He pulled a neatly folded red notebook from his pocket and handed it to Lin Wanqiu. It was an officer's ID card; the five-pointed star on the cover gleamed coldly under the light. Inside was a photo of him in military uniform, younger than he was now, with eyes as sharp as a drawn sword. Below the photo were his name and rank—one rank higher than his rank before his "sacrifice."
Lin Wanqiu didn't take it, but stared at the military officer's ID card, her eyes gradually filling with tears. She thought of the past six months, of when he first "came back," and she told him about the hardships of the past, and he just silently helped her chop wood and carry water; of when she took out flour from her spatial storage to make steamed buns, and when he asked, she only said it was "secretly sent by her family," and he didn't press her for details; of the neighbors saying, "Shen Tingzhou is lucky to have survived," and he just laughed it off... It turned out that all the gentleness and tacit understanding of these past days were built on deception.
"Protect us?" Lin Wanqiu's voice was choked with sobs, yet it carried a chilling sarcasm. "Do you know how Nian'an and I survived those two years when you 'sacrificed' yourself? Old Mrs. Shen hid the pension money and made me drink corn porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it every day. Nian'an was as thin as a stick, and in winter he didn't even have a decent cotton-padded coat. His hands were so cold they cracked, and he even had trouble holding chopsticks!"
She suddenly stood up, pointed towards the inner room, and finally couldn't hold back her tears: "Do you know, once Nian'an had a high fever, and I didn't have money to call a doctor, so I could only carry him and run through the snow to the clinic more than ten miles away to find an old traditional Chinese medicine doctor. On the way, he was delirious with fever, calling out 'Dad, I'm cold.' At that time, I felt that I was a useless mother, unable to even protect my own child! Do you know any of this?"
She had never told these words to anyone, not even Shen Tingzhou. She thought all the suffering was over, that her family could finally live a good life, but his confession ripped open those long-buried wounds, revealing their raw, bloody interior. It turned out that his so-called "protection" was just letting her and her child struggle in hell while he lived a life she knew nothing about in the shadows.
Shen Tingzhou's shoulders slumped, his face filled with pain and guilt. He wanted to explain, to say that he thought of Nian'an and her child every day while on his mission, to say that he had tried to sneak back to see them several times but was stopped by the organization, to say how much it hurt him to see Nian'an's thin and frail appearance—but the words wouldn't come out. Because he knew that any explanation would seem pale and powerless in the face of the suffering she and her child had endured.
“I know… I’m sorry to you and your child,” he said, his voice choked with emotion, his eyes reddening. “After the mission, I wanted to come back immediately, but the organization ordered me to continue hiding my identity and investigating suspicious points from the mission—a spy might have infiltrated the vicinity of our commune. I was afraid of exposing my identity and also afraid of scaring you, so I didn’t dare to tell the truth, thinking I would explain to you slowly after the investigation was completed…”
"Investigating suspicious points?" Lin Wanqiu interrupted him, wiping away tears that kept falling. "So you've been back for so long, leaving early and returning late every day, not to help the team with work, but to investigate? Aren't you afraid that while you're investigating, Nian'an and I will be in danger again? Have you ever thought that what we need is not your so-called 'protection,' but a real husband, a father who can be by our child's side?"
She looked at Shen Tingzhou, feeling as if her heart had been hollowed out. This man was her only support after her rebirth, the one she wanted to spend her life with, yet he shattered all her expectations in the cruelest way. She remembered them planting vegetables together in the garden, making little toys for Nian'an, and planning their future together under the lamplight—those warm scenes now seemed like a false dream.
The wind outside grew stronger, rattling the windows. The kerosene lamp flickered, casting long shadows of the two people, yet separating them by an insurmountable distance. Lin Wanqiu wiped away her tears, her voice regaining its calmness, yet tinged with detachment: "Go away. I want to be alone."
“Late Autumn, I…” Shen Tingzhou wanted to say something, but was interrupted by her cold gaze.
“It’s no use saying anything now,” Lin Wanqiu turned around, her back to him. “Nian’an is still young, and I don’t want him to see us like this. Go to the west room and sleep. We can talk about it tomorrow.”
Her voice lacked its usual gentleness, replaced only by a cold weariness. Watching her retreating figure, Shen Tingzhou felt a thousand-pound weight pressing on his heart; even breathing ached. He knew she needed time to calm down, and he knew the mistake he had made couldn't be made up for with just an "I'm sorry." He silently picked up the needle and thread and thimble from the kang (heated brick bed), placed them on the table, glanced again towards the inner room, and then slowly walked out of the main room towards the deserted west room.
After Shen Tingzhou's footsteps faded away, Lin Wanqiu slowly turned around, looking at the empty main room. The kerosene lamp's light was still dim, and the corn porridge on the table had gone cold, just like her heart at that moment. She walked to the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), looked at Nian'an sleeping soundly in the inner room, reached out and gently touched his cheek, and tears welled up in her eyes again.
What should she do? Forgive him? But the suffering she endured, the days of being deceived, are like a thorn stuck in her heart, impossible to remove. Should she not forgive him? He is Nian'an's father, her only family after her rebirth. Can she truly let go of everything?
The night grew deeper, the wind still howled outside the window, and Lin Wanqiu sat on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed), sleepless all night. She knew that from the moment Shen Tingzhou confessed, everything between them had changed. And this cold war, started by deception, had only just begun.
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