The next morning, Zhao Lan was already sitting in the tea restaurant.

She had arrived a full hour earlier than the appointed time, bringing all the gifts her family had prepared, yet she couldn’t help but ask her husband, “Will little brother not want to come?”

“He won’t,” her husband held her hand and answered her seriously, “Little brother is as brave as you are.”

Zhao Lan squeezed her husband’s hand and carefully straightened her collar again.

She looked out the window, then retracted her gaze, slowly turning the teacup.

She knew her little brother was very brave.

The child she had carried back from the woodpile, even after waking up, had spoken very little. A few days later, she learned that the child’s name was Huo Miao.

Those people forbade them from remembering their own names, wanting them to forget everything from the past, or else they would keep beating them until they couldn’t move.

So they had made a pact: she would call her little brother “Huo Miao,” and Huo Miao would call her “sister.”

In those three years, besides working and being beaten day and night, they were constantly trying to escape.

There weren’t many opportunities. They were watched very closely. Once, it was raining heavily, and they tried to make a run for it while they were supposed to be cutting grass. They almost succeeded.

That time, they had run into a field of crops, hiding among the corn stalks. The sharp leaves had scraped their bodies and hands, leaving them covered in bloody scratches. The rain was pouring, thunder roared, and lightning was blinding. The footsteps of the people searching for them were right next to them, the beams of flashlights scanning everywhere.

“Sister,” the boy squeezed her hand tightly, “I’m the one who ran away.”

“I ran away, you came looking for me… just tell them that.”

That time, it was already impossible for them to escape. They had to come up with a story to explain, or neither of them would have survived the aftermath.

“I’m too young, I can’t take care of both of us. You can’t get beaten.”

Her little brother’s voice was low, trembling slightly in the raging storm. “If you’re okay, we can escape.”

“I will live,” her little brother promised her. “Sister, I promise you, I will live.”

“I have to live,” her little brother had told her many times. “I have a little sister. She’ll be scared without her older brother.”

Her little brother would survive every time. Every time, he would struggle to tell her that his family was looking for him, that he had to escape and go home.

What happened later was another nightmare. She watched the boy turn and rush out. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to act according to their plan, watching the fists, feet, and wooden sticks fall mercilessly, all landing on her little brother’s body.

She watched as the child gradually stopped moving, and she finally couldn’t bear it anymore… She had instinctively learned how to be a crazy, baby-obsessed, mentally ill expectant mother.

She hysterically made a scene with those people, snatching the child from the blows, protecting him in her arms, constantly trying to hold his limp, cold hand, rocking him in her arms and calling him “baby.”

At this point, those people were satisfied. This was the kind of “product” they wanted. They thought she had finally come to her senses, so they put away their weapons and dispersed.

A week later, Huo Miao woke up, still unable to move in bed.

A broken rib had punctured his lung. The local folk doctor had set it, and the wound was covered with herbal medicine. He would cough up blood if he sat up even a little.

The child opened his eyes. After a moment, he suddenly recognized her. A smile appeared in his eyes, and he soundlessly called her “sister.”

…

They lived like this for three years.

In those three years, the two of them depended on each other. If one couldn’t stay awake and fell asleep, the other would stay up with an iron poker, startled awake by any slight noise.

Zhao Lan knew very well that Ming Chi was very brave, that if Ming Chi promised, he would definitely come.

But she was still worried that this meeting was a bit too soon.

“We would also chat,” Zhao Lan said softly to her husband, holding his hand. “He said his mother didn’t do it on purpose, that it was an accident no one could have foreseen.”

“He said that losing both him and his sister at once must have made his mother feel extremely guilty. His older brother was abroad, but when he heard about it, he would probably be worried too.”

Zhao Lan said in a low voice, “He was very guilty. He felt he shouldn’t have gotten lost. He said he should have been more vigilant that day, more aware of self-protection.”

They didn’t just talk about how to escape every day. That would drive a person crazy with repression. They also talked about what they would do after they escaped, after they got home.

This was their greatest motivation to live, to escape with all their might.

This was their happiest time.

Only at this time were they like a university student not yet twenty and a child not yet ten.

“As soon as I get home, I’m going to hug my mom and dad and cry.”

Zhao Lan hugged her knees, her arms propping up her chin. “I also have a little sister. I have to grab my little sister and cry too.”

Huo Miao imitated her, also hugging his knees, his arms also propping up his chin. “I’m also going to hug my mom, dad, and sister and cry.”

He realized he had won a round and immediately added, “I also have an older brother.”

“That’s cheating!” Zhao Lan poked his head. “Then I’m going to sleep in my bed at home for a whole day and night without getting up.”

Huo Miao immediately one-upped her. “I’m going to sleep for three days and three nights.”

Zhao Lan was about to burst out laughing but still had to pretend to be angry. “Fine, then I’m also going to make up for all the years I’ve missed—I’m going to celebrate three birthdays at once, right up to twenty.”

“I’m going to celebrate four at once,” Huo Miao made a precise strike. “The day I got lost was my birthday. There will be thirty-four candles on the cake.”

Zhao Lan was completely defeated by him and decided to resort to the ultimate punitive measure. She blew on her hands and went to touch his ticklish spots.

…

The two of them laughed until they collapsed on the haystacks. Those were their happiest few minutes in those three years.

That night, Zhao Lan dreamed of going home. She guessed Huo Miao had dreamed of it too. But for some reason, the boy wasn’t as happy as before, and seemed to have something on his mind.

“What’s wrong?” Zhao Lan asked, bending down during a break from reaping wheat. “Worried we can’t escape?”

Huo Miao shook his head without thinking, wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, and gave a brief smile.

Zhao Lan forbade him from doing any more heavy labor, demanding that her brother stand still. She squatted down to check his back.

A bone protruded from his gaunt waist. The local folk doctor didn’t dare to touch it, saying it was from a beating. If not set properly, he might not be able to walk in the future. It could only be treated at a big hospital in the city later.

“When we get home, you must tell mom and dad to get your back fixed.”

Zhao Lan pulled his shirt down, moved in front of him, and reached up to touch his ear. “And here, remember?”

Huo Miao nodded obediently and also touched her hair. “Sister needs to take care of her body too.”

“Definitely,” Zhao Lan made a fist. “When we’re both well, we’ll go out for a meal.”

She was getting hungry just thinking about it. “I’m craving the cafeteria food so much right now. Wow, and New Year’s Eve dinner, a big table of food for the whole family. Later, our two families can eat together, that would be two big tables of food, wouldn’t that be great?”

Huo Miao’s eyes also smiled, and he made a fist together with her. “A meal, a meal.”

…

That meal had been delayed for thirteen years.

“It wasn’t any of your fault.”

Her husband said to her, “Fate is fickle.”

A few days before their successful escape, they were brutally retaliated against by those people. This time, Zhao Lan didn’t let her little brother stand in front of her.

Those people wouldn’t believe a ten-year-old child had the ability to steal a phone and call the police. Zhao Lan pushed Huo Miao behind her and was locked in a pitch-black room by those people.

Even including those three years, those were probably the most terrifying three days. Those three days were enough to destroy a person’s entire sanity.

Zhao Lan’s memory fractured there. She only vaguely remembered the terrifying sound of a brawl. She had collapsed in a corner of the room, the door was kicked open, and people in uniform rushed in.

After that, Zhao Lan was rescued, diagnosed with post-traumatic stress-induced psychogenic amnesia, and was ill for a long time.

Zhao Lan slowly walked out of it, re-faced that past, regained her past memories, and remembered that she owed her little brother a meal.

“I died once in those three days,” Zhao Lan said to her husband. “And then I lived again for thirteen years.”

“That child,” Zhao Lan said, “my little brother.”

She said with her head down, “He slowly died in those thirteen years.”

None of the things that child had talked about had come true.

Why was Huo Miao troubled after he woke up that day? What was he thinking?

Did he vaguely realize that perhaps things might not be as he had imagined, that even if he went home, there wouldn’t be four make-up birthdays, there wouldn’t be a bed to laze in for three days and three nights?

Did that child, who had been lost at seven and had stumbled through life until he was ten, actually have a vague premonition about his family, guessing a part of the possible future?

But he probably couldn’t have guessed more.

How could a ten-year-old child have guessed that after going through hell and back, escaping covered in injuries, what awaited him was such a thirteen-year period?

—Just a couple of days ago, in order to finally confirm the authenticity of some information, Zhao Lan had accompanied Director Gong to visit that person from the Ren family.

“That person,” Zhao Lan said, “he didn’t just go mad recently.”

Zhao Lan had stayed in the hospital for a long time and had undergone long-term recuperation. When Ren Chenbai had met with Director Gong with Luo Cheng, she had already suspected that the person was somewhat abnormal.

So Zhao Lan had also proactively opened up her own wounds to remind the other party that memory is not necessarily the truth.

But a person searching for the truth is destined to be unable to understand someone who weaves lies to desperately cover up the truth.

Just like this time when Zhao Lan accompanied Director Gong and saw Ren Chenbai in the special management ward.

Dean Xun had not deliberately hidden the news, nor had he forbidden visitors. Ren Chenbai knew that Luo Zhi was still alive—it must have been the Ren family who told him.

Ren Chenbai behaved very normally.

So normally that he seemed like a person without any illness, still greeting them politely, just like in the coffee shop.

Even the new caregiver would mistakenly think he was not ill—if not for the empty hospital bed that was carefully covered with a blanket.

Ren Chenbai didn’t say much to them before he apologized, saying that Xiao Zhi needed to take his medicine, and returned to the empty hospital bed.

The things he did were as if there was really a person there.

Probably a very cold and resistant patient who refused to cooperate with treatment. Ren Chenbai had to coax him in a soft voice for a long time before he would willingly take a bite of medicine, and then there would be no reaction again.

So Ren Chenbai could only put the medicine down. He was not angry about this at all, nor was he impatient. He just sat on the floor by the bedside.

He faced the empty hospital bed and apologized for one thing after another in a low voice, counting his own sins.

…This was the limit of what he could accept.

When he was sending them off, Dean Xun told them that Ren Chenbai couldn’t imagine other possibilities.

Ren Chenbai couldn’t imagine how Luo Zhi, who had been treated like that by him, could still grit his teeth, swallow blood, and desperately cut out the old sores and chronic illnesses, rushing into a new life without looking back.

No matter who said this to him, Ren Chenbai only believed it was a false image they were creating to deceive him.

Because if it were him, if he had to go through it a hundred times, a thousand times, he would absolutely not be able to endure it.

…

Director Gong actually hadn’t expected it either.

She knew that child would definitely not disappoint Shuangmei, but she also hadn’t expected it to be so fast—so fast that even she herself was not yet ready.

Perhaps humans are inherently animals that think “what if.” While filming the later episodes of the documentary, Gong Hanrou had once, late at night after work, couldn’t help but ask Zhao Lan.

If she hadn’t stubbornly adhered to the non-interference principle of documentary filmmaking back then, hadn’t blindly believed Ren Chenbai, hadn’t avoided this topic for so long because of a friend’s death, would things not necessarily have come to this?

This was probably a question every documentary director would encounter. There would be no answer, and she wasn’t looking for an answer from Zhao Lan either.

It’s just that she felt regret. This regret didn’t belong to any identity or profession, it was just because perhaps it was possible—even if a change had occurred anywhere.

Even if there was any slight difference, perhaps it was possible, that they could have pulled that child out of the dark, cold water.

…

Zhao Lan was suddenly pulled back to her senses by the sound of a message notification.

She saw the message from Ming Chi and immediately became nervous, constantly squeezing her husband’s hand. “They’re here, they’re here, just downstairs.”

“I’ll go get them,” her husband stood up. “What’s the license plate number?”

Zhao Lan tapped the screen a few times, forwarded the message to him, and then immediately ordered a large table of Cantonese morning tea, specifically requesting no egg white products.

These dim sum dishes had to be eaten hot. If ordered too early, the taste wouldn’t be as good. Ordering now was the most suitable time.

The person who had just been worried and overthinking was now clearly full of anticipation, bustling with excitement.

Her husband stood by, smiled, and patted the back of her hand, then quickly went downstairs to get them according to the address in the message.

Zhao Lan finished ordering in one breath.

She eagerly returned to her seat, preparing to properly tidy up her collar and cuffs so that her little brother wouldn’t see the scars on her hands and neck.

Zhao Lan took out a small mirror from her bag. When she saw the person approaching from the other direction, her gaze suddenly froze.

…Someone was walking towards her.

The other person had clearly waited for her husband to leave before coming to find her. She had thought the person’s figure was slightly familiar before but hadn’t paid it much mind.

A person who should absolutely not be here.

Zhao Lan’s heart sank.

She put down the mirror, grasped the phone beside her, and directly called out the person’s identity, “Mr. Luo.”

Luo Jun’s footsteps faltered, and he stopped in front of the table.

Although she had always been aware of this person’s existence, Zhao Lan had actually not seen Luo Jun much.

So even though the other person had discovered her from somewhere and had followed her all the way here, Zhao Lan hadn’t been able to notice immediately—the last time she had seen this person was actually in Ren Chenbai’s hospital room.

They were about to leave when Zhao Lan saw Luo Jun visiting Ren Chenbai.

…To say he was visiting Ren Chenbai, a more accurate and bizarre way to put it would be that he was visiting “Luo Zhi.”

Dean Xun had told them that Luo Jun was lucid. He was just tacitly acknowledging the other’s ridiculous illusion when he came to see Ren Chenbai.

Luo Jun’s care was even more meticulous, more thorough, more sleepless than Ren Chenbai’s. No one knew what the point of him doing this was—because there couldn’t possibly be any point.

Luo Jun stopped in front of the table, motionless.

Zhao Lan didn’t know what he was like before, but the current Luo family’s eldest son was probably not living a satisfactory life. The dark circles under his eyes were particularly heavy, his expression numb and dispirited. He was completely dejected, clearly having thoroughly collapsed in this turmoil.

It was clear that Luo Jun had tried his best to look a little decent today, but this so-called decency was merely propped up by his clothes. The inside was already withered beyond recognition.

“Miss Zhao, no offense intended,” Luo Jun spoke with difficulty, his voice a bit hoarse. “I heard…”

Zhao Lan asked him, “Who told you?”

Luo Jun closed his mouth.

Zhao Lan had already sent a message to her husband, asking him to take Huo Miao for a walk first and not to come up in a hurry.

She was meeting Ming Chi for a content review. Someone in the crew must have known, and it wasn’t surprising that Luo Jun could find out through his connections.

…

She just couldn’t understand what this person was doing.

“Mr. Luo, who are you taking care of?” Zhao Lan asked. “Who are you looking for?”

Luo Jun’s pupils contracted, his face turning faintly pale.

Zhao Lan didn’t want to say another word to him, but Mr. Luo’s brain was still working. Even if some things weren’t said, he could figure them out.

He was taking care of the ten-year-old Luo Chi.

He was looking for the ten-year-old, who had escaped from a nightmare covered in scars, the little brother who wanted to go home.

When Zhao Lan was interviewed as a subject, she had mentioned this in the documentary. Luo Jun had watched every frame of the documentary over and over again.

Luo Cheng didn’t want him to watch it, saying he would have nightmares, and had made a fuss a few times.

But if Luo Cheng still wanted to rely on him for odd jobs to make a living, she could only endure this, because he was not Luo Cheng’s second brother who would always protect her.

If Luo Cheng didn’t want to endure him, she could figure it out herself, and live on her own.

Luo Jun remembered the scene from the documentary. This part had also been reenacted by the young actor the crew had found.

The young actor was very well-chosen. His figure and voice were very similar. Sometimes he would be in a trance and think he was seeing Luo Chi.

“I also have an older brother.”

In the picture, the boy squatted by the haystack, childishly competing with his sister. “My older brother is abroad, but when he hears about this, he will also be worried about me.”

The sister didn’t have an older brother and stared at him with envy. “That’s so nice!”

“Your older brother must hate those bad people to death,” the sister held his hand. “When you get home, he will dote on you the most, protect you wherever you go, and personally take care of you and help you recover.”

The sister said, “Your older brother will definitely beat up all the bad people for you.”

A bit of color returned to the boy’s pale face. He pursed his lips and smiled. After a while, he added in a low voice, “He doesn’t have to.”

“He doesn’t have to,” the boy said. “It’s enough if he can lead me home.”

The boy looked up, raised his hand, and gestured, “My brother should be this tall.”

He straightened his shoulders and closed his eyes, as if he had really seen his older brother. “I’ll raise my hand. He won’t have to bend down. Just by moving his hand, he can lead me home.”

…

Luo Jun’s arm suddenly spasmed, and he barely came back to his senses.

“I just want to see him,” Luo Jun said hoarsely. “Miss Zhao, I know it’s impossible…” he paused, then forced out the words with difficulty. “It’s too late. What’s done can’t be undone. I just, he’s my little brother—”

“He’s not, Mr. Luo.”

Zhao Lan said, “I’m meeting my family’s little brother today. My parents and my little sister have asked me to bring him home. If he’s willing, we’ll spend the New Year together, have a reunion dinner together.”

Luo Jun froze on the spot.

His expression was somewhat dazed. He opened his mouth with difficulty but couldn’t make a sound.

What Zhao Lan said was not wrong.

This was the result he wanted.

This was the result their family wanted.

No one had led Luo Zhi home.

They had repeatedly asked Luo Zhi why he had to disturb the whole family’s peace, why he had to come home.

New Year’s Eve dinner, reunion dinner?

Luo Jun tried hard to recall. He found that he couldn’t remember any New Year’s Eve dinner where Luo Zhi was present. After all, that was a time that should only be festive.

“I won’t let you see him, and I will absolutely not tell you where he is.”

Zhao Lan told him, “Mr. Luo, I have to protect my little brother.”

Zhao Lan couldn’t say anything too harsh. She had been meticulously cared for and protected by her family for thirteen years and had never seen such a person.

Zhao Lan gave him one last look and turned to walk away.

Luo Jun chased after her in a panic. He stumbled a little, trying to catch up to Zhao Lan, reaching out to grab her. “Miss Zhao—”

Zhao Lan’s face changed slightly when she saw the outstretched hand.

She was still afraid of these things, but she wouldn’t let this person find her little brother. She gritted her teeth and was about to forcefully slap his hand away, but someone was faster than her.

A cane was steadily placed between the two of them, knocking away Luo Jun’s hand and pressing against his chest.

Luo Jun stopped abruptly.

Ming Chi withdrew the cane and shielded Zhao Lan behind him.

He was already taller than Zhao Lan. His figure was made to look tall and neat by the windbreaker. The depths of his dark pupils were as calm as water. When he had no expression and didn’t speak, he looked cold.

Zhao Lan’s husband was quite ruthless. Luo Jun staggered back a few steps in a sorry state, bumped into a table, and stared at Ming Chi, his chest heaving violently.

Ming Chi’s gaze towards him was that of a stranger.

It was not the indifference or resistance Luo Jun had imagined, not even the casual disregard from the past when he no longer had any expectations for him—only pure unfamiliarity, confusion, and puzzlement.

Luo Jun’s pupils froze.

He couldn’t say another word, nor did he know how to move.

…

Zhao Lan squeezed Ming Chi’s arm tightly.

Her eyes lit up uncontrollably. She thought she would cry, that she would be sad, but it turned out there was none of that.

Only that breath completely let out, an extreme sense of relief and release that couldn’t be described in words.

It seemed they had all had a little trouble at the exit. They had all gotten lost, taken a long detour, but after traversing the vast sea of people, through time, they had met again here.

The road wasn’t easy, but they had reached the end when they met, so there was time to properly tidy up.

Zhao Lan couldn’t care about anything else, completely focused on the grown-up little brother in front of her.

Her little brother was already taller than her, but he still bent his shoulders to let her touch his head and helped her tidy up her messed-up sleeves.

Zhao Lan couldn’t help but want to laugh. She ruffled Ming Chi’s hair, looked at her handsome, steady, and skilled little brother, and cleared her throat. “This is troublesome. My little sister asked me to bring a remote control car.”

“Thirteen years, so long,” Zhao Lan sighed. “We’re both so mature now. I think I’ll just keep it for myself. My future baby might want to play with it.”

A slight smile curved Ming Chi’s eyes. “That is troublesome.”

The hand he had been hiding behind his back came out. He gave the seashell boat to Zhao Lan and negotiated with his yet-to-be-conceived little nephew, “I was just thinking of getting a remote control car.”