Chapter 1364
The Night of Returning Home
Chapter 1364 The Night of Returning Home
As the car slowly drove into the residential area, Song Heping noticed that there were twice as many security guards at the entrance as in ordinary residential areas.
The access control system in the upscale residential area is excessively strict, and the landscaping is exquisite. It's not the kind of nouveau riche piling up of greenery, but a layered garden design with camphor trees, osmanthus, and crape myrtle arranged in a pleasing manner, and cobblestone paths winding through it.
My younger brother Song Hexie's car has automatic recognition capabilities, and the barrier silently lifted.
The parking lot is on the third underground level, with soft, warm yellow lighting, and the parking spaces are spacious enough to fit two cars.
The elevator requires a card to start and goes directly to the 28th floor.
"The security in this neighborhood is pretty good," Song Heping remarked casually.
"That's what we valued in the first place," Song Hexie said as he pressed the elevator button. "Brother, we thought about the money you sent back, and safety is the most important thing. The property management fees here are expensive, but it's worth it."
The elevator was barely shaking as it ascended, and the mirror-like walls of the car reflected the two brothers' figures.
Song Heping looked at himself in the mirror.
The man, well into his thirties, had fine lines around his eyes, and his gaze was much deeper than it had been ten years ago.
The younger brother seemed to still be the same mischievous boy who used to follow him around, only now he was wearing a neatly ironed shirt and his hair was combed meticulously.
The door opened.
The motion-sensor light in the entryway turned on automatically, revealing a spacious yet somewhat empty living room.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the river – the CBD on the opposite bank is ablaze with lights, and cruise ships glide slowly across the water.
The interior design follows the currently popular minimalist modern style, but the materials used are of high quality.
It's clear that a lot of money was spent, but it doesn't look tacky.
"Brother, your room is over here."
Song Lingling, the younger sister, led Song Heping to a bedroom at the end of the corridor and pushed open the door.
The room was larger than Song Heping had expected, with a two-meter-wide bed, a solid wood wardrobe taking up an entire wall, a desk placed by the window, and a small sofa in the corner.
The decorating style is consistent with the living room, minimalist to the point of being cold, but the bed sheets and duvet covers are warm beige plaid.
"The sheets and duvet covers are all newly changed, washed and dried. There are towels and toothbrushes in the bathroom. See if you need anything else, and I'll go downstairs to buy it."
As Lingling spoke, she opened the wardrobe door, revealing several newly bought pajamas and loungewear, all in Song Heping's size.
"No shortage, that's good."
Song Heping put down his backpack.
The black tactical backpack stood out against the light-colored floor.
His gaze fell on the desk.
There was a solid wood photo frame there, containing a family portrait.
It's a copy of the photo he has, but it's larger and more exquisitely framed.
In the photo, his parents are still young, and he and his younger siblings look like children. The five of them are huddled in front of the photo studio backdrop, smiling somewhat reservedly, but with a light in their eyes.
"I washed them and arranged them here," Lingling said softly. "I look at them when I miss you."
Song Heping nodded without saying anything.
He felt like something was stuck in his throat, afraid that if he opened his mouth, this big shot who could command respect in the defense industry would break down in tears.
"Take a shower and rest first. My second brother and I will cook some dishes, and we'll have dinner at home tonight to welcome you back," Lingling said, turning and walking towards the door.
The door closed softly.
Song Heping stood in the room for a long time.
The air was filled with the faint scent of new furniture and the warm aroma of fabrics dried in the sun.
He walked to the window and looked at the river outside.
This river flows eastward, passing through his hometown county, and eventually merges into the Yellow River, flowing towards the sea.
came back.
Really back.
The water pressure in the bathroom was strong, and the moment the hot water hit my body, it seemed to wash away some of the fatigue from the long flight and the tension that had accumulated over the past decade.
After changing into clean pajamas, he lay on the unfamiliar bed, yet felt a long-lost sense of peace.
Over the years, he has stayed in countless luxury hotels around the world, in Syrian field tents, and in safe houses in Mexico, but no place has given him this feeling.
The pillow smells of sunshine.
It tastes like home.
Although my parents are no longer here, although my younger siblings are all adults, and although the city in my hometown is so new that I can't recognize it anymore.
But this is home after all.
He closed his eyes, and sleepiness washed over him like a tide.
There was no warning, no alertness, and no gun under the pillow.
For the first time in over a decade, he allowed himself to completely relax.
I slept very soundly and didn't dream.
When I woke up, it was already evening.
The last rays of the setting sun shone through the gaps in the curtains, casting golden spots on the floor.
The river outside the window shimmered with golden light, and the lights on the opposite bank began to twinkle.
The sound of stir-frying came from the kitchen.
The oil sizzled, the spatula thrashed about, and I could hear my younger siblings talking.
"The meat needs to be stewed until very tender; I like it soft."
"Okay, simmer over low heat."
Then, Zhang Wei, the brother-in-law, asked in a low voice, "Should we put this in? Should we take the ginger slices out?"
The sounds of life, so ordinary they border on extravagant.
Song Heping sat up and sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds before he truly realized where he was.
He put on his slippers and walked out of the room. His younger sister, Song Lingling, was cooking the last dish, his younger brother, Song Hexie, was setting the table, and Zhang Wei was helping out, his movements a little clumsy but very serious.
"Brother, you're awake? Perfect timing, just the last dish."
Lingling turned her head and smiled, fine beads of sweat appearing on her forehead: "I made your favorite braised pork, the way Mom used to make it. Try it and see if it looks like it."
The table was already laden with dishes: the braised pork belly was glistening and tempting, the steamed fish was sprinkled with scallions, the stir-fried vegetables were vibrant green, and the pork rib soup steamed in the clay pot. They were all home-style dishes, but to him, they were better than any delicacy.
The four sat down, and Song Hexie opened a bottle of red wine: "Brother, welcome home."
The wine glasses clinked together, making a crisp sound.
Red wine is slightly astringent when you first drink it, then it has a sweet aftertaste.
"I'm going back to the countryside tomorrow..." Song Heping put down his wine glass: "to sweep my parents' graves."
The dinner table fell silent for a moment.
Lingling's eyes were a little red as she looked down and picked at the rice grains in her bowl: "Yes. Dad's grave and Mom's grave have been moved together now. We renovated them two years ago during Qingming Festival."
"It must have cost a lot of money."
“It’s all the money you sent back, brother,” Song Hexie said. “We built it to the best specifications, with a marble tombstone, a fence, and a large cement floor.”
Song Heping nodded, picked up a piece of braised pork and put it in his mouth.
It was stewed until very tender, rich but not greasy, and melted in my mouth—definitely my mother's way of making it—first caramelizing rock sugar, then adding cooking wine, light soy sauce, and dark soy sauce, and finally simmering it over low heat for two hours. The memory of the taste buds was awakened, and my eyes suddenly welled up with tears.
He lowered his head and ate, concealing his emotions.
"Brother, are you leaving again this time?" Lingling asked cautiously, as if afraid of breaking something.
"Let's go," Song Heping said. "The business over there can't function without people."
"Why don't we gradually shift the business back to China?" Song Hexie chimed in. "There are many opportunities in China now, and your experience in overseas investment can come in handy."
Song Heping put down his chopsticks.
The clinking of cutlery was particularly clear in the quiet restaurant.
“Harmony, Lingling…” His voice was calm, yet tinged with helplessness: “Some things aren’t that simple. My business overseas can’t just be transferred like that. Besides…”
He paused for a moment and looked out the window at the river view.
Night had completely fallen, and the city lights shone like a starry river.
"And I'm used to that kind of life."
The younger siblings exchanged a glance and stopped trying to persuade them.
They understood their brother's personality.
Once a decision is made, nothing can change it.
Zhang Wei ate quietly the whole time, occasionally putting food on Lingling's plate, and didn't say much.
This brother-in-law seems honest and upright, a civil servant in the neighborhood office. It's a bit of a "marrying up" for him to be with Lingling, but Song Heping can tell that he genuinely cares for Lingling.
After the meal, Lingling washed the dishes, and Zhang Wei helped clean up.
Song Hexie brewed tea.
Song Heping walked to the balcony and pushed open the glass door.
The night breeze carried the moist scent of the river.
The duplex penthouse, at a height of 28 stories, offers panoramic views of the city's nightscape.
Behind every light in a home is a family, a story of a life.
In the distance, traffic flowed like a river on the overpass, the red taillights forming a flowing river of light.
This is peace.
Ordinary life, ordinary happiness.
Hexie brought over the tea: "Brother, tea. Pu'er, the kind you used to like."
Song Heping took it and sipped it.
The tea soup is mellow and has a long-lasting sweet aftertaste.
"Brother, there's something I need to tell you." Harmony's voice was very low, almost carried away by the night wind.
"You said."
“Last year, two people came to my firm, saying they wanted to know about your situation abroad and asked a lot of questions.” Hexie paused. “I didn’t say much, only that you were doing engineering work abroad, and I didn’t know the specifics. But they didn’t seem to believe me.”
Song Heping's heart tightened, but he remained outwardly calm: "What kind of person?"
“Police officers…” Song Hexie’s expression was somewhat unnatural. After hesitating for a moment, he cautiously said, “They said they are police officers from the branch office in charge of household registration. They said that data monitoring shows you have been gone for many years and haven’t returned. They’re here to verify this…”
"and after?"
"Later, I got suspicious and had Zhang Wei inquire around. We found out that there were no such people in the branch office at all, and their identification was fake..."
Harmony lowered its voice.
Clearly, only he knew about this; he hadn't told his sister.
Moreover, he felt that something was off about the two of them.
Song Heping remained silent. He had long anticipated that his identity could not be completely concealed.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I’ve dragged you into this.”
"What are you saying?" Hehe patted his shoulder, the force quite strong. "You're my brother. No matter what you do outside, you're still my brother. I'm just worried about you. Those people don't seem simple, not like cops, but kind of like..."
"I will handle it," Song Heping said. "If something like this happens again in the future, just call the police if you have any doubts."
At night, Song Heping lay in bed, looking at the recessed light strip on the ceiling.
On my first day back home, besides the joy, there was a deeper worry.
He brought danger home.
Although the identities of those two individuals are unknown, and they pose little danger within the country,
His professional instincts told him that things weren't that simple.
He reached into his pocket and found the phone, intending to call Jiang Feng and arrange for enhanced safety measures for his younger siblings.
Although I don't have a team in the country, I can hire reliable people through connections.
These days, money makes the world go round.
I lack everything, but I don't lack money.
He picked up the phone but hesitated.
Doing so would mean interfering with the peaceful lives of one's younger siblings.
Song Heping always treated his family with utmost care.
perhaps……
He suddenly thought of someone.
It might come in handy at a crucial moment.
But doing that would be tantamount to officially connecting to the domestic network.
He hadn't figured out whether it was good or bad.
Once integrated with the domestic system, his freedom will be greatly reduced, but his family's safety will be better guaranteed.
The faint sound of cars could be heard outside the window; the city nights are never truly quiet.
The long, deep sound of a ship's horn could be heard from the river in the distance.
Song Heping closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
In any case, he's back.
This is enough.
Other matters should be considered carefully before proceeding.
The next morning, Hexie drove Song Heping, Lingling, and Zhang Wei back to the county town.
As the car drove out of the city and onto the provincial highway, the scenery outside the window gradually changed from tall buildings to fields.
It was early summer, the early rice had been planted, the fields were a vibrant green, and the paddy fields were like mirrors, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds.
In the distance, mountains rise and fall, with morning mist clinging to their waists like a light veil.
Song Heping looked out the window, his memories slowly returning.
He had walked this road countless times.
When I was seven years old, I went to the city with my father to sell vegetables for the first time.
He got up before dawn, his mother tied up the vegetables, his father carried the load on a shoulder pole, and he followed behind.
It took three hours to reach the county town, where I set up a stall in a corner of the vegetable market.
It rained that day, and the vegetables weren't sold out, so the father and son sat under the eaves eating cold steamed buns.
The father said, "Study hard, so you won't end up like your father."
At the age of 21, during his first year of military service, he returned home to visit his family, wearing his military uniform and taking a long-distance bus back.
The car broke down on this road, and he helped the driver fix it, getting his hands covered in oil.
It was dark when he got home, and his father was waiting for him at the village entrance, looking anxious.
At twenty-four, after being discharged from the army, I returned to this same path.
My father is gone.
The entire burden of the family rests on his shoulders.
Time flies...
“Brother, look over there,” Lingling said, pointing out the window. “Do you remember? That used to be a brick factory, with black smoke billowing from the chimneys every day. Now it’s been turned into a logistics park.”
Song Heping looked in the direction she pointed.
The brick and tile factory of my memory has disappeared, replaced by neat warehouses and parking lots, with container trucks coming and going.
“Over there, it used to be a wasteland overgrown with reeds, but now it has been developed into an industrial park,” Hexie said. “Two years ago, we attracted investment and several electronics factories came, creating jobs for thousands of people.”
"Has the county town changed a lot?" Song Heping asked.
“It’s huge, really huge.” Hexie gripped the steering wheel, his tone filled with emotion. “The old town area has been basically left untouched. The government said they wanted to protect the historical character, so they restored it to its original state and turned it into a distinctive street. But the new town has expanded several times over. You’ll see when you get there.”
More than an hour later, the car entered the county town.
Just as Harmony had predicted, the new city was a completely different sight.
The road is an eight-lane asphalt road in both directions, with camphor and ginkgo trees planted in the green belt.
Skyscrapers stand tall, their glass curtain walls gleaming in the sunlight.
Large shopping malls, star-rated hotels, office buildings—it has everything.
It's no different from any other development zone in a third-tier city.
Is this still the same county town?!
Even a well-traveled guy like Song Heping couldn't help but look around like a country bumpkin in the city, full of surprises.
Leaving the county town, we turned into the town itself, and finally entered the village. The bluestone road was still there, but the utility poles on both sides had been replaced with antique-style streetlights, lantern-shaped, which would light up with a warm yellow glow at night.
The old locust tree is still there, but its trunk is thicker, and its branches and leaves cover half the street.
The breakfast stall at the village entrance is still there, though the signboard has faded and the four characters "Wang's Breakfast" are barely legible. There are still a few low tables and stools at the entrance.
The car stopped beside a small road on the edge of the village.
This is the road leading to the hillside behind the village.
The road is just too narrow for cars to drive in.
The four got out of the car, and Hexie took out the incense, candles, paper money, and offerings he had prepared from the trunk.
The path is not long, only about two hundred meters.
As you walk to the middle, a three-story building that is noticeably larger and newer than the other houses comes into view.
This is the ancestral home that Song Heping funded the renovation of.
The exterior walls are made of blue bricks, the roof is made of black tiles, and the carved wooden windows were handmade by an old carpenter.
The original stone steps at the entrance are still intact, worn smooth as a mirror by generations of footsteps, with moss growing along the edges.
A plaque hangs above the door, with gold characters on a black background: "Song Residence".
“We come back every week to clean.” Lingling took out her key to open the door; the brass lock was old-fashioned. “The inside was renovated exactly according to the blueprints you sent back. Take a look and see if you’re satisfied.”
Pushing open the heavy wooden door reveals a courtyard.
The ground is paved with bluestone slabs, and tiny ferns grow in the cracks.
In the middle is an old well, the well rim of which is carved from a single piece of bluestone and polished to a shine by the years.
The main hall is furnished with an eight-immortal table and a grand master's chair, all of which are antique solid wood furniture.
The wall hangs a large version of my parents' portraits, a photo taken on their 20th wedding anniversary.
The parents in the photo are still very young. The father is wearing a Zhongshan suit, with a serious expression but a smile in his eyes; the mother is wearing a floral shirt, with a gentle smile.
An incense burner was placed in front of the portrait, containing yesterday's incense ash.
Song Heping stood in front of the portrait and looked at it for a long time.
"Dad, Mom, I'm back."
He spoke softly, his voice ringing out clearly in the empty hall.
He lit three incense sticks and placed them in the incense burner.
Wisps of smoke rose, forming a thin beam of light in the sunlight.
As he kowtowed, his forehead touched the cold stone floor, and the hard, real touch made his eyes well up with tears.
Harmony said from behind, "Brother, let's go sweep the graves first, and then we can take a closer look when we get back. The dew is heavy on the mountain, so it's better to go early."
The cemetery isn't in a public cemetery; it's on the mountain behind my old home.
This is the ancestral burial ground of the Song family, which has been passed down for five generations.
The parents' graves are buried together at the top, offering a panoramic view overlooking the entire village and the distant river.
As Song Heping walked up the mountain path, he breathed in the familiar air.
The earthy smell, the fresh fragrance of grass and trees, the moisture from the distant rice paddies, and the unique resinous scent of pine trees.
He had dreamt of these flavors countless times in the deserts of the Middle East, on the grasslands of Africa, and in the rainforests of Southeast Asia.
The mountain path was still a dirt road, but stone steps had been added, making it much easier to walk on. Wild chrysanthemums were in full bloom by the roadside, clusters of small yellow and white flowers.
Early-rising villagers were picking tea on the mountain. Seeing them, they waved from afar, "Harmony is back? And who is this?"
"My brother, Heping, is back from abroad," Hexie responded loudly.
"Peace! It's been so many years since I've seen you! You must be making a fortune abroad! Your parents would be so happy to see you like this!"
The old man's voice echoed through the valley.
My parents' graves were built in a grand manner, but not excessively luxurious.
The tombstone is made of marble, with a black background and gold lettering. The fence is made of stainless steel and painted black. There is a small concrete area in front of the tomb for worship.
Cypress trees, already taller than a person, are planted around the tombstone.
Song Heping asked his younger brother, sister and brother-in-law to wait aside, and walked to the grave alone.
He crouched down and brushed away the fallen leaves and dust from the tombstone with his hands.
My fingertips touched the cold stone, on which were engraved my parents' names, their dates of birth and death, and a line of smaller characters:
"He was hardworking and thrifty throughout his life, raised his children, and his kindness was as heavy as a mountain."
He took a bottle of Moutai out of his backpack.
Upon opening the bottle, the aroma of the liquor wafts out, carrying a rich, savory fragrance reminiscent of soy sauce.
He poured half a bottle of water in front of the grave.
The clear liquid seeped into the soil, leaving dark marks.
"Dad, Mom, your son is unfilial; I haven't come back to see you all these years."
His voice was very soft, but the mountains were quiet, and his younger siblings, who were not far behind him, could hear it.
Lingling couldn't help but turn her back, her shoulders trembling slightly.
He hugged her and patted her shoulder gently to comfort her, his own eyes red.
"Dad, before you left, you told me to take good care of my younger siblings and to be an upright person. I did my best in the first thing. My younger siblings are doing well now, they have jobs and live good lives."
A mountain breeze blew by, and the cypress trees rustled, as if in response.
"The second thing."
He paused, his fingers tracing the words on the tombstone.
“The path I’ve taken may not be the path you hoped for. When you passed away, I lied to you and said I was working on an engineering project, but in reality, I was already on a different path. But your son can assure you that I have never done anything immoral or harmful, nor have I ever harmed any innocent people. Every penny I’ve earned has been earned with my life.”
"Mom, you love me the most. When I was little, I was naughty and got into trouble, and you protected me and paid for it out of your own pocket. I'm sorry, Mom, for making you worry. But I remember all the lessons you taught me—to be a person with a conscience and to have a bottom line."
He spilled some more wine.
The bottle was empty.
"I'm back now. My younger siblings have all grown up, started their own families, and are doing well. You can rest assured. I'm doing alright out there too. I have my own career and my brothers. It's just that sometimes I miss home, I miss your braised pork, and I miss Dad's tea."
After saying this, he remained silent for a long time, squatting in front of the grave, looking at the photo on the tombstone.
A mountain breeze blows, and the pines rustle in the wind.
Harmony walked over and patted him on the shoulder: "Brother, get up. Mom and Dad will be so happy to know you're back."
Song Heping stood up, and Lingling and Zhang Wei also came over. The four of them burned paper money together.
The yellow paper curled and turned black in the flames, turning to ashes, which were then swept up by the wind, spiraling upwards like black butterflies.
Offer the food—apples, oranges, and pastries.
Lingling placed the bouquet of chrysanthemums in front of the tombstone.
The four of them kowtowed three times together.
As they descended the mountain, Song Heping asked, "Have any relatives visited us in recent years?"
"Not many," Hexie said truthfully. "My eldest uncle passed away the year before last, and my younger uncle's family moved to the provincial capital where their children are studying. As for other relatives, we visit each other occasionally for weddings and funerals."
Has anyone asked me about it?
"Yes. Everyone says you've made a fortune abroad, owning a big company and living in a big villa. Some want to borrow money, some want you to help them find jobs, and some want to partner with you in business. I told them to do what you instructed: I'm busy with business, can't be contacted, and can't come back."
Song Heping didn't ask any more questions.
This is the effect he wanted—to distance himself, but not to completely sever ties.
You need to protect your family, but you can't let them completely isolate themselves from normal social relationships, otherwise it would be suspicious.
Back at his ancestral home, he walked around the house.
The first floor consists of the main hall, kitchen, and dining room.
The kitchen has a modern renovation, but the traditional earthen stove has been preserved.
Cooking food in an earthen stove makes it especially fragrant, and even when villagers build new houses, they still keep these wood-burning earthen stoves.
The restaurant has an octagonal table covered with an embroidered tablecloth.
The second floor has three bedrooms, all decorated to modern standards, with private bathrooms, air conditioning, and water heaters.
The largest room was reserved for Song Heping; it faces south and gets plenty of sunlight.
The third floor is a large terrace furnished with rattan chairs and a coffee table, offering views of the entire old street and the distant mountains.
There are also some flowers and plants on the terrace—roses, jasmine, and mint—that are growing very well.
"The ancestral home is very well renovated." He turned to Song Hexie and asked, "It must have cost a lot of money, right?"
"You sent back two million before, but we actually used more than 1.6 million. I've kept the rest for you," Hexie said. "The decoration materials are all high-quality, environmentally friendly and formaldehyde-free. We also hired the best workers, experienced craftsmen with meticulous workmanship."
"Don't save the money, just spend it when you need to," Song Heping said. "Do you still have a mortgage on the house you live in in the city?"
“It’s been paid off long ago,” Lingling said. “Brother, have you forgotten? It was paid off in one lump sum, there was no loan involved. The property management fees and utility bills are a bit high, but our current income is enough.”
"That's good."
We ate lunch at the ancestral home. Lingling cooked a few home-style dishes.
Stir-fried green peppers with pork, scrambled eggs with tomatoes, stir-fried water spinach, and seaweed and egg drop soup. These are all dishes I often ate when I was a child.
During the meal, Zhang Wei became more talkative, telling some interesting stories about the neighborhood office.
When someone's dog went missing, the whole community helped look for it; when an elderly person's house was leaking, everyone chipped in to fix it. The atmosphere became much more relaxed.
After the meal, Song Heping said he wanted to go for a walk by himself.
He walked out of the old street alone and wandered aimlessly around the county town.
The primary school is still on the original site, but the school buildings have all been newly built, with a three-story teaching building and a plastic running track, which is completely different from the red brick bungalows and mud playground in his memory.
He stood outside the wall, watching the children running on the playground, and remembered when he was a child, he played football here and broke the classroom window. He was punished by the teacher and then beaten by his father when he got home.
The middle school moved to the new city, and the old school site was converted into a shopping mall.
He went inside and wandered among the dazzling array of shops.
Clothing stores, milk tea shops, mobile phone shops—they tried to find the location of the classroom from back then, but nothing matched up.
I only remember that there was a sycamore tree at the classroom door, and when the leaves fell in autumn, the students on duty had to sweep for a long time.
He stopped at the entrance of the county's armed forces department.
The gate was still the same gate, only it had been repainted, and the sentries had been replaced by young men.
He enlisted in the army from here back then.
That day, his father accompanied him and smoked a cigarette at the door, the smoke rising slowly in the morning light.
My father said, "Do a good job in the army and don't bring shame to the Song family. But don't be reckless and be careful."
He stood at the door for a long time until the sentry gave him a questioning look, then he turned and left.
Finally, he walked to the riverbank, found a bench, sat down, and watched the river flow eastward.
More than ten years.
Over the past decade, he has navigated through gunfire, intrigue, and power struggles.
He has amassed billions of dollars, controls a vast underground network, and can influence a country's political situation and determine the course of a war.
In Iligo, he was known as the "King of the Northwest." The American ambassador wanted to invite him to dinner, the supreme commander of the Persian Revolutionary Guard wanted to be his brother, and the leader of the Kolds was willing to pay $20 million a year just to buy his promise of protection.
But sitting here, looking at the familiar river and listening to the familiar local dialect, he felt like he was nothing.
He was just a wanderer who had been away from home for too long and had finally returned.
He was Song Heping, the eldest son of the Song family.
My phone vibrated; it was an encrypted message from Miro.
He unlocked the device with his fingerprint, entered the second layer of password, and then saw the content:
"Boss, everything is normal. General Samir has taken up his post in Mosul and begun troop reorganization. The area previously controlled by 1515 has been largely cleared. Mr. Jiang Feng is making good progress in Erbil and has reached a preliminary agreement with the Kurdish Autonomous Government. Also, the US Embassy has extended another invitation, hoping that you can have dinner with us after you return to Baghdad to discuss 'security cooperation in the northwest'."
Song Heping replied: "Tell them I'll be back in Baghdad in a week, and arrangements can be made. Inform Jiang Feng to prepare for a meeting next week."
He turned off the encrypted channel and continued to look at the river.
One week left.
This week, he didn't want to think about Iligo anymore, the arms business, or the political games.
They don't even consider what the Americans want, what the Persians are scheming, or what the Colders are plotting.
I just want to be a normal person.
Shopping, eating, sleeping, chatting with family.
Even if it's only for a week.
Back in the city in the evening, Hexie suggested going out for dinner to celebrate her brother's return home.
Song Heping declined, saying, "Let's just eat at home, keep it simple. Lingling is pregnant, so she shouldn't go out too much; it's not hygienic."
This time, he personally cooked several dishes.
Steamed sea bass, garlic broccoli, and yam and pork rib soup.
The four of them sat around a table eating. The television was broadcasting the evening news, covering international affairs and economic developments.
When the Middle East news was broadcast, the screen showed the Iligo Parliament Building and a US military convoy patrolling the streets of Baghdad. Song Heping subconsciously frowned.
Harmony noticed this, picked up the remote and changed the channel to a local station that was broadcasting the weather forecast.
"Brother," Lingling said hesitantly, stirring her chopsticks in her bowl, "there's something I want to discuss with you."
"You said."
"I'm pregnant. Two months along." She looked up, her eyes sparkling. "I just confirmed it at the hospital yesterday, and the baby's heartbeat is very good."
Song Heping was taken aback for a moment, then smiled: "That's great news. Congratulations!"
He looked at Zhang Wei and said, "You're going to be a father. The responsibility is heavy."
Zhang Wei smiled, a little embarrassed but unable to hide his joy: "Yes, yes, brother, I will try my best."
"My due date is at the end of the year, in December," Lingling said. "Brother, can you come back then? I want you to see the baby too."
Song Heping remained silent for a few seconds.
It's uncertain what the situation in Ilig will be like in December.
But seeing his sister's expectant eyes, he nodded: "I'll try my best. I should be able to find some time by the end of the year."
"If you're busy, then forget it. Work is important," Lingling quickly said, but the disappointment in her eyes was undeniable.
"No matter how important work is, it's not as important as family," Song Heping said. "I will make time for it."
After dinner, Song Heping called Hexie to the balcony and handed him a bank card.
"This is."
“There’s three million inside. The password is Mom’s birthday,” Song Heping said. “Lingling needs money to have her baby. If you need more, just let me know.”
"Three million!" Harmony's hand trembled, and the card almost fell to the ground. "Brother, we have the money. We can't take your money."
"Take it."
Song Heping's tone left no room for refusal; it was the imposing aura he had honed over more than a decade in the arena of life and death, which he unconsciously revealed even to his own younger brother.
“I’m abroad and can’t take care of my family. My parents are gone, and my eldest brother is like a father to me. We should spend the money we need to, without being stingy. We’ll hire two postpartum nannies for Lingling, the best ones, and also hire a nutritionist and other things.”
Harmony's eyes reddened, and she silently accepted the card.
"Zhang Weiren seems nice, but he's too good to Lingling," Song Heping said in a low voice, gazing at the distant river view. "If I find out he's bullying Lingling..."
“He won’t,” Hexie quickly said. “Zhang Wei is very honest, he’s especially good to Lingling, and he’s a very genuine person.”
"That's good." Song Heping patted his younger brother's shoulder. "Hexie, the business I do isn't entirely legitimate. There are some things you should know as little as possible. If anyone asks, just say you don't know anything. If anyone threatens you, remember my words, notify me immediately. You know my number! Remember! Don't handle it yourself, understand?"
Harmony's expression turned serious: "Brother, are you... in danger? Those people..."
“Danger is always present,” Song Heping said calmly, “but I can handle it. Just live your lives well. Remember, the more ordinary you are, the safer you are.”
"and you."
“I’m used to it,” Song Heping said, his tone tinged with an indescribable weariness. “I chose this path myself, and I don’t regret it. As long as you are doing well, it’s all worth it.”
The two brothers stood on the balcony for a long time without saying another word.
The night breeze carried the dampness of the river and the unique hustle and bustle of the city at night.
In the distance came the long, deep sound of a ship's horn, like a farewell or a call.
Song Heping suddenly realized that this was exactly what he wanted to protect.
The peaceful life of younger siblings, and unborn nephews or nieces.
For this, it's worth walking in the dark, getting your hands stained with blood and mud, making deals with the devil, and dancing on the edge of a knife.
Please vote with monthly tickets! I'll continue with 10,000 words a day today! New content will begin soon after this transitional chapter, so please stay tuned.
(End of this chapter)