“Su Huaiyuan, Qiao Jiuru, Cai Qingwen, Liao Quanwei, Yuan Yongfang, you’ve got mail.”

Just before the end of the workday, Bai Lianshan came over holding a few letters, reading out the names on the envelopes as he walked.

But wait—how come there’s a letter for Su Huaiyuan?

And even more surprising, one for Qiao Jiuru?!

Qiao Jiuru and Su Huaiyuan were both puzzled, wondering who could have written to them.

The only ones they could think of were their youngest son, Su Feng, Lu Baoguo, or Zhang Hong—likely two of those three.

But when Bai Lianshan handed them three letters, the couple found it even stranger.

Two were addressed to Qiao Jiuru, and one to Su Huaiyuan.

Qiao Jiuru’s letters were from Qiongdao (Hainan Island) and the capital city (Beijing).

Su Huaiyuan’s letter—unsurprisingly—was from the capital.

“It’s a letter from Xiaofeng!”

They had been here for almost two months now, and there had been no word from Su Feng.

Naturally, both Qiao Jiuru and Su Huaiyuan were anxious and worried. Unfortunately, they didn’t know his exact address or how to send him a letter.

“Hurry, let’s see what Xiaofeng wrote.”

Su Huaiyuan, usually calm and composed, was visibly excited and urged his wife to open the letter, eager to know how their youngest son was doing.

Qiao Jiuru didn’t need the reminder—her hands moved just as fast as his words, and she had already torn the letter open.

The couple leaned in together, heads almost touching, as they read the thick letter.

As they continued reading, both of their eyes began to redden.

“Dad, Mom, how is Xiaofeng? What did he say?”

Su Ze and Zhou Wanwan, standing to the side, looked at them anxiously.

Su Ze was practically leaning in, eager to read the letter himself.

“He said everything is fine. He’s settled down on the island now and working at a hospital there. Communication is tough on the island, so he asked us not to worry. He also asked how we’re doing and how Dabao and Xiaobao are. He said he’ll send us his salary, some ration tickets, and supplies next time.”

Qiao Jiuru wiped her eyes, handed the letter to her husband, and then calmly relayed the gist of the letter to their eldest son.

“That’s good. That’s very good. We’re doing fine—tell him to focus on his work.”

Hearing from his brother relieved Su Ze greatly. With the two brothers now far apart, they could no longer look after each other.

“Yes, tell Xiaofeng not to worry about us. He needs to take care of himself.”

Zhou Wanwan nodded quickly, sharing in the joy.

The place her brother-in-law had gone was far and remote—freer, perhaps, but certainly not ideal.

The other two letters from the capital weren’t suitable to read in the field. Qiao Jiuru tucked them away, planning to read them later at home.

Those who had received letters had already moved aside to read in private. Cai Qingwen and Zhou Meihua finished their letter as well—both had red eyes. Most likely, the letter was from their daughter.

Those who didn’t receive mail continued working quietly, though their hearts were stirred.

After all, no one here was without family—each had their own story, their own fate. The only ones who remained truly calm were old Grandpa Feng and his grandson.

As usual, Qiao Jiuru left ten minutes early with her two grandsons, holding their hands as they walked home to cook dinner.

But once home, she didn’t go straight to cooking. Instead, she opened the letter from the capital addressed to her.

She didn’t know who could’ve written it.

“Dear Niece Qiao…”

At the end of the letter, the sender signed: Song Xinmin.

Liu Mingliang had been sent down.

He was assigned to the very same farm where the Su family had been exiled in her previous life.

And his family had completely abandoned him. Wife gone, child gone—he was all alone.

That place… was no good.

Heaven has eyes.

Qiao Jiuru quietly read through the letter.

After she finished, she stored it away in her secret space.

A smile finally crept onto her face, and the knot in her chest seemed to ease.

This… could be considered a long-awaited revenge.