Lu Mingliang’s words made Liu Sanjin’s face go slightly pale. Ever since this kid came to live with them, she hadn’t liked him one bit. He was too sharp-eyed and shifty, and could talk his way out of anything.

“Mingliang’s still young and doesn’t understand things,” Liu Sanjin said through gritted teeth, trying to sound sweet. “I’m telling you, life isn’t easy for anyone. If your father hadn’t done so well in the military, we’d be struggling to put food on the table.”

“But—but, Grandma,” Lu Mingliang protested, “Third Uncle and Grandpa are working outside the village, Fourth Uncle is a warehouse keeper, and Second Uncle can still work on the field. So… we’re not really struggling for food, are we?”

Liu Sanjin: “…”

This brat was making her head spin!

“Oh, Shen meng is here! Third Aunt, you’d better read that letter before it gets dark. Looks like my dinner’s ready, so I’ll get going.”

“Third Aunt can’t even read, so it’s useless to have the letter.”

“Alright, I’m heading home too—need to get water before it’s too late. Third Aunt, you shouldn’t give Shen meng such a hard time. You treat her like your own daughter, after all. We all know you care about her health, so just talk things out calmly.”

Liu Sanjin felt a pang of frustration as several of the villagers left, one by one. Usually, no matter what, she was the one receiving praise and sympathy. But today, because of a few loose words from these two kids and that wretch Shen Meng, suddenly she was in the wrong. Just a bunch of meddling fools!

“I can read,” Uncle Guai said with a touch of pride. “I even attended the literacy classes. Let me have that letter, Zhenping’s wife, and I’ll read it for your mother-in-law.”

“Sure, Uncle Guai.”

Shen Meng handed the letter to him, and after clearing his throat, Uncle Guai began to read, while Liu Sanjin watched him intently.

“Meng,” he read, “I hope this letter finds you well. It’s been two months since I last wrote. Did you get the allowance I sent last month? Are the children alright? If you have the chance, could you take them to the county photography studio for a family picture? I miss you all very much. How are Father and Mother? My best regards to them.”

After he finished reading, the silence was deafening. The entire page had only five words referring to Liu Sanjin and Lu Changzhu—and only in passing. Some of the villagers started to wonder. Lu Zhenping had a cool exterior but a warm heart, so why was he so cold toward his parents?

Liu Sanjin, too furious to care about Uncle Guai’s attempt to comfort her, turned on her heel and stormed off, moving even faster than she had arrived.

Humiliating—absolutely humiliating! Years of carefully built reputation, gone in an instant. Everyone in Lujiacun Village knew her eldest son was a soldier doing well in the army, sending allowances every month, even helping to support his parents before the family had officially split. The older folks had always envied her for it, and now this letter felt like a slap in the face, loud and clear.

When she reached home, she climbed onto the kang and sat there, seething. She muttered to herself, clutching the blanket in her hands. This had to be that little tramp Shen Meng’s doing! She must have written to Zhenping, poisoning him against her. Otherwise, how could her dutiful son possibly have grown so distant?

Driven by her anger, Liu Sanjin leaped off the kang to find Lu Jiaxuan. She’d get him to help write a letter to her son, and she’d tell him exactly what was going on with Shen Meng.

---

On the Yunnan border, Lu Zhenping was sitting on the parallel bars in the training grounds, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he gazed at the moon. A strong wind blew, at his back before he swung down, grabbed the parallel bars, and caught his “attacker” mid-air, twisting him down to the ground with a single move.

“Ouch! Ahh! Lu, that was brutal—my back nearly gave out!” gasped Ma Xiang, groaning as he lay on the ground.

Lu Zhenping frowned, then reached down to help him up.

“What are you doing out here, messing around at this hour?”

Ma Xiang grinned and rubbed his back. “I just saw you out here, sitting all alone, looking all lovesick and lost. Figured I’d come cheer you up so you wouldn’t end up crying!”

“Pfft!”

“Tsk, you don’t even appreciate it. Come on, you miss your wife and kids, but every time it’s your turn to get a housing allocation, you give it up. And last year, when you were all packed and ready to go, you traded shifts with Xiao Gu. Just admit it—you’re the only guy around here who’d pull that kind of self-sacrificing stunt! But it’s your own fault, Zhenping. Your youngest son is three now, and you haven’t even seen him. All that selflessness has left you right where you are!”

Lu Zhenping glanced at him and started searching his pockets for a cigarette, only to find his pack was empty. Ma Xiang chuckled and shook his head.

“Out of smokes? Say so earlier, I’ve got some. Don’t tell me you blew all your allowance helping other folks again. You’ve got a whole family to support, remember? Your wife’s just a young woman, raising four kids on her own. Even when she was pregnant, you were not around. Poor thing probably regrets marrying such an absentee husband.”

For once, Lu Zhenping didn’t snap back. His thoughts drifted to Shen Meng—his bright, clever-eyed bride from years ago. She’d had a sharp wit and a quick smile, and had grown up with honest parents who treated him warmly. He remembered how her father and mother had welcomed him with genuine kindness. He’d trusted that any child raised in such a home would be good-hearted too.

Over the years, Shen Meng must’ve endured a lot. And every time his mother complained about his wife or the kids in her letters, he hadn’t believed a word of it. He knew all too well what kind of people his parents were. Lu Zhanghong’s letters filled in most of the details, and it was clear that his clever Shen Meng looked smart, but was actually a fool. She was deceived by his mother and her eyesight was lame. She probably couldn’t tell good from bad now.

“You’re right. My wife has it hard. This year, when my leave comes up, nobody’s taking my place.”

As Ma Xiang heard him, a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders. He nodded, serious for once, and said, “Sergeant, don’t carry it all alone. This job we have—defending the country—it demands sacrifices. There will always be blood, sweat, and even loss. You don’t have to save everyone, sir. Don’t shoulder more than you have to.”

Lu Zhenping gave him a sharp look before clapping him twice on the shoulder.

“Alright, Sergeant Ma. Let’s go. How about a kilometer run without any gear? Last one there owes drinks!”

Ma Xiang didn’t wait for the signal, breaking into a sprint. “On your marks!”

“You’re cheating, you old fox!” Lu Zhenping called, hot on his heels.

Before they got far, a sentry’s flashlight swept over them, illuminating two senior officers—one a vice commander, the other a staff officer—scurrying off like a pair of mischievous schoolboys.