zhiyi had already returned to her work, her back straight and her eyes focused.

Close the door and go down the stairs.

The rain was still falling, but it had lessened a bit.

When he got into the car, Huo Yanli didn't start it immediately. He looked at the window on the third floor that was still lit, and thought of the photos he had just seen—children in the ruins, dilapidated tent classrooms, and a soccer ball made of rags.

I am also reminded of what Song Zhiyi said: "Education cannot stop. If it stops, a generation will be ruined."

He suddenly understood her "ambition for the mountains and rivers".

That wasn't just an empty slogan, but concrete action: save a child, build a temporary school, compile a set of teaching materials suitable for war-torn areas, and train a local teacher.

Little by little, we change the world that we can change.

In his previous world, there were only business empires, power struggles, and emotional entanglements.

In comparison, his world was too small.

Her ideals were too small to be contained within them.

Huo Yanli started the car and drove into the rainy night.

The wipers were still moving, but the sound no longer sounded monotonous.

Because something inside him is changing shape.

Like the earth after a spring rain, it begins to loosen, preparing to welcome new growth.

He knew that to keep up with her, he needed to change more than just his attitude toward marriage.

It is also a view of the world as a whole.

The definition of one's own life.

This road is very long.

But perhaps it's worth a try.