The morning mist of late autumn had not completely dissipated, and a thin layer of white frost covered the dirt road of the Hongqi Production Brigade, making a crunching sound underfoot. The old locust tree in the Shen family's courtyard had lost most of its leaves, and its bare branches stretched towards the gray sky. Only the clump of wild chrysanthemums in the corner of the yard stubbornly bloomed, with glistening dewdrops on its tender yellow petals, like a handful of broken diamonds.
The corn porridge in the kitchen had just been cooked, its aroma, mingled with the steam, wafting from the cracks in the pot lid and filling the entire room. Lin Wanqiu stirred the last spoonful of sugar into her bowl, the porridge in the white porcelain bowl gleaming an enticing pale yellow. In the rising steam, her profile appeared softer, though a lingering frown remained between her brows. Shen Tingzhou held his bowl, sipping it slowly, his gaze occasionally drifting towards her. His Adam's apple bobbed; he wanted to say something, but fearing he might offend her, he swallowed his words.
"Mom, I'm done eating!" Nian'an ran to Lin Wanqiu's side, holding the empty bowl, his little face tilted up, a ring of paste still stuck to the corner of his mouth, like a kitten that had stolen some honey. Lin Wanqiu smiled helplessly, picked up a handkerchief and gently wiped the residue from the corner of his mouth. Her fingertips touched the child's warm cheek, and the hard part of her heart quietly softened.
"Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you." Her voice softened, and she reached out to pat Nian'an's head. "Don't run around right after you've eaten, or you'll get a stomachache."
Nian'an nodded obediently, but his eyes darted around, looking at Shen Tingzhou. He remembered his parents' cold war last night, and he also remembered his father's tears in the west room this morning. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. He tugged at Lin Wanqiu's sleeve, pointed at Shen Tingzhou, and whispered, "Mom, Dad said yesterday he would teach me how to play with a slingshot. Shall we go to the yard?"
Lin Wanqiu paused, her gaze falling on Shen Tingzhou. He immediately put down his bowl, his eyes brightening, and quickly chimed in, "Yes, I agreed with Nian'an yesterday to teach him how to catch sparrows, not far away, just in the yard." Afraid that Lin Wanqiu might disagree, he added, "I'll watch over him and make sure he doesn't get cold."
Lin Wanqiu was silent for a moment, and looking at Nian An's expectant eyes, she finally couldn't bear to refuse. She got up, took Nian An's cotton-padded coat, helped him button it up, and tucked in his collar before saying, "Don't play for too long. It's windy outside, and you'll catch a cold and get a fever."
"Okay!" Nian'an cheered and grabbed Shen Tingzhou's hand, running into the yard. Shen Tingzhou glanced back at Lin Wanqiu, his eyes filled with gratitude and a hint of caution, like a child who had received permission.
Lin Wanqiu stood at the kitchen doorway, watching the backs of the father and son, her heart filled with mixed emotions. She wasn't unaware of Shen Tingzhou's predicament, and she knew his "sacrifice" years ago was for the mission. But those days of enduring alone, those nights running through the snow with Nian'an in her arms, those grievances inflicted by her in-laws—they were like thorns, stuck in her heart, not easily removed. She leaned against the doorframe, still clutching the dishcloth she had used to wipe the dishes, her fingers unconsciously twisting it, her gaze following the figures in the yard, lingering for a long time.
In the courtyard, Shen Tingzhou retrieved the slingshot from the woodshed. He had made it from a locust tree branch, the bow smooth and rounded, the rubber band cut from an old bicycle inner tube—sturdy and durable. He squatted down, handed the slingshot to Nian'an, and then took a few smooth pebbles from his pocket, placing them in Nian'an's palm.
“Come on, let Daddy teach you how to hold it.” Shen Tingzhou held Nian’an’s little hand, adjusting his posture. “Your fingers should be hooked like this. When you aim, your eyes should be on the target, hold your breath, and then gently pull—” As he spoke, he helped Nian’an loosen the rubber band. “Let go!”
The pebble flew out with a "whoosh" and landed on the trunk of the old locust tree with a soft "thud." Nian'an clapped her hands excitedly: "Dad, I did it! I'll try again!"
Shen Tingzhou smiled and nodded, his heart warming as he looked at the child's earnest expression. He recalled when Nian'an was born, he was still in the army and could only learn about the child through letters. Later, he "sacrificed his life" and never even saw the child's face, let alone played with him. Now, being able to spend time with the child like this, teaching him to play with a slingshot, and hearing his clear laughter—this kind of ordinary happiness was something he never dared to dream of while in the army.
"Dad, look! There's a sparrow over there!" Nian'an suddenly pointed to the locust tree branch and whispered. Shen Tingzhou looked in the direction he was pointing and saw a gray sparrow perched on the branch, pecking at insects in the crevices of the tree. He quickly pressed down on Nian'an's shoulder and whispered, "Don't make a sound, aim slowly."
Nian'an held his breath, his small hands gripping the slingshot tightly, his eyes fixed on the sparrow, adjusting his posture little by little. Shen Tingzhou watched from the side, feeling both nervous and expectant, just like when he was aiming at a target in the army. He quietly adjusted Nian'an's arm, helping him aim: "A little more off, yes, right there, hold on—"
"Whoosh!" The pebble flew out, but unfortunately it missed the sparrow, only startling it into flapping its wings and flying away. Nian'an was a little disappointed, hanging her head: "Sigh, missed again."
Shen Tingzhou ruffled his hair and comforted him, "It's okay, it's already great that you did this well for your first time. When I was your age, I couldn't even hold a slingshot properly." He picked up a small stone from the ground and handed it to Nian'an, "Let's try again. This time, let's aim at the scar on the tree trunk, okay?"
Nian'an looked up and saw a round scar on the tree trunk, like a small target, and immediately perked up. He raised his slingshot again and aimed carefully. Shen Tingzhou watched from the side, his gaze occasionally drifting towards Lin Wanqiu at the kitchen door. He saw her standing there, not coming over, but watching them, and a glimmer of hope rose in his heart.
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