Lin Xiaoxiao was amused that even Zhou Zhennan and Li Yunlan had learned to be mysterious.

Humoring them, she went to pick up An'an.

The babies had already figured out that when the adults ate, they were supposed to watch—and if they weren't being held, they'd all cry in protest.

They'd also watch everyone eating and mimic chewing with their little mouths. An'an, especially, knew exactly when to reach out and try to grab food.

Parenting in this era wasn't as precise as in the future. No one avoided salt before one year old or kept honey away from babies.

Li Yunlan and Zhou Liyun had started feeding the children rice broth at four months, and by now they were occasionally given bits of noodles.

Zhou Lingling even dipped the clean end of a chopstick in vinegar and dabbed it on the boys' lips, chuckling as they puckered and shuddered at the sourness, tiny fists clenching.

Lin Xiaoxiao thought about saying something about scientific childcare, but she knew it was pointless to argue. Besides, challenging them might only make things awkward.

This was how children were raised in these times—and somehow, they grew up just fine, maybe even hardier for it.

So she just smiled as her sons squinted and squirmed from the sour taste.

Li Yunlan, however, wasn't having it. "Lingling, you're their aunt! Look how sour they look."

Zhou Lingling just grinned, picked up another clean chopstick, and fed each baby a tiny strand of noodle.

The two boys opened their mouths like little birds waiting to be fed.

Zhou Zhennan couldn't help smiling either. He turned to Zhou Xiaocheng. "Uncle Zhao mentioned you're working on an old homicide case—one you volunteered for?"

Zhou Xiaocheng nodded. "Yes. Uncle Zhao thinks it's been too long—no evidence, almost impossible to solve. He says since I'm new, I should focus on simpler cases first, build up a record."

He'd been assigned to the criminal investigation division, and the bureau chief happened to be an old comrade of Zhou Zhennan's. Naturally, the man kept Zhou Zhennan informed.

Zhou Zhennan agreed with his old friend. "Xiaocheng, I know you're not impatient, but you're young for a team leader. Some people might question your experience. You should listen to Uncle Zhao."

Zhou Xiaocheng remained calm. "Don't worry, Dad. I have a lead. I'm close to a breakthrough."

After the meal, Li Yunlan happily brought out a letter from her study and handed it to Lin Xiaoxiao. "This is from Huaian. I didn't give it to you earlier—I was afraid you wouldn't eat. You can read it now."

Lin Xiaoxiao stared in disbelief. "Zhou Huaian wrote?"

Li Yunlan nodded. "One for you, one for the family. Here, I'll hold An'an. Go read your letter."

Lin Xiaoxiao handed over the baby and, without a second thought, ran upstairs with the letter. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the plain white envelope for a long moment before carefully tearing it open.

Inside were two thin sheets of paper, filled with Zhou Huaian's strong, precise handwriting—each stroke firm and deliberate, as if she could see him bending over the paper, writing intently.

She read slowly, carefully, not wanting to rush through it.

Zhou Huaian wasn't one for romantic words. There were no "I miss you's" or sweet nothings.

Instead, he wrote about life along the Lancang River—how people lived, how children grew up. He asked after the babies, whether they were being difficult.

Most of the letter described the harshness of border life: farmers shot while fetching water, families shattered by the loss of their only ox, the weight of despair.

But it was the last lines that struck her deepest:

...I stay so they may know peace. So that our children may never understand war...

Tears welled in Lin Xiaoxiao's eyes. This was his way of explaining why he couldn't come home—not yet.

She read the letter over and over. Though he never said "I miss you," the way he'd written her name—with extra care, each stroke deliberate—said everything she needed to hear.

When she finally went back downstairs, her heart was heavy but calm.

She wanted to ask Zhou Zhennan if she could write back—to tell Zhou Huaian about the children, and maybe send photos.

In the living room, only Zhou Lingling and Zhou Xiaocheng remained; everyone else had gone to nap with the children.

Zhou Lingling grinned when she saw her. "What did my brother say? Did he say he misses you and the babies?"

Lin Xiaoxiao smiled faintly. "You know your brother. Do you really think he'd write something like that?"

Zhou Lingling thought for a second, then laughed. "No, definitely not."

Suddenly, she jumped up. "I'm going to buy popsicles! We should eat them now before the kids wake up and start begging."

She was already heading out the door—always acting first, thinking later.

Lin Xiaoxiao was about to follow when Zhou Xiaocheng stopped her. "Sis, can I ask a favor?"

She waited until Zhou Lingling was gone, then followed him out into the courtyard.

Zhou Xiaocheng came straight to the point. "My brother told me you're not afraid to dissect cadavers."

Lin Xiaoxiao was surprised Zhou Huaian had shared that. She nodded. "I'm not squeamish."

Then she eyed him curiously. "You don't want me to help you with a dissection, do you? Don't you have forensic doctors?"

"This would be... unofficial," he said quietly.

Lin Xiaoxiao was intrigued. An unofficial dissection? But Zhou Xiaocheng wasn't the type to act recklessly. She agreed without hesitation.

"Alright. I also know a little about lab work. Maybe I can help with that, too."

Zhou Xiaocheng looked relieved. "Thank you. But please don't mention this to Mom and Dad. I don't want them to worry."

"Don't worry, I won't." She paused. "Is this about the case you mentioned at lunch?"

He nodded. "It's related. An old man asked me to help clear his son and daughter-in-law's names."

So that was it—he was doing this for someone else.

She didn't press further. As she turned to go back inside, Zhou Lingling came rushing back, balancing a bowl of popsicles and sweating lightly.

She looked at Zhou Xiaocheng with wide eyes. "You'll never guess who I just saw at the gate."