Octavia was just about to start writing when her mother burst in.

“Octavia, write to your sister. Ask for money. Tell her we have no food and Leon is starving to death.”

Octavia glanced out the window. Leon was busy peeling a steaming hot boiled egg. Her mother’s favoritism was showing again. “Mom, if Leon is starving, I must be a pile of white bones by now.”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Facing her mother’s fake confusion, Octavia pointed outside. “Look, your precious son is choking on his egg.”

The mother rushed out, slapping Leon twice on the back. “You have food and you didn’t even share with your sister? How shameless.”

It was clearly her who had secretly stuffed the egg into Leon’s hand, but now she made it look like Leon was the one being inconsiderate.

Leon ignored her. He kept smacking his lips loudly. “Good, so good,” he muttered to himself.

Octavia began to write. The first line was: “My dear sister Elena…”

Her mother barged back in. She pointed at the paper. “What’s that first line? Read it to me.”

“My dear sister Elena!”

Octavia’s room was just a small corner partitioned off from the living room with wooden boards. Only six or seven square meters, with a bunk bed. Leon, standing just outside, could hear everything.

“Pfft…”

Leon nearly sprayed precious egg yolk everywhere. He barely managed to cover his mouth, swallowing hard as he ducked into his own room and slammed the door.

“Good. Keep writing. Tell her your dear family is starving. Ask if she can send money, or even rice.”

Under her mother’s direction, Octavia’s pen flew. But what she actually wrote was: “This family of heartless, subhuman animals is demanding you send money back…”

Her mother was illiterate anyway. She couldn't read a word.

“Mom, finished that part. Keep going…” Octavia said with a smile.

“Right. Write that if there’s an opening, she must secure a good position for her brother, Leon.”

“Mom! That’s not right!” Octavia argued with fake seriousness. “Are you really going to send Leon to work at the border? No matter how powerful Elena is, the best she can get him is a border job.”

“Ah?” The mother gasped, thinking for a few seconds. “Octavia, you’re right. Change it. Tell her to send money. Your brother needs a fund to find a job here.”

“Got it.” Octavia wrote: “Mom wants to halve your food budget and send the savings back for Leon to waste.”

“Mom, finished. Next?”

“Tell her to confess—is she seeing some man out there? Elias is coming to propose. She can’t embarrass her father.”

Octavia wrote: “Leon wants to get married. Mom wants to sell us sisters off quickly to earn a dowry for him.”

“Next, Mom?” Octavia looked up, still smiling.

“Of course, if this new man can provide a massive dowry, we might consider it.”

“Okay.” This time, Octavia wrote her mother’s words verbatim, but added a note at the end: “This is exactly what Mom said.”

“Anything else, Mom?” Octavia stopped, acting like a dutiful daughter.

“That’s it. Seal the letter and give it to me.”

Her mother reached out, but Octavia didn’t hand it over as usual. She sealed the envelope and gently pushed her mother toward the door. “I’m heading to the street soon. I’ll mail it for you. I’ll pay for express delivery. Don’t worry.”

Hearing "express" and "free," the mother left the room, satisfied.

Moments later, Octavia saw her mother return to the kitchen. She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper and wrote rapidly about Elias’s upcoming proposal. She also wrote about her ex-boyfriend suddenly getting rich, only to instantly get back together with Elias’s sister, Daisy.

Octavia was fuming. She didn’t even want that man anymore, but she couldn’t stand that bitch Daisy stealing him. It was a total win for Elias’s family.

In the letter, Octavia pleaded with her sister for the first time: Avenge me. Hit Elias hard. The harder, the better. I need this vent.

After making sure no one saw, Octavia rushed out to mail the letters.

Elena had no idea her sister was suddenly on her side. She was currently in a car with Roan, heading toward the county seat.

Roan had to report to Bruno at the Brigade Chief of Staff’s office. Elena was there to retrieve the maps and to ask Bruno face-to-face: where exactly was Mateo? She didn’t believe a Brigade Chief of Staff couldn’t track down a merchant. Didn't the camp have an intelligence department?

This jam business was too big to just let it vanish.

On the East Bank, Domenic was also searching everywhere for the jam. He had contacted several big city distributors. His uncle, a logistics manager, had even helped set up test sales points in other cities. A classmate in England even planned to modify the jam—just by adding sugar. A deal was finally on the horizon, but the supply had vanished.

The butcher’s wife hadn't been able to get him a single jar for days. Domenic had visited nearly ten of his father’s former subordinates and old friends. These people held significant ranks. Many had been promoted by his father, and some had even sworn to be Commander Ramon’s soulmates. One was even in charge of border intelligence.

But no one would help Domenic.

The reason was simple: Ramon had been stripped of his rank. He was a prisoner.

Of course, they didn't say that. They were polite. They claimed they didn't like jam, or hadn't heard of any jam from the other side. If they heard anything, they’d let him know.

Domenic waited for days. Zero feedback.

He realized he was on his own. His father’s old network was a dead end.

Through some street vagrants, Domenic finally tracked down Barrett, a young worker at a breakfast shop in the Riverside Market.

Barrett’s boss was the shop owner, who regularly passed messages to her brother, the butcher. Barrett was bound to know something.

Barrett also had a brother who ran a roadside calligraphy and painting stall.

Lately, Domenic had been dressing in plain clothes, blending into the market crowds to watch Barrett.

Most of the time, Barrett limped around delivering breakfast to vendors. Sometimes he went out for supplies. Every time Barrett went to the pork stall, Domenic went on high alert—creeping up behind him to listen to what he said to the fat butcher.

But Domenic soon found that Barrett only spoke of trivial things. The secrets were in the little slips of paper he handed over.

Today, the fat butcher took a note from Barrett, frowned, and stuffed it into his pocket.

How to get the content? Domenic had two ideas: buy it or steal it. One of them had to work.

“Barrett!”

Walking back from the pork stall, Barrett heard someone call his name from a street corner. He looked over, confused, and saw a slender man leaning lazily against a wall. The man wore a set of coarse cotton clothes, yet they were washed so clean they even showed the creases of new fabric—he was incredibly eye-catching.

As for the fair, rosy skin on his face and his neatly trimmed beard, those were even stranger. These streets were swarming with people who were nothing but skin and bones; how could a man in coarse cotton rags maintain such flawless, glowing skin and shoes that were completely spotless?

Barrett walked over, putting on a friendly smile. “Sir, was there something wrong with the breakfast I delivered? Please, tell me.”

“I’m satisfied!”

Seeing the man smile and pull out a hundred-dollar bill, Barrett didn't reach for it. He took two steps back.

A rich man pretending to be poor yet being so generous—something big was surely going on.

Some money looks like easy pickings, but on the other end of the scale, the price it tips is worth far more than the coins themselves.

"When a poor man gets money beyond his means, he mostly has to pay for it with his life."

This was his father’s last sentence before he died.

His father naively believed that fleeing to the East Bank would bring wealth and freedom. But the first money he earned on the East Bank was enlistment compensation. Then he was sent home wounded in battle, and finally died in bed from a lung infection.

Barrett and his brother asked about the pension many times. However, the military demanded proof that the lung infection was related to his leg wound. They could not provide it. They had no money for hospital treatment—where could they find proof?

"Sir, breakfast delivery is free here. We don’t have the custom of tipping. You must be used to staying abroad."

"You know I’ve stayed abroad?"

Now it was Domenic who looked confused.

"Oh, you’ve been looking everywhere for jam in the market. You’re already famous. Who doesn’t know you, a rich young master back from overseas, always mixing English words in his speech?" Barrett smiled shyly. He stuck to his principle: never offend others. If you don’t know someone’s intention, it’s better to be honest.

This was a rule set by his brother. Although he was only sixteen, he had used this rule for two years, and it worked quite well.

Since Barrett was so honest, Domenic decided to be direct. He leaned close to Barrett’s ear and whispered.

"What was written on the note you just handed to the boss’s brother? You can tell me quietly. This hundred dollars is yours. I promise I won’t tell anyone."

"So it's this!" Barrett’s expression relaxed. He waved his hand. "I wish I could read it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be limping around delivering breakfast every day. It’s all about how much the landlady pays for goods. I can’t read a single word. It’s a pity my father died early and never got the chance to send me to school."

Barrett turned around as he spoke, planning to ignore Domenic.

Unexpectedly, Domenic took two big steps forward and blocked Barrett’s way like a wall.

"Kid, don’t lie to me. Last night you and your brother were packing up the book stall, and you even joked about a little story on a painting. You can definitely read."

Barrett’s face twitched slightly. Though not angry, he asked in a very serious tone:

"That was just a story my brother taught me. I only repeated it from memory. What? Have you been stalking me? What’s there to stalk about a starving cripple like me? Are you planning something against the landlady?"

"Yes, I have been stalking you. And I know you and your brother are looking for the jam supplier. If I tell the landlady and the butcher that you can read and are searching for their jam source, guess if his butcher knife will point at your brother?"

"You…"

This young master spoke so lightly of things that could get people fired, starved, or even physically threatened. Barrett was so angry that the muscles at the corner of his mouth trembled.

"What exactly do you want?"

"Let’s be fair. You tell me what’s written on the note, and I’ll give you a hundred dollars. We’ll be even. How about it?"

Domenic held out the hundred-dollar bill again.

Barrett took the money and said coldly: "Seven sharp on the third night. Maple Lane, under the first lamppost. Someone will tell you."

With that, he walked around Domenic and continued limping forward, as if he didn’t know Domenic at all.

……

West Bank.

Elena and Roan walked into Bruno’s office together. Roan had to stand straight and salute Bruno.

But Bruno took off his military cap, held the two young people’s hands separately, and smiled like a kind father:

"I’ve finally been waiting for you."

When Roan set out in the morning, he had called Bruno in advance to inform him.

It only took them two hours to reach the county town, but in Bruno’s eyes, it felt like he had been waiting for years.

"Uncle…"

Roan had just spoken when Bruno pulled the two to the sofa opposite the office and poured tea for them personally.

"Sit! Sit down first…"

Through the open door, a young female soldier suddenly stepped in. She smiled at Bruno and said, "Chief of Staff, do you have guests? Do you need any help? I’ve brought the files..."

After some polite words, Elena’s eyes lit up. She finally saw what she wanted. What the female soldier was holding was clearly a stack of topographic map materials.

Sure enough, seeing Elena’s focused expression, Bruno pointed directly at Elena and said: "It’s nothing. They’re my own family. Give the documents to her."

Elena stood up politely, took the documents with both hands, watched the other leave, and then closed the office door.

Bruno was really thoughtful. Seeing Elena close the door, he knew she had something to say and stepped forward directly.

"Do you have something to tell uncle?"

"Yes." Elena smiled and asked: "Mateo is missing. Did your military lock him up? I have to find him."

Elena thought Bruno would be angry. She had asked about this on the phone and been refused by Bruno. Unexpectedly, Bruno smiled and sighed:

"What a little girl who loves making money! You’re perfect to be my niece-in-law. Roan, you mustn’t miss Elena."

"Who said I’m going to marry him?" Elena shouted, pretending to be angry.

Following Elena’s pointing finger, the two saw Roan’s face turn red all the way to his neck, as if he was drunk.