Ran Yuwei's house was bought with a mortgage. She bought it early. She lived alone in the hundred-square-meter house.

The home was stylishly furnished but lacked a lived-in feel. She didn't cook; her meals were all handled at her work unit's cafeteria. When Song Ran came, the two of them either ate at restaurants or ordered takeout.

Song Ran used to cook.

During the summer vacation of her second year of middle school, Ran Yuwei and her then-boyfriend, a diplomat, would get off work late. Song Ran would buy groceries and cook dinner herself, waiting obediently and proudly for her mother to come home.

When Ran Yuwei came home and saw the table full of dishes, she was speechless for a long time. Then, she made a phone call to Song Zhicheng and gave him a furious scolding. She questioned how Yang Huilun was abusing her daughter, asking why Ran Ran knew how to cook at such a young age.

Yang Huilun was actually very good to Song Ran, almost too good.

The residents of the corridor-style apartment building were all colleagues from Song Zhicheng's work unit and intellectuals; any major event in one household wouldn't escape the notice of others. Yang Huilun hadn't had much education and was timid at heart. Fearing that outsiders would call her a wicked stepmother, she was exceptionally good to Song Ran, treating her like a guest. Song Ran, in turn, would always take the initiative to do things to please her stepmother, or perhaps to prove she wasn't a guest. This subtle psychological state was quietly brought to Di City. At that diplomat's home, she had to prove she wasn't a troublesome guest who was there to freeload. It was just that when she came again the following year, her mother's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen.

Over the years, Ran Yuwei had been in several relationships, but none of them ended well. To this day, she remained single.

The two ordered Japanese takeout. Song Ran found a few bottles of good yuzu wine in the fridge, added some ice, and started drinking.

Ran Yuwei poured herself some red wine and asked, "You've been running all over the city these past few days. What have you been busy with?"

"Looking up some historical materials. About Dongguo, it's really hard to find." In truth, she had contacted Luo Junfeng, a well-known bestselling book planner, but she didn't want her mother to know. "I've been going to libraries. I couldn't find them in Liang City before."

Ran Yuwei returned to the topic they had discussed in the car: "Di City's resources really can't be compared to Liang City's. If you want to develop your career properly, you have to come here."

Song Ran was still resistant, whether it was resistance to Di City or to Ran Yuwei, she didn't know. Perhaps in her eyes, Di City was equivalent to Ran Yuwei. She said, "I don't have any great ambitions. The way things are now is fine."

"I see you're just like your dad."

"I'm his daughter, of course I'm just like him."

Ran Yuwei looked up at her. The woman in her forties had crow's feet at the corners of her eyes that makeup couldn't hide. She said coldly, "You're his daughter, so you're not my daughter anymore?"

Song Ran couldn't take it anymore and said in a low voice, "Can you not act like a child?"

Ran Yuwei scoffed, "Your wings have grown strong."

Song Ran was speechless.

Back then, when Ran Yuwei and Song Zhicheng fought for custody, Song Zhicheng dragged his feet and refused to divorce. Ran Yuwei was utterly disgusted by her cheating husband. Just to get divorced and head north as quickly as possible, she gave up the division of assets and also gave up Song Ran. Little Song Ran was only two or three years old at the time, holding onto the base of the wall, running and wailing for her mother.

Ran Yuwei said, word for word, "It was Song Zhicheng who betrayed that family."

This was the greatest pain and failure of her life.

Back then, she had ignored her parents' opposition to marry Song Zhicheng, who had nothing but talent. After just over three years of marriage, she again ignored her parents' opposition, left with nothing, and resolutely departed Liang City to make a life for herself in Di City alone.

It was her pride; she couldn't tolerate a failed marriage that felt like her dignity was being trampled. To this day, she refuses to return to Liang City. Her relationship with her parents had also deteriorated to an extreme, right up until they passed away one after another.

And although Song Ran had known since she was young that her father was the betrayer, she had lived with him for a long time. He was a father who had never wronged her and genuinely loved her, so she couldn't hate him the way her mother did.

Ran Yuwei refilled her glass halfway with red wine and asked, "If you want to stay there, then stay. Did Song Zhicheng say when he's going to buy you a house?"

Song Ran didn't say a word, not understanding why her mother's every sentence could sting her.

"Your maternal grandmother's house belongs to your uncle. Ran Chi is still in school, so you can live there for a year or two. When he grows up and wants to start a family, you'll have to move out."

Song Ran said, "Isn't that still a few years away? I'll buy a house in a few years."

"With that salary of four or five thousand, you can afford to buy one?"

"If I can't afford to buy, I'll rent. Am I going to sleep on the street?" She simply let out all the rebellious spirit she had never used in her life.

"Fine," Ran Yuwei said. "How promising."

For the remaining few days in Di City, Ran Yuwei didn't bring up the matter again.

During this period, Song Ran met with Luo Junfeng once. Luo Junfeng was a renowned book planner in the industry, having created dozens of bestsellers. From humanities to bizarre fiction, from spiritual journeys to historical anecdotes, his scope was wide and the quality was excellent, all top-tier within the country.

He was an elegant and composed man in his thirties, dressed in a white shirt and wearing black-rimmed glasses, exuding an elite aura with a hint of cultural refinement:

"I've watched every episode of 'Pre-war? A Record of Dongguo'. This story is well worth writing. Although a documentary has its objective way of presenting things, in my opinion, the author's subjective feelings and experiences are also very valuable."

Song Ran strongly agreed. When making the program, she had omitted too many of her personal thoughts, which were precisely what she wanted to write about.

"However, the title 'Pre-war? A Record of Dongguo' is too rigid."

"I wanted to call it 'Chronicles of Dongguo', but my superior changed it."

"I like the name you came up with," Luo Junfeng said. "Books on the topic of war chronicles are in short supply in the market. With proper handling, it could easily become popular. A war correspondent, and a female one at that, is very eye-catching. However, setting those things aside, the essence still needs to return to the content of the work itself."

Song Ran nodded lightly. "Okay."

"Will you be going back to Dongguo?"

"It depends on my work unit's arrangements. Why?"

"From a book-making perspective, without a second half, the story feels unfinished. Do you know what I mean?"

Song Ran didn't tell her mother about meeting Luo Junfeng. She hoped to write a good book but was also afraid her abilities weren't up to the task. It was better to keep it a secret before anything was certain.

When the mother and daughter weren't discussing serious matters, they could coexist peacefully. But due to the nature of Ran Yuwei's work, she was largely a preachy and controlling type of mother. Whenever she had free time with Song Ran, she had to talk about every detail of her work, social life, and future plans. Just talking would have been fine, but she had too many opinions and differing views, and a strong need for control. The two of them would always end up parting on bad terms.

Four days later, Song Ran returned to Liang City. Ran Yuwei drove her to the airport, dropping her off at the departures level. She didn't even get out of the car, just waved goodbye and left.

Song Ran watched her white car disappear down the road and couldn't help but sigh.

Back in Liang City, the rain had long since stopped.

Last week's downpour seemed to have finally emptied all the water from the sky. The sky was so blue there wasn't a single cloud, only a vast expanse of scorching sunlight.

Stepping out of the airport, the air was scorching hot and humid, rushing to meet her, like walking on a windless beach at high noon.

This was Liang City, where she had lived for almost 23 years. Always leaving, yet always returning.

Song Ran took a car back to Qingzhi Lane. It was already dusk.

The lane was filled with the evening glow and the fragrance of honeysuckle. When she reached her doorstep, her next-door neighbor was laying a concrete floor. She curiously leaned over and asked, "Grandma Wang, are you getting a moisture barrier installed?"

"That's right. It's not going to rain again for a while. Getting it done early."

Song Ran glanced at the construction crew working inside the house and asked in a low voice, "Are they any good?"

"They're pretty good. Grandma Zhang and Grandma Xu both used them. The price is fair, and they're very conscientious."

Song Ran said, "I want to get it done for my house too. I just haven't been able to find a construction crew."

Hearing this, Grandma Wang immediately and enthusiastically helped her arrange it.

The construction crew's leader, Old Li, was about fifty years old with a kind face. Old Li used to be a construction quality inspection engineer at China X Construction Engineering Group, Jiang City Branch. He took early retirement but couldn't stay idle, so he formed a construction team to take on jobs. Song Ran naturally felt at ease with someone who had worked in engineering his whole life and quickly scheduled him to start work on the weekend.

The next day was a workday. By eight in the morning, the sun was already up, its rays making the leaves in the courtyard shine as if oiled.

Before leaving, Song Ran took the large black umbrella that belonged to Li Zan. She liked that umbrella very much—it was simple, with a large, thick canopy, and felt solid and reassuring in her hand.

Her workday was finally over. As soon as she got off work, she took the bus to the garrison area, holding the umbrella.

In early July, the vegetation on Luoyu Mountain was lush, growing in vast, wild, and crazy patches that blotted out the sky. The leaves were a glossy, heavy green, as if sated after feasting on sunlight and rain.

Looking at the green covering the mountain, Song Ran was in a very good mood.

After getting off the bus and crossing the road into the garrison area, she found it deserted. Only the setting sun hung over the low building outside the training ground, emitting its last bit of warmth.

Song Ran walked to the empty lot. Most of the cars were gone. A majestic-looking military vehicle was parked next to her car, making her little Alto look exceptionally small. She glanced at the military vehicle's license plate; it was the same one Li Zan had driven last time. The doors were shut tight, and no one was inside.

She slowly walked over, looking around as she went. The vicinity was quiet, with no one in sight.

She stepped into the shadow of a tree and stood there for a while, stroking the handle of the umbrella, before finally placing it on the hood of the military vehicle.

She opened the door of her Alto and sat down, leaning her head against the seat. The back of the seat was scorching hot against her back. The temperature inside the car was high, so she turned on the air conditioning to cool it down.

Wind gusted from the vents.

The walls of the gray-white building were veiled in a layer of sunset glow, looking very quiet. Behind the building was a dense mountain forest with thick, green leaves. She suddenly thought of Dongguo, of those vast olive groves covered in dust.

The temperature inside the car had completely cooled down. She glanced at her watch; nearly ten minutes had passed.

She couldn't wait too long, or the guards at the main gate would become suspicious. She glanced at the black umbrella on the car next to hers, finally sat up straight, and prepared to buckle her seatbelt, but in her peripheral vision, she caught sight of someone walking out from behind the corner of that building.

A short-sleeved combat uniform, a belt, long pants, military boots—a very familiar figure.

Song Ran immediately unbuckled her seatbelt, reached out to turn down the air conditioning, and pretended she had just gotten into the car.

Li Zan walked toward her. Because he was facing the setting sun, he was squinting slightly. As he got closer, he saw her in the car.

Song Ran rolled the car window all the way down and greeted him, "Officer Li."

He gave a slight nod and asked, "Here to get your car?"

"Yes," Song Ran said. "It's been parked here for a week. Sorry for the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all," he said with a small smile.

Song Ran noticed that he smiled often, but never a loud laugh. It was always gentle, faint, like a light breeze.

But it also seemed... as if it were merely out of politeness... and would never get any closer.

"And the umbrella," she said, pointing. "I brought it."

She had closed the long umbrella that had been on the hood. Each panel of the canopy was smoothed out and neatly arranged, rolled up tightly, and fastened securely with the strap.

He opened his car door, put the umbrella inside, and bent over to search for something between the seats.

About ten seconds later, he closed the car door, holding two books and two bottles of water.

He handed her a bottle. Song Ran took the opportunity to glance quickly and saw that he was holding advanced physics and chemistry books, and they were in English.

'He likes to read...'

"Thank you," she said, taking the water. "And for last time, I have to thank you for that too."

"Last time?" Li Zan raised an eyebrow slightly.

Song Ran explained, "Boke Pagoda."

"Oh..." he responded casually, placing the books on the hood of the car and twisting open his bottle of water to take a sip. As the man tilted his head back, the line of his jaw was sharp, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Song Ran shifted her gaze, looking at the small white bottle cap in his hand.

He only took one sip before screwing the cap back on. Then he looked at her, his gaze very quiet. But he was a soldier, after all, and even his silent gaze held a subtle power.

Song Ran spoke slowly, continuing the topic, "It took me a long time to find information on the destruction of Boke Pagoda; it's too obscure. Do you study Dongguo's history?"

Li Zan tightened the bottle cap, smiled faintly, and said, "The locals told me."

Song Ran was taken aback.

He picked up the books from the car's hood, tapped it lightly, and nodded in farewell. "I'm off."

"...Okay."

"Oh..." He had just turned to leave when he remembered something and took a step back. "Is my string still with you?"

Song Ran: "Huh?"

He waved his hand. "If it's lost, then never mind."

"Ah. It's here," she said quickly. "But it's at my house."

She lied. The red string was right there in her bag.

She lowered her eyelashes, then raised them again. "I don't have it on me. I'll return it to you next time?"

"Okay."

Song Ran pressed, "How will I return it next time?"

He thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you have a pen and paper?"

"Yes."

Song Ran lowered her head to rummage through her bag for a pen and paper, guiltily avoiding the red string lying inside. She handed him the notepad and pen.

He walked over, placed his water bottle and folder on the roof of her car, took the pen and paper, and leaned over slightly, resting on her car's windowsill to write. The man's figure suddenly blocked the daylight from outside the window.

Song Ran raised her eyes to sneak a peek at his lowered face. His brow bone was high, his eyelashes were long, and his complexion was healthy—not overly fair, nor dark.

He quickly wrote down a string of numbers, tapped the paper lightly with the tip of his pen, and straightened up.

Her gaze naturally shifted to the notepad. On it was written the character "Li," followed by a string of numbers for a phone number.

He said, "Sorry for the trouble."

She took it. "It's my duty. I'm the one who should be sorry; I accidentally pulled it off."

He gave a faint, noncommittal smile.

"Is that string for good luck?" she asked.

"Yes." He seemed to remember something and reached for the paper again. "If I'm on duty, call another number."

Song Ran gave him the paper. Seeing the serious look on his face as he bent down to write the number, she hesitated for a moment before saying, "A gift from a family member?"

He didn't answer at first. Only when he had finished writing and handed it to her did he look up at her and say, "Yes."

Song Ran steeled herself and said, "Then I'll leave my number with you too, just in case I get busy and forget. You shouldn't lose something so important again."