The next day, the sun was high in the sky, and the air was filled with the unique, dry scent of the Great Northern Wilderness, a mixture of soil, grass, and some kind of primal vitality.
Howard left early in the morning and didn't return until almost noon, followed by a creaking cart.
The cart was piled high with things.
The most eye-catching thing was a brand-new wardrobe that smelled strongly of tung oil and paint.
The cabinet is made of thick pine wood, heavy and solid, with a bright and eye-catching vermilion paint on the surface. It shines brightly in the summer sun, like a solidified fire.
Two square, gleaming glass mirrors are embedded in the cabinet doors, reflecting the blue sky, white clouds, and the earthen-yellow walls of the family compound.
Next to the wardrobe was a sleek rattan rocking chair. The dark brown rattan was tightly and sturdily woven, the armrests were polished smooth and rounded, and the backrest had a just-right curve. You could tell at a glance that it would be very comfortable to sit in.
Behind the cart were several other items: a natural wood bookshelf that exuded the fresh scent of wood; several stacks of thick white paper and a whole box of sharpened drawing pencils; and a thick, large-format booklet carefully bound in cardboard with neat squares printed on the cover.
This is grid drawing paper specifically designed for drawing and sketching.
"Give me a hand!" Howard called to the cart driver, and the two of them worked together to carefully lift the heavy vermilion wardrobe into the main room against the wall.
The heavy cabinet legs landed on the muddy ground with a dull thud, and the whole house seemed to tremble.
Next came the rocking chair, the bookshelf... everything was arranged one by one.
Howard wiped the glistening beads of sweat from his forehead; the back of his military green shirt was soaked.
Without even taking a breath, he turned around and pulled out a large package carefully wrapped in thick kraft paper from the bottom of the cart.
He walked up to Mingzhao, who had been quietly watching since the cart entered the room, and handed her the package. His voice, slightly panting from exercise, was unusually gentle: "Here, put your new clothes in the closet. Don't wear those old ones anymore."
Mingzhao's gaze shifted from the dazzling red wardrobe to the package Howard handed her. She hesitated for a moment before taking it, her slender fingers outstretched.
The package was heavy, and the inside was made of soft fabric.
She didn't immediately put the clothes away, but instead held the package and slowly scanned the newly added items in the room.
The crimson wardrobe was like a huge, warm magnet; the rattan rocking chair gleamed with a warm luster in the beam of light streaming in from the doorway; the bookshelf exuded a pleasant woody scent, its empty shelves seeming to await the filling of knowledge; brand-new paper and pens, and that thick, grid-sheet drawing book.
Her gaze finally settled on Howard. He was sweating, and the top button of his military shirt was undone, revealing a tanned, muscular neck.
He was bending down to carefully place the last few pencils into the pencil holder on his desk, his profile appearing particularly sharp and focused in the light and shadow.
An extremely unfamiliar yet incredibly clear emotion, like a tiny seed, sprouted and quickly grew in Mingzhao's empty heart.
The feeling was warm and swollen, making her heart, which had been beating steadily in her chest, seem to quicken its pace a little.
She walked up to Howard, carrying the bag of new clothes, and tilted her head slightly.
Those beautiful eyes, which always carried a hint of emptiness and detachment, were now shining with an astonishing brightness.
She looked at Howard for several seconds, as if confirming something, and then, in an unusually clear, even somewhat solemn tone, spoke, word by word:
“Howard,” she called his name, paused as if searching for the most accurate word, “you are a good person.”
The sound wasn't loud, but it seemed to carry a peculiar rhythm, striking Howard's heart clearly.
Howard abruptly stopped tidying up his pencils.
He straightened up and looked down at the little girl in front of him, somewhat taken aback.
She held the package, her little face tilted up, her eyes shining incredibly, filled with utter seriousness and a kind of... almost pious affirmation.
The phrase "You're a good person," spoken by her, was devoid of any politeness or worldliness, so pure that it left him speechless.
An indescribable surge of heat rushed up Howard's throat, making his heart ache and soften.
He looked into her bright eyes, and at that moment, her usually expressionless face clearly reflected an emotion called "happiness".
This emotion was so pure and so open that it made the iron-blooded regimental commander, who remained unfazed even in the midst of gunfire, feel a rare sense of unease and...being flattered.
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but found his throat was a little dry.
Admit it, Howard, you're already quite satisfied with just one word: "good person."
In the end, he simply raised his large hand, his calloused fingertips gently and clumsily stroking Mingzhao's soft hair, as if soothing a small animal that had finally put away its thorns.
"Nonsense." He said the two words softly, his voice a little hoarse, with a smile and doting affection that he himself didn't realize.
He pointed to the large vermilion wardrobe, "Hurry up and put the clothes in, leave the door open to let the smell dissipate."
Mingzhao nodded vigorously, hugged her new clothes, and walked briskly toward the large, fiery red wardrobe.
She opened the cabinet door, and a fresh smell of paint and wood wafted out.
She carefully placed the bag of clothes inside, her fingers tracing the smooth cabinet walls and the cool glass mirror. Then she closed the door, walked to the wicker rocking chair, and curiously poked the dense wicker with her finger.
Howard watched her circle around the new furniture like a kitten that had finally found a new toy, and the smile in his eyes deepened. He walked to the desk, picked up the thick, grid-patterned sketchbook, and was quite pleased with the sturdy texture of the paper.
He then picked up a sharpened pencil and casually drew a few straight lines in the blank space of the paper, the ink marks clear and smooth.
"From now on, use this notebook for drawing." He handed the notebook and pencil to Mingzhao, who happened to be walking over.
Mingzhao took the notebook and opened it.
The pristine white graph paper exuded a faint scent of pulp; each small square was perfectly square, awaiting the filling of lines and data. She then glanced at the perfectly sharpened pencil in her hand.
This is... her tool.
She looked up at Howard again, her eyes shining even brighter.
This time, she didn't say "good person," but simply nodded vigorously again. The trust and satisfaction in her eyes were almost overflowing.
Howard felt a surge of warmth in his heart. Just as he was about to say something more, a commotion suddenly erupted outside the yard, accompanied by the sounds of shovels digging and bricks colliding.
"Commander Huo! Is Commander Huo here? Our construction team is here!" A loud voice rang out outside the courtyard gate.
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