Professor Gu Anbang of the Chinese Weapons Research Institute is in his sixties.
Born in the 1950s, he often says that he grew up alongside the nation.
They endured various technological blockades imposed by foreign countries. Relying solely on themselves, they gradually built the country into the prosperous and powerful nation it is today.
Whenever Gu Anbang thought about this, he felt an overwhelming sense of pride.
At sixty, Gu Anbang had long reached the age of retirement, but he couldn’t bear to leave behind the work he had devoted most of his life to. So, he transferred to logistics, handling some less critical tasks.
For example, he would check the institute’s public email inbox every day.
Today, Gu Anbang, as usual, powered on his computer and brewed himself a pot of tea. His taste in tea hadn’t changed in ten years—he liked loose tea leaves that left bits in his mouth, the kind that made you want to spit them out.
Sipping the hot tea, he couldn’t help but recall his mentor, the man who had dedicated his entire life to the country’s weapons program.
Unfortunately, that old man had suffered too much hardship in his early years and never recovered properly. He passed away prematurely. Otherwise, seeing China’s current state, one could only imagine how happy he would have been.
Gu Anbang was filled with nostalgia and emotion. He put on his glasses and sat down in front of the computer. But when he looked up, he was stunned.
His computer’s screen had changed. The original serene background of green mountains and clear waters had been replaced by a black backdrop featuring a little girl clutching an unidentified wooden rifle. The girl looked just like one of the cartoon characters from his granddaughter’s schoolbooks.
What was most surprising was the red scarf fluttering around the girl’s neck.
Next to her was a speech bubble as white as a cloud, inside which were plump, cartoonish red characters: "I’m Red Scarf Student! Hurry up and check your inbox! If you don’t, I’ll get mad!"
The tea Gu Anbang hadn’t swallowed yet suddenly slid down his throat unexpectedly, triggering a violent coughing fit.
His coughing quickly drew the attention of the staff in the adjacent cubicle. Seeing Gu Anbang gasping and nearly fainting, they were shocked.
One of them rushed over while pulling out a phone to make a call.
By then, Gu Anbang’s coughing had mostly subsided. He waved his hand at the staff and said, “Little Li, get the cybersecurity team here. My computer’s been infected with a virus.”
Little Li’s face instantly turned pale. The Weapons Research Institute was no ordinary place—it was under the nation’s highest confidentiality protocols. Security and cybersecurity here were extremely strict.
Especially cybersecurity, which had been receiving even more attention from higher-ups in recent years. Just a few days ago, the network department had completed an upgrade. The firewall was thoroughly reinforced, and according to their previous tests, even the most elite hackers couldn’t break in!
“I’ll call them right now.” This was no trivial matter! If any information leaked, it would jeopardize national security!
Gu Anbang didn’t rush to touch the computer. He finally stopped coughing and stared deeply at the screen, as if trying to see a flower bloom from the machine before him.
Little Li’s call had barely lasted two minutes when the people from the Network Security Department arrived. To work in this unit, one must possess solid professional knowledge and impeccable work ethic. Their expressions were stern, not a word was spoken. They set down their tools and immediately got to work.
Fingers flew across the keyboard. The only sound in the silent office was the tapping of keys. Their eyes remained fixed intently on the computer screens before them.
Every member of the security team was burning with indignation! A hacker had successfully infiltrated their network and left a mocking trace on the computer. To them, this was a blatant slap in the face—a clear sign that someone didn’t take them seriously.
There’s no such thing as a wall that doesn’t leak. In a few days, when this incident became public, how would their sister units ridicule them?
But their work had only just begun when the screen on Gu Anbang’s computer suddenly changed. The little girl carrying a wooden crate started to move.
She blinked, raised her hand, and waved goodbye. Then the screen quickly darkened and shrank. The computer returned to its original state. Before anyone could react, the screen changed again. The email interface popped up on its own, automatically opening the message Lin Xi had sent.
Then it froze completely before disappearing altogether.
The Network Security Department’s director’s face flushed red with anger. These were top experts in the industry who had always prided themselves on guarding the institute’s network so well that not a single letter could slip in.
Now their reputation was being shattered.
“Trace it immediately!” the director barked, and the security team sprang back into action.
Someone was already trying to delete that email.
“Stop! Stop everything! Don’t touch a thing!” a sharp shout startled everyone.
The person about to delete the email froze, finger hovering over the delete key.
Gu Anbang shot up from his seat. “Who deleted the email? Get it back right now. Hurry, or face the consequences!”
He sat back down, eyes glued to the computer screen, fully engrossed in the unfolding situation. When the email opened, he casually glanced at it but was instantly captivated by the weapon design blueprints inside.
He stared at them as if spellbound, his mind racing to analyze and deduce. Then, with a sudden “pop,” the email vanished.
Gu Anbang couldn’t stand it anymore. The feeling was like being starved for days and then having a bowl of braised pork suddenly placed before him—he was completely obsessed. Just as he was about to dig in, the pork was snatched away by a dog.
He was furious beyond words.
At that moment, word of the breach spread through the institute’s departments, and people started arriving one after another.
Gu Anbang’s office quickly filled with a crowd.
“Gu Lao, what’s going on?” Director Yang was originally on his way to a meeting but had only gotten halfway when he received news that the institute’s network had been breached. He didn’t even bother with the meeting and rushed back in his car, running three or four red lights along the way.
By the time he arrived, panting at the door, he caught Gu Anbang’s roar and felt his heart leap into his throat.
Gu Anbang nodded in greeting but didn’t stop to respond. He quickly walked over to stand behind the head of the Cybersecurity Department.
The head of the Cybersecurity Department had spent half his life working at the research institute. Judging by Gu Anbang’s attitude, he immediately realized that this email wasn’t the virus they had feared.
His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately began searching for the deleted email. It was still there, not completely erased. The department head let out a relieved sigh.
Seeing this, Gu Anbang relaxed and then sat back down in front of his computer. “You all come take a look at this email. Director Yang, you too.”
A crowd quickly gathered behind Gu Anbang. They were all experts in weaponry, and just a glance was enough for them to see the significance.
No one could tear their eyes away. Some were even trembling with excitement.
“So this is how it can be designed—not only more powerful but also significantly lighter to use.”
Director Yang had also climbed the ranks step by step within the institute. Silently, he pulled a bottle of fast-acting heart medicine from his briefcase and handed it out to his colleagues before stepping outside. He picked up the internal phone and began reporting to the highest authorities.
Within half an hour, one vehicle after another rolled into the research institute. At the same time, the country’s top programmers arrived.
They had received strict orders from above: they must track down the “Red Scarf Student” who had sent the message to the institute.
They worked busily, holding one meeting after another about this “Red Scarf Student” in different conference rooms. The national cybersecurity department also dispatched experts to investigate the true identity of the “Red Scarf Student.”
The entire upper echelon of Huaxia had been stirred into action because of Lin Xi.
***
Lin Xi drove her rented SUV out of Pingyuan City. Two hours later, she arrived at Daling Mountain Town. Daling Mountain Town was a border town—not bustling at all. Though called a town, standing on the street, one could see all the way to the end.
The buildings on both sides were no taller than three and a half stories, with some still made of mud. Since it wasn’t market day, the streets were sparsely populated. Approaching noon, Lin Xi stopped in front of a rice noodle shop and got out to buy a bowl of noodles.
The rice noodles in Dian Province were cooked with big pork bones and peas, resulting in a broth that was fragrant with a hint of sweetness.
The shop owner’s wife was watching TV. Seeing Lin Xi arrive, she washed her hands and scooped the noodles soaking in water into a bamboo strainer, then dipped them into boiling water.
Soon, she lifted the noodles out and placed them in a large ten-inch porcelain bowl. After asking Lin Xi’s preferences, she added a helping of spicy chicken and poured the pork bone and pea broth over it.
Lin Xi carried the bowl to a seasoning table nearby. According to her taste, she added chopped scallions, cilantro, pickled vegetables, blanched cabbage, and chives. Then she mixed in bright red chili oil, ground Sichuan pepper, salt, and MSG.
The aroma hit Lin Xi immediately.
She placed the bowl on the wooden table tiled with ceramic and picked up her chopsticks, digging in with big, eager bites.
The noodles were perfectly chewy and tender. The spicy chicken was dry yet fragrant, with a numbing spice. The pickled vegetables were crisp and fresh. The chives and cabbage each had their own distinct flavor, and the chili oil delivered a satisfying kick.
Lin Xi wiped the sweat from her brow as she ate. During this time, several people came into the shop.
They were from an ethnic minority and spoke a language Lin Xi couldn’t understand. Then they took out lunch boxes and served colorful glutinous rice to share among themselves.
Watching them eat, Lin Xi suddenly craved some too. Come to think of it, she hadn’t had colorful glutinous rice for a whole year. Seeing the people at the table opposite put the rice into their mouths, Lin Xi couldn’t help but start imagining the taste of the colorful glutinous rice.
It had to be sticky and soft. Although there was no sugar added, she was certain a faint floral fragrance would greet her palate. Chewing the glutinous rice, after the floral aroma faded, the natural sweetness of the rice would linger deep inside. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to eat it.
This craving rose up inside her and wouldn’t go away. When paying the bill, Lin Xi specifically asked the shop owner, and after getting a positive answer, she headed toward the town center.
According to the shop owner, an old lady sold it in the town center. Five yuan could buy a bowl. There were all kinds of colors to choose from, and the rice could be packed in plastic food bags or in containers brought from home.
Lin Xi didn’t have a container, but she ordered ten portions, planning to deliver them to her group members tomorrow and keep the rest to enjoy slowly herself.
After buying the glutinous rice, she went to the small supermarket across the street. Before long, she came out carrying two boxes of milk, a bag of fruits, and a bag of snacks.
Yao Xiran had mentioned that her sister married early and had children early as well. In the year Lin Xi had traveled back to, her sister was pregnant again, and now the child was over two years old. Including the earlier children, Yao Xiran’s sister was already a mother of three. Although Yao Xiran despised Hu San, she had no ill feelings toward Yao Yuran’s children.
Later, during their casual chat, Yao Xiran also told Lin Xi about her two nephews. They were both very good kids, nothing like their father.
After putting the items in the trunk, Lin Xi turned off the main street and onto a side road. Both Yao Xiran’s and Yao Yuran’s hometowns could be reached by this road.
Over the years, as the country grew wealthier, infrastructure improved steadily, and even the mountain paths were paved with concrete.
Though narrow, the road was wide enough for a single car to pass through without issue.
Lingdashan Town was vast and heavily forested. At first, there were still some fields on either side of the road, but the further she went, the more desolate it became. Alone in such a place, Lin Xi placed the weapons Lin Duxi had delivered within easy reach and drove with extra caution.
Twenty minutes later, she stopped at the entrance of a village marked “Yushu Village.”
This village was built along the mountainside, with houses arranged in terraces, each one higher than the last. The construction was similar to Lin Xi’s home, a combination of stone and wood.
At the foot of the village was a row of trees. The weather was good today, and many people sat beneath them, busy with their work while chatting. Several children ran around them.
Lin Xi stopped her car in front of them. “Grandma, how do I get to Yao Yuran’s house?”
Yao Xiran had said that Yao Yuran married into this village.
The elderly women looked at her blankly for a moment. “Young girl, are you sure you’ve come to the right place? There’s no one by that name in our village.”
This was a reply Lin Xi never expected, but she didn’t give up: “She came to this village from Shangyao Village. She used to have a younger sister who’s now in college.”
In some of the more remote mountain villages, once a girl gets married, it’s as if she loses her original name and family identity. Except for a few close relatives, hardly anyone calls her by her real name.
It was clear that the village Yao Yuran married into was just like this.
The elderly woman who had just spoken to Lin Xi wore a pink headscarf embroidered with big peony flowers. Hearing Lin Xi’s words, she suddenly understood and nodded: “You’re talking about Hu San’s wife. Who exactly is Lin Xi, and what’s she here for?”
The old lady gave Lin Xi a thorough once-over. Lin Xi was fashionably dressed, pretty, and even drove a car. Yao Yuran had been married in Yushu Village for over ten years and rarely even went to the market outside. When had she ever had such a stylish friend?
Everyone around who heard the old lady’s words stopped their previous conversations and all subtly glanced at Lin Xi.
It was as if she were a rare and exotic sight.
“I used to work with her at the same factory. She told me her family lived here, so I just came over sightseeing. I thought I’d drop by and see her.”
Over the past ten years, Yao Yuran hadn’t stayed in the village all the time. In the first few years after marrying the old bachelor, the family was so poor after having a child that she had to go out and work with others in the village.
But she didn’t work for long before the old bachelor called her back. He was afraid she’d run off and refuse to return.
Before the old lady could respond, someone nearby said, “Hey, that’s true. Hu San’s wife did go to work with my daughter-in-law.”
“But my daughter-in-law thought the factory wages were too low, so she went out to do mountain labor instead. She didn’t go into the factory with her.”
Mountain labor meant physically demanding jobs like planting or cutting trees—work that paid quickly but was extremely tough. Usually, couples worked together on these jobs.
For someone like Yao Yuran, working alone was a real disadvantage because she couldn’t keep up with a couple working side by side.
The old lady thought about it carefully and realized it was true. She stood up, holding a half-embroidered shoe insole.
“Hu San’s family lives right next to mine. I’ll take you there.”
“Alright, thank you, Granny.” Lin Xi pulled her car over to the side of the road, got out, grabbed her things from the trunk, and followed the old lady.
As the two walked away, whispers started behind them.
“Oh, it’s been so long. That young lady must be about the same age as Hu San’s wife back then? She must be over thirty now? But she still looks so young,” someone said with amazement.
“That’s because she’s from the city. They don’t have to worry about food or money. Of course, she looks young!” another chimed in.
“True. Your daughter-in-law moved to the town, and she looked younger the last time she came back too,” another added.
“That’s all makeup. Her mouth looks like she’s eaten a baby—so seductive,” one woman said, her words dripping with disdain, revealing the mother-in-law’s dislike for her daughter-in-law.
“Kids these days are all like that...”
The topic shifted like that, drifting farther away, and Lin Xi could no longer hear the conversation behind her.
Granny Zhang, who was guiding Lin Xi, was remarkably familiar and friendly. She introduced herself as Zhang and told Lin Xi to call her Granny Zhang. While introducing herself, she also tried to gather information about Lin Xi.
Lin Xi told a mix of truths and lies, and in return, she managed to extract quite a bit from Granny Zhang.
They followed the winding village path uphill, and before long, they reached the halfway point on the mountain. Lin Xi looked back and saw her car, and under the tree opposite her vehicle, she spotted the grandmothers chatting.
But what stretched out even more were layer upon layer of forested mountains.
Blue skies and white clouds, green hills and clear waters—the scenery was beautiful, yet these mountains felt like cages, imprisoning generations upon generations of people.
Granny Zhang knocked on the wooden door of the first house by the roadside. “Hu San’s wife! Hu San’s wife!”
“Coming!” A voice answered quickly from inside. Within two minutes, footsteps approached, and the door was opened.
A woman holding a child appeared before Lin Xi.
She was very thin, her complexion pale and waxy. Her hair was neatly combed, but the left side of her temple was slightly disheveled—probably from the child tugging at it.
Her clothes looked like something from the 1990s—a dark orchid-colored suit jacket, with a red sweater underneath. Judging by the stitching and texture, the sweater was hand-knitted by herself.
Yao Xiran had said that her older sister was two years her senior. When she time-traveled, she was twenty-one. She had been in the interstellar era for five years, but in the real world, only about two and a half years had passed.
Yao Yuran was only about twenty-five or twenty-six, but her current appearance made her look closer to thirty-five or thirty-six.
“Mom,” the little girl in Yao Yuran’s arms whispered softly, drawing everyone’s attention.
The child she held wore a faded red cotton jacket. Her small face was framed by unusually large eyes. She seemed a bit shy and turned to cling tightly to her mother.
Granny Zhang fixed her gaze on Yao Yuran. “Hu San’s wife, this little girl says she used to be your coworker when you went out to work. She heard your family lives here and came to visit while traveling nearby.”
Yao Yuran was momentarily stunned, her eyes settling on Lin Xi. Those few months working away from home had been the happiest and most carefree of her life.
When times got tough after returning, Yao Yuran often recalled that period fondly, missing the people she met during those working days.
She was certain none of her old coworkers looked like this striking young woman. Yet, this girl knew her name and even her home address.
In that instant, Yao Yuran’s mind raced with thoughts, and she hugged her daughter tighter.
Just as she was about to speak, Lin Xi said, “Yuran sister, don’t you recognize me? I’m Lin Xi. My family lives near Dian University. You even told me your sister was planning to apply to that university too.”
At the mention of “sister,” Yao Yuran paused, closely studying Lin Xi. Lin Xi was about the same age as her sister, Yao Xiran.
Yao Xiran’s eyes reddened for a moment as she glanced at Granny Zhang beside her. Granny Zhang said, “Xiao Xi, so many years have passed, and you’ve changed so much from before—I almost didn’t recognize you.”
Lin Xi picked up the thread, “Yeah, back then I was still in school, working summer jobs during the holidays. Dark and skinny. Now I’ve been out of college for two years and have started working.”
Yao Yuran’s gaze toward Lin Xi shifted completely. If her sister hadn’t had that accident, she too would have graduated two years ago.
Seeing that Yao Yuran truly knew Lin Xi, Granny Zhang prepared to leave. “You two chat away, young lady. My home is just next door—come over for a meal later.”
Granny Zhang’s words were polite, and Lin Xi smiled warmly in response. Granny Zhang took her shoe pad and headed next door.
Yao Yuran stepped aside, letting Lin Xi into the courtyard.
The courtyard wasn’t large; the floor was cemented just like most homes. Around the corners, many flowers and plants grew.
Several pieces of clothing hung on the clothesline strung across the middle of the yard. Yao Xiran went into the main room and brought out two wooden stools, placing them on the porch, then busied herself fetching water.
Lin Xi set down the things she was holding next to a wooden pillar on the porch.
The little girl in her arms was now put down, sitting a short distance away from Lin Xi, holding a biscuit—taking a bite, then glancing at Lin Xi.
The phone’s notification sound rang out. Lin Xi checked it—it was a message from Yao Xiran.
She had been shipping goods until midnight last night and had just woken up. The first thing she did upon waking was to check in with Lin Xi.
Lin Xi picked up her phone and quietly snapped a photo of Yao Yuran, who was carrying a bowl as she came out.
Looking at the photo, Yao Xiran’s nose tingled with emotion—her sister, who had always been especially loving toward her since childhood.
According to Lin Xi, her sister was only twenty-six years old, but she looked so worn out. Every time she received money for living expenses from her sister, Yao Xiran vowed to make sure her sister lived a good life.
Unfortunately, before that day came, she suffered an unforeseen tragedy. Now, seeing her sister, she felt deeply sorry.
Since crossing over, the guilt toward her sister had lingered in Yao Xiran’s heart. At this moment, she was immensely grateful for the existence of the chat group—and even more grateful that Lin Xi was part of it.
Because of their presence, her regrets finally had a chance to be healed.
Yao Yuran paid no attention to Lin Xi’s actions. She took a taller stool, placed the water on it, and sat down somewhat shyly beside her.
The little girl, seeing her mother arrive, immediately ran over and snuggled into Yao Yuran’s arms.
“I heard from Aunt Wu that you came all the way from Pingyuan, driving such a long distance—are you tired? Have some water.” After a pause, Yao Yuran added, “It’s boiled.”
The midday sun was blazing. Daling Mountain, being closer to the Middle East side, was at least a degree hotter than Pingyuan. She had taken off the cotton jacket she wore when she left in the morning and was now just in a sweater.
Just after coming up from the foot of the mountain, it felt a bit warm. Lin Xi rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, revealing her fair wrists, adorned with the bracelet she had recently gotten.
"I'm really thirsty," Lin Xi said, lifting the water to her lips. The water was just the right temperature—warm and slightly sweet.
Seeing Lin Xi drink, Yao Yuran’s sallow face broke into a smile, though a trace of hesitation still lingered.
Lin Xi looked at the child in Yao Yuran’s arms. "How old is she? What's her name?"
"Her name is Hu Mingyue. She's two and a half years old," Yao Yuran replied, a gentle warmth softening her face as she spoke of her daughter.
"She’s beautiful, just like Xiran," Lin Xi said, though she had never seen a photo of Yao Xiran in this lifetime. Still, that didn’t stop her from making a casual remark.
Yao Yuran paused for a moment, then touched Hu Mingyue’s face and smiled. "Yes, everyone says she looks like her aunt. That’s good—like her aunt, smart. Maybe she’ll go to university one day, become a college student."
In the small town of Daling, education wasn’t highly valued. Most parents thought, "If they can study, great; if not, they’ll just go out to work."
Of course, this mindset mostly applied to boys. For girls, the general expectation was to finish elementary school—just enough to read and count—so they wouldn’t be easily deceived when out in the world.
As girls moved from elementary to middle school, their numbers dwindled. Even fewer continued on to high school.
Girls who didn’t continue their studies were often considered ready for marriage. Suitors would come knocking, and if matched, the girl would be married off immediately.
Most of these marriages were just arrangements to get by. When things became unbearable, the woman would either run away and never return or get a divorce.
Lin Xi had known this reality since she was a child. That was why she was deeply grateful to her grandparents. She was lucky—her grandparents never clipped her wings.
Yao Xiran was lucky too, but in a different way. Her parents had clipped her wings, but her sister, battered and bleeding, still helped her put her wings back on.
"Education is important," Lin Xi said with a smile.
Yao Yuran nodded. "Your aunt says the same." Thinking of her sister, a dull ache stirred in her heart.
Changing the subject, Lin Xi reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope.
She had bought it earlier that morning at the post office across the street. Inside was ten thousand yuan in cash, money Yao Xiran had asked her to deliver after assigning her a task the night before.
"I'm classmates with Xiran. Before she got into trouble, we co-developed a software together. We agreed to split the profits fifty-fifty. The software only started generating revenue this year."
"Xiran once told me that you supported her through her studies. After graduation, the thing she wanted most was to repay you."
"She gave me her home address before. As soon as the profit was credited yesterday, I came right away."
Yao Yuran’s education ended in elementary school—she was called back home before finishing third grade to help with chores. She didn’t understand anything about software. Even now, she didn’t know what the mechanical engineering department her sister studied was all about.
Yao Yuran had explained it to her before, but she still couldn’t remember it. Machinery and those kinds of things were just too far removed from Yao Yuran’s world—like a castle in the air, forever out of reach.
It wasn’t her fault. Yao Yuran only knew that ten thousand yuan was a lot of money.
Her family were farmers. When it wasn’t busy season, her husband worked odd jobs with the village construction crew. All year round, they could only save about five thousand yuan.
That ten thousand yuan would take her family two years to save.
Her family’s money wasn’t managed by Yao Yuran. She had never held ten thousand yuan in her hands in her whole life.
When she worked for three months, she earned only six thousand yuan, but that money never stayed with her for long—it was taken by her husband.
Everyone wants money, but Yao Yuran still pushed the money back to Lin Xi. “This is too much. I can’t accept it.”
Yao Yuran said, “I don’t want anything in return from Xiran. I’m supporting her education because I want her to get out, to leave this mountain behind. I don’t want her to live a life like mine, one where you can see the end from the very beginning.”
Yao Yuran hadn’t had much schooling, but she was born with a strong spirit. These thoughts seemed to come naturally to her.
She wanted to study. She rebelled, but was beaten harshly. As the eldest daughter in her family, she was expected to make way for her younger siblings.
Day after day, she worked the fields. Her little sister always followed closely behind her. When she was beaten, her tiny sister would shield her.
Though both of them were beaten in the end, Yao Yuran felt fortunate. The year she was married off, her sister held her hand, urging her to run away.
But she didn’t run. She got married because she knew that if she ran away, in a couple of years, her younger sister would be forced to marry off to pay for the brother’s debts.
Yao Yuran didn’t think of herself as a great person. Back then, the thing she wanted most was to leave the Yao family, to leave her parents.
To leave everything at home that made her feel suffocated.
Supporting Yao Xiran’s education was a promise she made with her husband, but after she married in, he went back on his word.
“This is my promise to Xiran. You keep it. If you don’t want it, I’ll have to give it to Xiran’s parents,” Lin Xi said.
Yao Yuran fell silent. She hated her own parents and brothers. Her sister was stabbed to death at school, and her parents took money from the other family and wrote a letter of forgiveness.
They took two hundred thousand yuan. They used the money to build a two-story house in the village, but they wouldn’t even collect her sister’s body. They said things like, “Those who die violently can’t be buried at home,” and “Unmarried daughters can’t be buried in the ancestral grave.”
It was Yao Yuran who went to get her sister’s ashes. Yao Xiran was buried on the mountain behind their house. Sometimes when she felt bitter or lonely, she would go there and talk to her.
Anyone had the right to take this ten thousand yuan—her parents did not.
“Besides, Xiran said your two children will be starting middle school soon. There are costs everywhere. You should take it,” Lin Xi said.
Thinking of her own son and daughter about to start school, Yao Yuran nodded.
Lin Xi had finally completed the task given by Yao Xiran. Her robot hadn’t been taken for nothing. Lin Xi smiled to herself.
She gave Hu Mingyue a gentle pat on the shoulder. Hu Mingyue smiled back at Lin Xi before nestling into Yao Yuran’s arms.
Lin Xi also decided it was time to leave. Yao Yuran put some money in the room and warmly invited Lin Xi to stay for a meal.
No matter how many times Lin Xi declined, Yao Yuran wouldn’t take no for an answer. As soon as she put the child down, she went to the chicken coop and, before long, caught a chicken.
She grabbed a cleaver and went into the kitchen. In just a few swift strokes, the chicken was killed.
Now, Lin Xi couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. She simply went over to help Yao Yuran with the chores.
Yao Yuran’s daughter was easy to soothe. A single piece of candy was enough to make her happy. She wasn’t so afraid of Lin Xi anymore.
Lin Xi asked about Yao Yuran’s life, mainly about how Yao Yuran’s husband treated her.
“Just the usual. A few years ago, he used to hit me. To be honest, I was beaten so badly that my body was covered in bruises—purple and blue patches everywhere, not a single spot left unmarked.”
“He didn’t give me any money, and he didn’t want to go out to work. He just stayed at home all day, doing nothing. But the past two years have been better. He’s been somewhat decent to me, hasn’t hit me for a long time.”
“He’s gone out to work now. He’s with the village construction crew, earning over four thousand yuan a month.”
Compared to the life she had before, Yao Yuran felt that things were pretty good now.
“Don’t you plan to get a divorce?” Lin Xi asked softly.
Yao Yuran didn’t answer but looked at Hu Mingyue. At that moment, Lin Xi understood everything.
She was tied down by her child. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a divorce or that she was truly satisfied with her life now. She was just painfully numb, choosing to dull her feelings for the sake of her child.
Lin Xi felt a tightness in her chest, as if she couldn’t breathe. Faced with this situation, she suddenly didn’t know what to do.
Maybe Yao Xiran didn’t know either, which was why she only asked Lin Xi to come and check on them, to send money. Because she knew that when someone’s heart is burdened with worries, no amount of persuasion can change them.
After a moment of silence, Lin Xi said to Yao Yuran, “I’ll leave you a phone number later. If you ever run into any difficulties, you can call me.”
It was 2020, and Yao Yuran didn’t even have an old-fashioned phone.
She was only twenty-five years old. It felt as if life had just begun to bloom, only to wither away already.
“Okay,” Yao Yuran didn’t refuse, but she thought to herself that maybe she would never make that call in her life.
They weren’t relatives or close friends. The only bond between them was someone who had passed away many years ago. For Yao Yuran to come all this way, to deliver this unknown sum of money, was already a kindness.
Why should she trouble someone any further?
After the chicken was plucked and cleaned, Yao Yuran chopped it up and cooked it. After they ate, Yao Yuran took her sickle, held her child, and led Lin Xi to pay respects to Yao Xiran.
By the time they came down from the mountain, it was already four in the afternoon. Lin Xi said her goodbyes and left. Yao Yuran walked her to the village entrance, watching her disappear into the distance.
Winter nights fell early. By the time Lin Xi reached Daling Mountain Town, it was already dark. She didn’t rush home. Just now, at Yao Yuran’s house, she had seen several pieces of children’s clothing.
They were small, old, and ill-fitting—probably all handed down from others.
Lin Xi was thinking of buying a few sets of clothes tomorrow to send over—just a small token of her care.
There was an inn in Daling Mountain Town, and Lin Xi picked the largest-looking one and booked a room. The room had a private bathroom, the bedding was fairly clean, and there was no unpleasant smell. It cost fifty yuan for the night.
After chatting for a while in the group chat, Lin Xi fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, Lin Xi was abruptly awakened by the relentless ringing of her phone. She woke up to see an unfamiliar number calling.
She answered, and a somewhat familiar voice came through: “Is this Lin Xi? The former coworker of Hu San’s wife?”
It was Grandma Zhang. Still a bit sleepy, Lin Xi instantly snapped awake and sat up in bed. “Yes, yes, that’s me.”
Grandma Zhang’s voice was unusually loud on the phone: “Here’s the situation—tonight Hu San came back after drinking a bit outside. When he got home, he started beating his wife without any reason.”
“This time it’s pretty serious. She has a big gash on her head, and her hand looks crooked too. Most of the young people in our village are working far away.”
“The only relative with a car is from Da Zhuang’s family, but he had something come up and didn’t come back tonight. So I was thinking, you haven’t gone too far, right? If not, could you take her to the hospital?”
As soon as Lin Xi realized it was Grandma Zhang calling, she’d already put the call on speakerphone and was getting dressed.
After hearing Grandma Zhang’s words, she replied with a quick “Okay,” zipped up her jacket, and headed out the door.
On her way downstairs, she sent a message to Yao Xiran.
Yao Xiran had just finished selling a batch of organic fruits and vegetables. At the same time Lin Xi messaged her, Yao Xiran was dealing with the loose ends trying to trace her identity through the Star Network. It wasn’t until the interstellar era that Yao Xiran discovered she actually had a knack for hacking.
Seeing Lin Xi’s message, Yao Xiran immediately exploded with anger, recalling the brutal scenes when her own sister was beaten.
She fumed: [Interstellar Wanderer Yao Xiran: Lin Xi, please help me save my sister. Also, do you take gigs as a hired fighter? I want you to teach that bastard a serious lesson.]
