During dinner, Li Yunlan noticed that Zhou Xiaoling still hadn’t returned. “It’s not like Xiaoling to be out so late—she should have been back from school by now,” she remarked, a hint of worry in her voice.

Lin Xiaoxiao didn’t want to alarm her mother-in-law by revealing that Zhou Xiaoling was at the hospital taking care of Lin Zihao, so she quickly made up an excuse. “Xiaoling mentioned this morning that she had a meeting after school today. She probably won’t be back until after nine.”

By that time, Zhou Huaian would already be at the hospital, and Zhou Xiaoling would be free to come home.

Li Yunlan seemed reassured. Though it was late, she knew Xiaoling was more than capable of looking after herself.

The three little ones were happily eating fish puree—Lin Xiaoxiao had decided to mash the fish instead of making balls, worried they might choke. They eagerly opened their mouths, insisting that only their father feed them.

Zhou Huaian patiently obliged, though in his hurry he sometimes mixed up their spoons. Once the children were fed, he glanced at the clock and left for the hospital without eating much himself.

Li Yunlan watched him go, muttering under her breath, “What’s keeping him so busy these days? Always rushing out and coming back late.”

This time, Lin Xiaoxiao didn’t hide the truth. “One of his comrades was injured.”

Li Yunlan looked concerned. “Who is it? Is it serious? If he’s not from Beijing, we could always have him recuperate here—there’s a room downstairs we can tidy up.”

Lin Xiaoxiao wasn’t surprised by her generosity. “It’s quite serious—he hasn’t woken up yet. We’ll know more once he does.”

Li Yunlan began quietly praying. “Please let him be okay… They’re all so young. He must recover.”

Zhou Xiaoling returned more than an hour after Zhou Huaian had left. By then, Li Yunlan and the others had already put the children to bed, and Zhou Xiaocheng had gone out. Only Lin Xiaoxiao remained in the living room, holding a sleeping An’an, with the housekeeper waiting nearby.

Seeing Zhou Xiaoling’s red-rimmed eyes as she entered, Lin Xiaoxiao asked the housekeeper to warm up dinner, then turned to Xiaoling and asked softly, “What happened? Is he awake?”

He must be—otherwise why would she have been crying?

Xiaoling sank onto the sofa beside her, wiping fresh tears away. “He’s awake… but he doesn’t remember anything.”

Lin Xiaoxiao let out a soft sigh. Still, it was a relief—losing his memory was far better than remaining in a coma.

Xiaoling leaned back, eyes closed but still leaking tears, too tired to say more. Lin Xiaoxiao didn’t press her, simply staying quietly by her side.

When the food was ready, Lin Xiaoxiao sent the housekeeper to rest. She carried An’an to the small kitchen table and sat across from Xiaoling. “Eat something. Waking up is already a good sign—better than we expected.”

Xiaoling picked up her bowl and shoveled in a few mouthfuls of rice, tears dripping into the grains. She kept eating stubbornly, as though forcing herself to go on.

“You don’t have to eat if you’re not up to it,” Lin Xiaoxiao said gently.

Xiaoling put down the bowl and wiped her face roughly. “Sis, it hurts so much. Lin Zihao woke up, but… his mind is like a child’s—seven or eight years old, at most.”

The moment he opened his eyes, she saw only innocence in his gaze. Then he called her “big sister.” She couldn’t bear it.

Lin Xiaoxiao was stunned—he’d lost his intellect? Still, he was alive. That in itself was a miracle. There might be surgeries later, or time might bring recovery.

“This outcome is already a blessing,” she comforted. “He’s alive—that’s one miracle. Not being vegetative is another. With so many miracles already, he will get better.”

“But he was always so proud,” Xiaoling said bitterly. “Now he’s like this… It’s just heartbreaking.”

“Remember, Xiaoling,” Lin Xiaoxiao said firmly, “nothing matters more than being alive. Where there’s life, there’s hope. Once someone’s gone, there’s nothing left.”

Xiaoling seemed to take her words in. She calmed down a little and began describing how Lin Zihao had behaved after waking.

“When he called me ‘big sister,’ my blood ran cold. He looked so pure and confused, just like a little kid.”

Lin Xiaoxiao couldn’t help a small smile. “Maybe it’s not so bad. Now you can boss him around all you want.”

Xiaoling puffed her cheeks. “I know, but seeing him like this… it’s just sad.”

How could a man who once stood so tall suddenly become a helpless child?

Zhou Huaian was equally shocked to find Lin Zihao not only awake, but with the mind of a six-year-old.

When Lin Zihao saw him, he grew nervous and looked toward the door. “Where’s that big sister? Who are you?”

Zhou Huaian pulled a stool beside the bed and gently held him down. “You’ve got a head injury—you can’t move around yet, or you’ll reopen the wound.”

Lin Zihao frowned and tried to touch his head, but Zhou Huaian stopped him. “Don’t move—you’ll disturb the IV, too.”

His tone came out sharper than intended. Aside from Lin Xiaoxiao and the children, Zhou Huaian rarely softened his voice.

Lin Zihao shrank back, eyes wide with fear. “Why are you so mean? I want that big sister.”

Zhou Huaian closed his eyes briefly. How was he supposed to handle a grown man with a child’s mind? Especially one with Lin Zihao’s face. He couldn’t bring himself to talk like to a baby.

So he just sat sternly, watching as Lin Zihao grew upset, then tired himself out and fell asleep. Rubbing his temples, Zhou Huaian sighed. He was still learning how to soothe his own three little ones—now he had a “several-hundred-month-old child” to deal with too. The thought was exhausting.