Chapter 188: Chapter 188: Finally Home

Gu Qinghuan and her group arrived at the station in the afternoon. After a long, bumpy journey, they finally made it back to the commune. With so many people traveling together, nothing went wrong along the way, but all the transfers and moving about were truly exhausting.

Fortunately, the children were all very well-behaved, sticking closely to the adults without causing any trouble.

Several of the adults traveling with them had never been to such a remote rural area before. Ming Ruxue, in particular, couldn’t stop looking around, her eyes darting everywhere, taking in the sights.

With the New Year approaching, the commune was bustling with people. Ox carts and donkey carts from various villages were everywhere, coming to handle business. Gu Qinghuan found an uncle from Xujiatun driving an ox cart nearby and quietly slipped him fifty cents to give them a ride.

The uncle, pleased with the tip, let them hop on with a big smile, cheerfully declaring he was “serving the people.”

Lanting felt embarrassed to ride, so he walked behind the ox cart. The cart was already loaded with goods, and with a few more people and all their luggage, the old ox had quite a heavy load to pull.

Gu Qinghuan let him be. After all, boys should be toughened up—flowers grown in greenhouses just won’t do.

Walking along these unfamiliar country roads, Lanting suddenly felt a wave of nerves at returning home. He hadn’t seen his mother or grandparents in years and wondered how they’d changed. They probably only shared good news and kept the bad to themselves.

It was even colder in the countryside. Sitting on the ox cart, the biting wind cut right through them. Gu Qinghuan took out thick cotton coats from the luggage to wrap the children up and keep them from catching cold.

She’d come prepared, already wearing her thickest coat, with thermal underwear and pants underneath, so she wasn’t too cold.

Zhong Luoning and Ming Ruxue were also bundled up in thick cotton coats, looking like little bears.

The ox cart was far from comfortable. The bumpy ride made their bottoms sore.

Thankfully, they could sit on their luggage to make it a bit better.

Youran’s bright eyes darted around, as if asking, “Where are we?”

Big Bao, being the responsible older brother, took it upon himself to explain everything about the village to Youran.

By the time they reached Xujiatun, dusk was falling. The cold wind howled, and not a soul was seen outside. The kind-hearted uncle, perhaps feeling the weight of the fifty cents, insisted on dropping them off right at their doorstep.

Gu Qinghuan opened the courtyard gate. The group, cold and hungry, rushed eagerly into the yard.

The courtyard was cleaner than she’d expected. Not a speck of dust under the eaves—someone must have come by to tidy up. She didn’t have to guess; it had to be Zhong Zijun. The thought warmed Gu Qinghuan’s heart. So this is what it feels like to have a mother looking after you.

It was getting late, too late to notify Zhong Zijun. Gu Qinghuan quickly got everyone moving: first, get the heated brick bed going, then start dinner. The kids were so hungry their stomachs were practically touching their backs.

She’d been worried about firewood, since they’d missed the chance to gather kindling while away.

To her surprise, the woodshed out back was stacked full of firewood, with a neat pile of kindling as well—enough to last the winter.

She guessed it was most likely Brother Ji’s doing. With Zhong Zijun’s own workload, she’d be lucky to have enough firewood for herself, let alone gather extra for Gu Qinghuan.

She had to admit, her guess was spot on.

Ji Linhai heard noises from the house and came over to check. When he saw it was Gu Qinghuan, he didn’t even stop to say hello—he took a shortcut straight to the neighboring village to tell Zhong Zijun the news.

Ming Ruxue volunteered to carry firewood to the kitchen and start the fire, full of excitement. Gu Qinghuan was a bit worried she’d set the kitchen on fire, but Ming Ruxue assured her she’d learned how to build a fire during outdoor cookouts—no problem at all.

So, dinner preparations were left to Zhong Luoning and Ming Ruxue for the time being.

Gu Qinghuan took Lanting down to the cellar to fetch some food for dinner.

She’d already stashed a pile of food in her space, planning to sneak it out once they were in the cellar.

But to her surprise, the cellar was packed with vegetables—probably the harvest from their backyard, all carefully stored away.

It felt so good to know someone was thinking of them.

A wave of warmth washed over her.

Gu Qinghuan took the opportunity to bring out the food she’d prepared, then picked out a few vegetables and handed them up to Gu Lanting to take to the kitchen.

These were for Ming Ruxue and the others to cook with.

The children settled their little rabbits and played in the yard, building snowmen and having fun.

Gu Qinghuan started tidying up the rooms.

Zhong Zijun only had the key to the main gate, not the house itself, so the inside hadn’t been cleaned and was a bit dusty.

Which was just as well—otherwise, it would have given her away, since Gu Qinghuan had already emptied the house and stored everything in her space.

She quickly took things out of her space, cleaned the heated bed, and spread out blankets and quilts.

With so many people, she prepared an extra quilt.

There were only two heated beds in the house, so they’d have to squeeze in together. But that was normal in the Northeast—no one wanted to heat too many beds in winter. The whole family would crowd together, staying warm and saving firewood. The beds were big enough for everyone.

Big Bao saw her busy and automatically grabbed a little broom to sweep the floor—he’d always done this chore before.

Gu Qinghuan let him get on with it.

She was still tidying up when—

There was a knock at the door.

Gu Qinghuan wondered who could be visiting so late.

To her surprise, when she opened the door, it was Zhong Zijun.

Zhong Zijun had been eating dinner when Ji Linhai rushed over to say Gu Qinghuan was back. She didn’t even finish her meal, hurrying over with a pot of steamed multigrain buns and her homemade mushroom sauce.

Zhong Weiqian and Cheng Shuying had wanted to come too, but with the snow and the bad roads at night, Zhong Zijun worried they’d slip and fall, so she didn’t let them.

Mother and daughter embraced tightly, as if reunited after a long separation.

“Mom, how did you know I was back? I was just about to get settled and come find you a bit later, but you beat me to it!”

“How could I sit still once I heard you were back? I have to thank your Uncle Ji—he ran over especially to tell me.” Zhong Zijun looked back, but Ji Linhai was nowhere to be seen.

“Huh, he was just here a moment ago!”

Gu Qinghuan couldn’t help but laugh. The generations were all mixed up—they’d always called Ji Linhai “Brother Ji” and Old Ji “Uncle Ji.”

Now, Brother Ji had become Uncle, and Old Uncle Ji had become Grandpa. Oh well, nothing to be done—after all, Zhong Zijun and Ji Linhai were about the same age.

“Uncle Ji probably went home. It’s late—tomorrow I’ll go thank him properly. Come in, Mom, it’s cold outside.” Gu Qinghuan pulled her inside and closed the door.

“Yes, we really should thank him! Do you remember what I wrote in my last letter? We’ve relied on your Uncle Ji these past few months—he’s helped with all sorts of problems and chores. That Wang Cripple is busy with his own troubles now, so I’ve finally had some peace.

“Your Uncle Ji even gave us a lot of wild game. I’ve saved it all—tomorrow I’ll bring it over for you to cook for the kids.

“By the way, where are Huai’an and the children?”

As soon as she finished speaking, two little figures rushed over and threw themselves into her arms.

It was Big Bao and Beibei.

Zhong Zijun quickly handed her bundle to her daughter and scooped up the two little ones.

“Grandma!”

“Grandma, I missed you so much!” Beibei said sweetly.

“Grandma, I brought you roast duck from Beijing! I bought it with my own savings!” Big Bao looked up proudly, waiting for praise.

“Grandma, I brought you something tasty too—look, it’s chocolate!” Beibei hurriedly pulled out her gift from her pocket.

No wonder—on the way, Beibei kept taking out her chocolate to look at it, smiling sweetly. Gu Qinghuan had thought she just couldn’t bear to eat it, but it turned out to be a gift for Zhong Zijun.

Big Bao, too—before they left, he’d insisted that Lanting take him out, and came back with a little backpack he carried himself the whole way, never letting anyone else touch it. That, too, was a gift for Zhong Zijun.

Gu Qinghuan felt a surge of warmth. These two little ones were so thoughtful. When she’d impulsively become their stepmother and cared for them, she’d never expected anything in return.

Seeing this scene, she couldn’t help but feel she’d made the right choice. Both children were good—genuine kindness begets genuine kindness.

Zhong Zijun hadn’t expected that, after just a month together, the two little ones would remember to bring her gifts. Her heart was filled with an indescribable warmth.

People are unpredictable, she thought, but she was grateful her daughter hadn’t ended up like her, surrounded by greedy, ungrateful people. As the saying goes, “Three years old shows the man”—these two children were good, and with proper care, they’d turn out just fine.

She smiled as she accepted Beibei’s gift, hugging both children and looking them over carefully.

“Grandma loves it. Thank you, both of you are such good kids—you’ve both grown so much!”

With better nutrition these past few months, Big Bao and Beibei had both shot up.

Gu Qinghuan was about to say that Gu Lanting and Zhong Luoning had come too, when Lanting came out of the room.

“Jie, who’s here?” His voice came before he did.

Zhong Zijun froze, suddenly nervous, her eyes fixed on the doorway. If she wasn’t mistaken, that voice belonged to Lanting?

Though his voice had changed—no longer the childish tone she remembered, but deeper and more magnetic—she had a strong feeling.

It was Lanting, the son she hadn’t seen in over five years!"

"Chapter 189: A Mother’s Love Means Doing Her Best, Yet Still Feeling She Hasn’t Done Enough

The next moment, a tall, slender figure appeared at the doorway.

It was so dark that only a vague outline could be seen. In an instant, Zhong Zijun’s eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t speak, and rushed toward her son.

Gu Lanting, too, was overcome with emotion the moment he saw his mother. He ran forward and threw his arms around her thin frame.

Mother and son, reunited after a long separation, were both overwhelmed.

From a boy of eleven or twelve to a young man now taller than his mother, Gu Lanting had been through so much.

But so had Zhong Zijun.

Hardship makes people grow, but it’s nothing to celebrate.

“Mom, you’ve lost weight!” Gu Lanting choked out.

Zhong Zijun smiled through her tears and patted her son’s strong back. “Lanting, my son, you’ve grown up. That’s wonderful!”

I’m sorry I couldn’t be there as you grew up. But thankfully, you’ve still become a good person.

As a mother, there are endless words of apology she could say to her son, but in the end, a tight embrace said it all.

“Mom, as soon as my sister and I got your letter, we rushed back. Are you all right?” Gu Lanting remembered what was in the letter and quickly asked.

Zhong Zijun shook her head and wiped away her tears.

“It’s all fine now. You two must be exhausted from the journey. I brought some simple food—come, have something to eat.”

Zhong Luoning and Ming Ruxue, hearing the commotion outside, came out of the kitchen holding a kerosene lamp.

“Mom, I didn’t just bring Lanting back—there’s someone else too. Guess who? Ta-da!” Gu Qinghuan said playfully, stepping aside as Zhong Luoning led Youran out.

When Zhong Zijun was sent down to the countryside, Zhong Luoning was already grown and married, so she hadn’t changed much—just seemed a bit more melancholy.

By the light of the kerosene lamp, Zhong Zijun immediately recognized her niece.

“Luoning? And this must be little Youran? You’re here too! That’s wonderful!

Your grandparents will be so happy to see you. They were just insisting on coming with me, but the road was slippery, so I didn’t let them. They’ll definitely complain to me about it tonight.”

Unlike the guilt and sadness she felt toward Gu Lanting, seeing her niece Zhong Luoning again brought only joy and surprise.

“Aunt, it’s been so long. How are you? I hope we’re not imposing. Youran, say hello to great-aunt.” Zhong Luoning patiently prompted Youran to greet her.

Sure enough, Youran repeated “great-aunt,” and Zhong Zijun’s face lit up with smiles. She didn’t know about Youran’s situation—over the years, Zhong Luoning had only shared good news, not bad, keeping things from the family.

“Our little Youran has grown so much. What a good girl. I left in such a rush, I didn’t bring anything—next time I’ll bring you a proper gift.” Zhong Zijun stroked her cheek.

Youran, not fond of strangers’ touch, hid behind her mother.

Zhong Zijun just thought she was shy.

Given how sudden everything was, she didn’t think too much, just felt happy.

She didn’t wonder why Zhong Luoning, who had her own family, would come back to the Northeast with Gu Qinghuan at the end of the year.

Ming Ruxue, noticing Zhong Zijun hadn’t seen her, deliberately stood with her hands on her hips. “What about me? Zhong Mama, guess who I am?”

At first glance, Zhong Zijun really didn’t recognize her. This girl was pretty and dressed stylishly—there weren’t any relatives like her in the family, especially not ones who’d come all the way out to the countryside.

So Zhong Zijun hadn’t dared to guess.

But since she called her “Zhong Mama,” Zhong Zijun had a pretty good idea.

The only one who’d ever called her that was a little girl—Ming Cheng and Nan Sheng’s daughter.

Though she’d guessed, Zhong Zijun wanted to tease her.

“Such a beautiful young lady, I don’t remember you at all. Are you Lanting’s classmate?”

Ming Ruxue hadn’t expected that even after calling her “Zhong Mama,” she still didn’t guess. She shook her head, a little disappointed. “Guess again!”

Zhong Zijun couldn’t bear to see her disappointed.

“Haha, you’re little Ruxue, aren’t you? Nan Sheng’s little crybaby! You’ve grown so much in the blink of an eye. When did you come back from abroad? How are your parents?”

Ming Ruxue realized she was being teased and immediately brightened, giving Zhong Zijun a bear hug.

She was now even taller than Zhong Zijun.

“Zhong Mama, I missed you so much! All these years abroad, what I missed most was your cooking.

As soon as I got back, I couldn’t wait to find Qinghuan and eat at her place. She’s really inherited your skills—not only is she beautiful, she cooks well, and she takes great care of people.

My parents are fine, you know them—three hundred sixty-five days a year, they’re busy three hundred sixty-six of them, so they left me in Qinghuan’s care!”

Ming Ruxue’s flurry of compliments made Zhong Zijun laugh so hard she couldn’t look straight. The best way to flatter a mother is to praise her children.

“All right, since you’re all here, we can have a lively New Year together.” This year, they were well prepared, with plenty of supplies, firewood, and food. Her daughter also had ways to get things. Zhong Zijun felt much more relaxed.

If this had been a few years ago, she’d have been worried sick about so many guests—she could barely feed herself, let alone entertain others.

“By the way, where’s Huai’an? Why don’t I see him?” Zhong Zijun finally remembered her son-in-law.

Everyone was here except him. Zhong Zijun’s heart tightened—had something happened?

“He had some business to take care of in Beijing, so he couldn’t come back yet. Probably after the New Year,” Gu Qinghuan explained.

Zhong Zijun patted her chest in relief.

“That’s good. I thought something had happened to him—you scared me to death.

It’s cold out here, let’s go inside! I brought some mushroom sauce and steamed buns I made. Make do with these tonight, and tomorrow I’ll cook something better for you.” Zhong Zijun ushered everyone inside.

Zhong Luoning had already cooked a big pot of cornmeal porridge and stir-fried some cabbage and shredded potatoes.

With the steamed buns and mushroom sauce Zhong Zijun brought, the whole family ate their fill.

On the journey, the adults had saved all the good food for the kids, eating only dry rations and the awful boxed meals on the train—so bad they could barely swallow them.

Now, with a bowl of sweet, soft, rustic cornmeal porridge and some light side dishes, their stomachs finally felt comfortable.

Gu Lanting picked up one of his mother’s steamed buns, spread some mushroom sauce on it, and took a big bite. Delicious! With the porridge, he ate four or five buns in one go.

Zhong Zijun was stunned—since when could this boy eat so much?

She remembered when he was little, getting him to eat was always a struggle. Aunt Wu had to chase him around to feed him.

Now he could eat so much—being able to eat is a blessing. That’s good.

Thinking of this, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. Without a mother’s protection, the children had suffered so much. She truly felt sorry.

A mother’s love means doing her best, yet still feeling she hasn’t done enough.

—

Gu Qinghuan noticed her mother’s mood shift and nudged Gu Lanting under the table.

Gu Lanting saw his mother’s tearful eyes watching him eat and thought she wanted a bun, so he quickly handed her the one he’d just picked up. “Mom, you eat too.”

Gu Qinghuan covered her face—what a silly boy.

Boys really aren’t great at picking up on their mother’s feelings. Girls are so much better at that.

If she ever had kids, she’d want a daughter, not a silly boy.

Heavens, what nonsense—why was she even thinking about having kids? She must have been brainwashed by these children.

Raising a child is a huge responsibility. As people of their generation, they were responsible and respected their children’s feelings—perfect parents, but also the least likely to want to be parents.

If having a child only meant passing on hardship, poverty, and anxiety, then not having one was its own kind of kindness.

Zhong Zijun took the bun from her son and took a big bite. “Thank you, son.”

Gu Lanting gave her a clear, silly smile. Gu Qinghuan couldn’t even look—she hurried to eat.

The family ate their simple dinner, the children chattering to Zhong Zijun about their journey. The whole atmosphere was warm and cozy.

After dinner, it was completely dark outside. Snowflakes began to fall again. By morning, the world would be white once more.

Zhong Zijun wanted to go home, but Gu Qinghuan insisted she stay.

She didn’t feel safe letting her mother go home alone so late, and if she offered to walk her back, her mother would refuse. So she just had her stay the night—everyone was already squeezed in together; one more person wouldn’t matter.

The kang bed had been heated while they cooked. After a long day, everyone just wanted to crawl under the covers and get warm.

Gu Qinghuan boiled a big pot of water for everyone to soak their feet and relax.

No one cared about hygiene at this point—no one had athlete’s foot anyway. They filled the big wooden tub used for laundry with hot water, and the women and the two little girls, Youran and Beibei, all soaked their feet together, chatting and relaxing.

Gu Qinghuan added some spring water to the tub, making it extra soothing.

As for the boys, Lanting and Dabao, everyone unanimously banished them to use the small foot basin in the other room.

After soaking their feet, it was time to divide up the sleeping arrangements.

If not for Gu Lanting, the two kang beds would have been easy to sort out. But with a half-grown boy in the house—especially with Ming Ruxue, an unmarried young lady—they had to be careful.

In the end, Gu Qinghuan arranged it like this:

She would sleep with Beibei, Zhong Luoning with Youran, and Ming Ruxue—five people squeezed onto the kang she usually slept on.

But really, it was just three adults; the two kids barely took up any space. They’d need two big quilts, which Gu Qinghuan had already prepared.

Lanting, Dabao, and Zhong Zijun would share the other room.

With mother and son, there was no need to worry about propriety, especially with Dabao in the middle.

It was perfect—mother and son hadn’t seen each other in years and needed time to talk.

Zhong Zijun had no objections. As a mother, she hadn’t had a heart-to-heart with her son in ages, and with so many people around, it was hard to talk. Now she could use this time to really catch up and reconnect with him.

No one else minded either.

After not sleeping well on the train, everyone slept soundly that night.

On Gu Qinghuan’s side, the two kids fell asleep right away, and the three adults only chatted for a bit before drifting off.

On the other kang, Dabao fell asleep first, while mother and son talked for a long time—about their experiences over the years, about everything they’d been through. Gu Lanting held nothing back from his mother.

Though five years had passed, the bond between mother and son hadn’t faded. If anything, time had only made them cherish it more.

Unlike those rebellious boys who refuse to talk to their mothers, Gu Lanting had always had a natural admiration for his mother and was willing to communicate deeply with her, learning and benefiting from it.

Maybe it was because Zhong Zijun was a teacher—she knew how to listen to her children and how to educate them.

She’d always worked hard at her job, but in front of her children, she was never a killjoy. If she promised them something, she’d always find a way to make it happen.

She never forced her own opinions on her children or made them do things they didn’t like.

That’s why both her children were so close to her."

"Chapter 190: Escape from Danger

Xu Huaian was alone, leading dozens—nearly a hundred—men in circles through the mountains, going days and nights without sleep.

Even worse, he was running out of ammunition and supplies. Despite his careful use of weapons, his bullets were dwindling fast.

Food had run out long ago. He survived by relying on the skills he’d honed since childhood in the deep forests, occasionally foraging something to stave off hunger. When thirsty, he’d grab a handful of snow to eat.

At first, after eliminating enemies, he could scavenge some of their weapons and ammo.

But at some point, the enemy became vigilant. Whenever they retreated, they’d thoroughly clean the battlefield, leaving him with nothing to pick up.

Anyone else, enduring this without even a nap, would have collapsed by now. But thanks to the spiritual spring water Gu Qinghuan had prepared for him, he could quickly restore his strength and energy.

Whenever he truly couldn’t go on, he’d carefully sip a little, and soon regain some stamina and clarity.

He was like a human machine, never seeming to tire, always on high alert. This even confused the enemy; they thought they were up against that entire special ops team, and began to see him as something almost supernatural.

After all, who would believe a single person could run circles around all of them?

With bloodshot eyes, Xu Huaian looked like a messenger from hell. Calmly, he cleaned his gun and sorted his last remaining bullets.

The spiritual spring water was gone. The medicine was gone too.

If there was no news from the other side today, and he ran out of ammo, his life would be over.

Four days from now would be New Year’s Eve. He wondered how she and the kids were doing.

He took out a family photo from his pocket, gazed at it for a while, then pressed it to his chest, cherishing it.

If he died, would she grieve?

Probably, right?

He didn’t know.

He used to be a staunch atheist, but because of her, he found himself hoping for another life.

Silently, he prayed to the heavens: If there’s a next life, he wanted to meet her again.

Meanwhile, the special ops team led by Zhu Hao, after discovering the enemy’s base, didn’t act rashly. Instead, they lay in wait outside.

They were more anxious than anyone, but forced themselves to stay calm.

Captain Xu was bearing all the pressure alone. If they failed to deliver results, his sacrifice would be in vain.

Zhu Hao led the team in scouting the situation, learning the enemy’s numbers. Today, they finally managed to infiltrate the enemy’s base.

With a thunderous explosion echoing through the mountains, the enemy’s stronghold was leveled.

The six-man team quickly withdrew to a safe zone, their hearts heavy.

They felt they’d taken too long. Deep down, they believed Xu Huaian couldn’t have held out.

After all, they were only human and needed rest. For one man to take on so many—no one could do that, not even a god!

That explosion rang in Xu Huaian’s ears, but to him, it wasn’t harsh—it was like music from the heavens.

They’d succeeded!

He reacted instantly, withdrawing without a second’s delay. This place was about to become a living hell.

The enemy heard the explosion too, turning in that direction, cursing furiously—their base had been destroyed.

Inside were all sorts of critical documents from the capital, as well as weapons and homemade explosives—all gone in an instant!

Weren’t there supposed to be just one special ops team? How could a handful of people pull off such a feint?

They’d miscalculated.

They’d gotten addicted to hunting the special ops team these past days, focused solely on wiping them out, and neglected to guard their base—giving the enemy the perfect opportunity.

In their rage, the enemy began firing homemade explosives indiscriminately into the forest, smoke and fire everywhere.

They were determined to flush out Xu Huaian.

But he had already accomplished his mission and was retreating to safety.

Having grown up wandering the deep forests of the northeast, these mountains were as familiar to him as his own backyard.

Outside, the Huaguo army waiting in support also noticed the deafening explosion and the signal flares from the six-man team.

They cheered and danced with excitement—they’d done it!

With the enemy’s base destroyed, they were now toothless tigers, easy to round up and eliminate.

The six-man team waited at their agreed rendezvous point at the mountain’s edge, hearts heavy as they waited for Xu Huaian.

That was the promise—they’d wait, even though they believed Xu Huaian was unlikely to return. Still, they waited from afternoon until nightfall.

Each of them stared toward the mountains, hoping for a miracle, hoping that tall, handsome man would appear before them again, swaggering as he said, “You guys are so weak!”

Finally, Number Three couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes red, he stood up, took off his hat, straightened his uniform, and saluted the mountains.

The others followed suit.

Deep down, they’d accepted that Xu Huaian had fallen here.

They’d seen him, more than once, take out the photo of his wife and children, caress it, then carefully tuck it back against his chest.

If his family knew he’d died, how much would it hurt?

“Captain Xu, rest in peace.”

“Rest in peace…”

The men broke down in tears.

Real men don’t cry easily—unless their hearts are truly broken.

He didn’t have to do this! The team was hastily assembled, and he wasn’t even an active-duty soldier.

But he chose to give them the chance to survive, taking on the most dangerous task himself.

He risked his life to complete the mission assigned by the organization.

At this moment, in their hearts, Xu Huaian was a towering figure. Never before had anyone earned their genuine respect and admiration like this.

Only Xu Huaian.

Just as they were weeping in grief, unable to calm their hearts, Xu Huaian quietly made his way down from above.

From a distance, he saw the special ops team waiting at their rendezvous, and could even faintly hear their sobs.

Xu Huaian thought someone had died. His heart skipped a beat as he counted heads—everyone was there.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

He never imagined they were crying for him. After all, these guys had always been too proud to even talk to him before.

“What are you guys bawling about out here in the middle of the night?”

The men looked up in disbelief, as if they’d seen a ghost.

He was back—alive!

A miracle had happened!

Number Four rushed over and hugged Xu Huaian, then turned to the others in delight: “He’s warm—it’s really Captain Xu!”

He’d heard too many ghost stories and half-expected Xu Huaian’s spirit to come back for them.

They say you can’t hug a ghost, and ghosts don’t have warm skin.

No one laughed at him for saying that.

Instead, the next second, everyone rushed over, lifted Xu Huaian up, and tossed him into the air in celebration.

Xu Huaian was startled. He’d done this sort of thing himself as a rookie, but it had been years since anyone dared toss him over their heads.

But he was truly happy!

He felt the team’s warmth and the camaraderie he’d missed for so long.

After a few tosses, they finally let him down.

The six of them surrounded him.

“Captain Xu, you really made it back? I still can’t believe it!”

“Captain Xu, I’ve never admired anyone in my life—but I admire you.”

“Captain Xu, tell us—how did you keep them running in circles in the woods?”

“Captain Xu…”

Everyone had a million questions, chattering like children.

Xu Huaian’s head was starting to ache from all the noise.

“This isn’t a completely safe area. Let’s withdraw and regroup with the main force. We can talk later, okay?”

Though he’d done his best to avoid injury, after days of running for his life in the forest, he inevitably had some minor wounds.

More importantly, his mind was at its limit—he was only holding on by sheer willpower.

Sure enough, as soon as he finished speaking, he collapsed on the spot, startling the special ops team.

“Captain Xu? What’s wrong?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Captain Xu!”

They hurried to check him over, finding plenty of scrapes and cuts from the forest, but no major injuries.

He was still breathing, so they relaxed. If he’d survived only to die in front of them, that would have been truly unbearable.

“Captain Xu must be exhausted—his nerves stretched to the limit. Let him sleep. Let’s get him back and regroup with the main force,” Number Seven, Zhu Hao, said.

Everyone agreed, and they quickly improvised a stretcher to carry him.

Xu Huaian had a dream—a vivid dream.

Endless blood-red stained the mountains. Many comrades had fallen before they could even draw their guns, dying where they stood.

He searched the mountains with his bare hands, but found no survivors. Each body had a deep bullet wound over the heart—someone had made sure none survived.

From the scene, they’d been ambushed and slaughtered before they could react.

Who could have done this? The enemy? Or someone else?

These were comrades he’d trained and fought alongside, people he’d trusted with his life…"

"Chapter 191: Recovering Lost Memories

What on earth had happened? He had only received a last-minute assignment and been away for one night, yet when he returned, the entire camp had been wiped out—slaughtered in such a brutal way. Xu Huai’an couldn’t accept this outcome.

Long-buried memories began to resurface.

In his dreams, he searched the mountains for survivors, but found none. Instead, he unexpectedly stumbled upon traces of the enemy.

Hidden behind a cliff, he overheard someone angrily say, “How could you do this? Didn’t you promise me you’d only take prisoners, not their lives?”

“That’s over five hundred lives!”

The voice was familiar, as if he’d heard it somewhere before, but for the moment, he couldn’t recall who it was.

“Don’t be mad! Times have changed. You killed so many of us—what’s wrong with collecting a little interest?” came a careless, mocking reply.

“But you’ve made such a mess of things. I’ll be exposed easily!” The man’s real concern was this.

Xu Huai’an’s pupils contracted in shock, his fists clenching tightly.

He knew it—no matter how timid his soldiers were, it was impossible for them not to react at all when the enemy attacked. Many of them had died with their eyes open, unable to rest in peace.

He hadn’t expected there to be a traitor among them—someone who lured them here to be slaughtered.

Who was it? Who could it be?

Swallowing his grief, Xu Huai’an bit down hard on his lip to keep from making a sound, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“What are you afraid of? I made sure everyone up here got a finishing blow. There’s no way anyone survived. Relax, this won’t affect you in the slightest,” the man said smugly.

“You’ve gone too far. I can’t condone this. I’ve kept my end of the bargain—don’t come to me again.”

“No problem, our cooperation is over. As for what you wanted, we’ll deliver. You’ll be promoted in no time!”

“Bullshit! You don’t understand the Chinese at all. You’ve gone way too far this time—they’ll investigate to the bitter end. I’ll be lucky to keep my current position, let alone get promoted! Dream on!” the man spat, gritting his teeth.

Xu Huai’an looked up, straining to see who the traitor was.

The next second, he nearly collapsed, his hand gripping the cliff trembling uncontrollably.

It was him!

The last person he would have suspected, the one who should never have been a traitor, was up there, coldly confessing his crimes.

No wonder the voice sounded so familiar, yet he hadn’t thought of him at all. Subconsciously, he’d always seen this man as a mentor and guide, never willing to suspect him of anything evil.

Over the years, if he had to name the people in the military district who had helped him the most, aside from the old commander and Ye Xiaotian, it would be this Commissar He.

The old commander had recognized his talent and protected him time and again, giving him opportunities to grow.

Ye Xiaotian had been his company commander when he was just a rookie, teaching him the value and dignity of life, helping him build a strong worldview and sense of values.

As for Commissar He, in Xu Huai’an’s memory, he was always kind and gentle, always smiling, always helping others solve their problems. Whatever the issue, he could always find an answer with him.

He was like a guiding light.

He pointed out the right path, and many times, it was thanks to his help that Xu Huai’an was able to find his way.

Commissar He would organize classes in his spare time to help them catch up on their studies, and after class, he’d even pay out of his own pocket to treat them to special meals in the mess hall.

Xu Huai’an had once fantasized that if only Commissar He were his father—he envied his children, having such a wise, learned, gentle, and kind father.

But with just one glance, all of that came crashing down.

Xu Huai’an’s faith was shattered, crumbling to dust.

After they left, he scrambled up the cliff on hands and knees, not knowing where to go, not even knowing where home was anymore.

In the end, he simply returned to his fallen comrades, lying down among the corpses, where he strangely felt safe, and drifted off to sleep.

Xu Huai’an opened his eyes, a single hot tear sliding down his cheek.

These were the memories he had chosen to forget—too vivid, too painful to recall. But now, they had finally returned.

He wasn’t a survivor of the 7/15 incident—he was a witness to the massacre.

He later heard that the people collecting the bodies had found him among the dead. All the corpses were cold and stiff, but when they touched one that was burning hot, they’d been startled, thinking it was a corpse coming back to life. But when they checked, he was still breathing—he’d had a high fever.

He was sent to the hospital, and after his fever broke, those memories were buried deep inside him.

So everyone naturally assumed he’d survived the battle by sheer luck, not knowing that on that night, he had secretly received a last-minute order from Commissar He to go into the city alone on an anti-terror mission.

That was how he happened to escape the brutal massacre by the Vietnamese army. When he returned at dawn, the ground was littered with corpses, the communications equipment destroyed, his comrades all dead in silence.

The butcher had slaughtered everyone, but spared him alone!

What was even more tragic than grief was having your enemy right before you, knowing you should hate him, but being unable to.

He had let down the whole world, but never wronged you in the slightest—what should you do then?

Xu Huai’an chose to forget.

Commissar He had tested him, subtly and openly, several times. Because he truly had forgotten, Xu Huai’an’s performance was flawless, and only then did Commissar He relax.

Later, Xu Huai’an developed psychological issues, making him unfit for the military. Commissar He personally handled his medical retirement, securing the highest possible compensation for him.

Their relationship was like father and son—mutual understanding and deep affection.

Yet behind all that warmth lay secrets no one knew.

After all these years, Xu Huai’an could finally look back on it all with calm. This time, he would not back down.

The 7/15 incident had always been a source of pain for the old commander. He’d suspected there was a traitor in the ranks, but after thorough investigation, found not a single clue.

It was even more painful for Xu Huai’an. Those five hundred men—he’d led them himself, lived and trained with them for years. How could he simply forget them?

Every time he saw blood, his mind would churn—his brothers reminding him not to forget, to avenge them!

Justice may be delayed, but it will never be denied.

After all the twists and turns, fate had brought him back to this familiar circle, and made him remember everything.

Looking up at the starry night sky, he felt as if his comrades were watching him from above.

“Captain, avenge us!”

“Captain, you’re really something—how could you forget us?”

“Commander Xu, don’t forget to bring me some pork head meat for Qingming.”

…"

"Chapter 192: Exposing He Liangong