Chapter 1 - The Winter Seaside Town

The sky was overcast, and Yi Leng sat in the Human Resources office at Jiangdong Polytechnic University, his heart as cold as the weather outside. The faces of the staff became blurred, their voices floating like whispers in the farthest reaches of the sky.

“It’s been over half a year… Teacher Xiang Mo passed away in a car accident after resigning… the mother and daughter were both beyond saving… the school won’t take any responsibility, but from a humanitarian perspective…” Yi Leng didn’t listen to the rest. He stood up stiffly, walked out, and stepped into the first icy rain of the winter.

He remembered when he first met Xiang Mo. Friends gathered at a KTV to sing, and he received loud boos for his off-key rendition of "Ice Rain." Xiang Mo laughed so hard she almost fell over, her delicate body trembling with laughter. Later, Xiang Mo found out that Yi Leng could actually sing quite well; he had only performed poorly to break the ice and ease the awkward atmosphere.

“You’re a natural at acting like a scoundrel,” Xiang Mo said, lying in Yi Leng's arms, her delicate fingers tracing circles on his chest. This had happened a month after they first met.

Undeniably, Yi Leng was a man of great charm. He had a well-defined face, was tall, and possessed a high IQ. He could have entered Peking University or Tsinghua University with his academic achievements, but he was specially recruited by the Near Jiang International Relations Academy, taking on the insignia of an army officer. He joined the intelligence agency before graduation, spending most of his time on overseas missions. He rarely returned to the country, initially intending to relax and be a heartless scoundrel. But this time, he found himself falling for Xiang Mo.

At the time, Xiang Mo was still studying for her master’s at the Polytechnic, a meticulous and serious science student who never imagined falling so quickly into love. They married because of an unplanned pregnancy, and Yi Leng received a reprimand for it. Xiang Mo cut ties with her family, but both felt it was worth it. Finding a soulmate was not easy in this lifetime.

Due to work, their married life was filled with more separation than togetherness. Yi Leng was often on overseas assignments, disappearing for months at a time. But their small life was sweet as honey, especially when he saw their daughter begin to speak and walk. He was surrounded by an overwhelming sense of happiness.

Then, when their daughter turned ten, Yi Leng was captured during a secret mission overseas. He was first imprisoned in Guantanamo and later transferred to an island prison in the South Pacific. After four years of captivity, his longing for his wife and daughter was the only thing keeping him alive.

After escaping, he was rescued by a Panama-flagged freighter. He drifted at sea for two months before finally landing at Jiangwei Port. He snuck into the port’s truck and returned to the Near Jiang family home, only to find it occupied by strangers. He then went to his wife’s workplace for answers.

After enduring four years of suffering, the only thing waiting for him was the tragic news of the loss of his family. Even the strongest man couldn’t withstand such a blow. Before he realized it, the icy rain turned to snow, and Yi Leng reached the plaza at the South Station of Jiangjiang High-Speed Rail. Four years ago, Xiang Mo had been there to see him off with their daughter, never imagining it would be their final farewell.

Yi Leng sat quietly on a bench in the plaza. Snowflakes fell on him, melting into cold water that soaked his clothes, but he didn’t feel the cold. His heart had already frozen.

Tonight, he wanted to spend time with his wife and daughter, even if it meant in the cold of a cemetery. He walked to a nearby convenience store to use the phone to call the Human Resources office at the Polytechnic, asking where Xiang Mo and their daughter had been buried.

“Is this the gentleman who came this afternoon? Apologies, our colleague didn’t have all the information. Teacher Xiang’s daughter was resuscitated and released from the hospital, taken by relatives. As for Teacher Xiang’s body, it was donated according to her wishes. We don’t know the details.”

“Warm Warm is still alive!” Yi Leng’s frozen heart suddenly burned with hope.

He hung up, rubbing his hands together, feeling a pang of hunger. In fact, he hadn't eaten anything for forty-eight hours since disembarking from the freighter. Hungry and weak, he bought a loaf of bread and a bottle of water from the store and returned to the bench for a makeshift meal.

Just then, an Alphard minivan passed through the plaza, and the girl inside caught a glimpse of Yi Leng, devouring his food. A man, seemingly weathered by life, sat alone in the snow, eating bread, his body covered in snowflakes. He had clearly been sitting in the snow for a long time. Occasionally, he raised his hand to wipe his eyes, perhaps on the verge of tears. Though men don’t cry easily, this man had clearly faced his greatest hardships, yet he remained strong, fighting to live. The girl felt her heart heavy, as if struck by a hammer, clutching her chest in pain.

“Ali, how do you feel?” asked the concerned woman beside her.

“This heart really suits me,” the girl, who had received a heart transplant six months ago, smiled. She couldn’t help but feel a sudden pang of sadness. Turning back, she noticed the man on the bench was gone.

“Home is better. The wait’s so much shorter here. If this were in the US, who knows how long we’d have to wait…” Her mother continued to ramble.

Yi Leng stood in the ticket hall. Four years had changed so much. The glass window reflected his face, but it wasn’t Yi Leng’s face anymore.

It was a stranger’s face, altered by cosmetic surgery. Even his own parents might not recognize him, let alone his daughter.

Yi Leng smiled bitterly. The current difficulty was that buying a ticket required an ID card or passport, but he had nothing to prove his identity.

Now, he was an individual without nationality, a stateless person. Due to his failed mission and long imprisonment, he couldn’t even return to his organization. He knew well what his fate would be: endless interrogation, and possibly being secretly executed as a traitor. He had grown weary of it all. The only thing he wanted now was to see his daughter.

As a field agent, small issues like this couldn’t stop him. He easily swiped a station worker’s magnetic card and entered the station, boarding the last train to Jiangwei.

High-speed trains were fast. Three hours later, Yi Leng arrived in Jiangwei. He noticed an elderly man with a lot of luggage and helped him carry it. After getting off the train, Yi Leng discreetly followed the man through the exit and managed to get into the man’s family’s private car, which took him into the city.

Jiangwei Shipyard was Xiang Mo’s hometown, a beautiful coastal city. Yi Leng had never visited his in-laws’ house, but the address was engraved in his mind: Shipyard New Village, Building 17, Unit 3, Apartment 202. It was also the address on Xiang Mo’s ID card. The building was old, built in the 1980s, and might have been demolished by now.

In the dead of night, with snowflakes falling and few people on the streets, Yi Leng put on his hoodie and found Xiang Mo’s old home. It was an old building from the 1980s, and just beyond the wall was the Jiangwei Shipyard.

From a distance, Yi Leng saw the light still shining from the window of Apartment 202. The pink curtains had cartoon Pikachu designs, perhaps where Xiang Mo had lived as a child. Maybe his daughter was behind that window right now. He longed to knock on the door, tell his in-laws, and tell his daughter that he had come back.

But he couldn’t afford to act recklessly. His in-laws didn’t know his true occupation, and his daughter wouldn’t recognize this face, altered by surgery. More importantly, his identity would bring deadly danger to his family.

Fourteen-year-old Yi Nuannuan was behind the Pikachu curtain, her diary spread out under an old desk lamp that had belonged to her mother. She was recording the worries of a teenage girl.

She was a transfer student in the second year of junior high at Jiangwei Experimental No. 2 Middle School. Growing up in a single-parent household had left her with a sense of insecurity. After her mother’s death in the car accident, Yi Nuannuan moved to Jiangwei to live with her grandparents. She had poor eyesight, slightly crooked teeth, and hearing problems due to the accident. She had been an excellent student, but after losing her parents, her emotions plummeted, and so did her grades. The term “ugly duckling” seemed tailor-made for a girl like Yi Nuannuan.

In the diary was a photo, a family portrait taken on Nuan Nuan’s tenth birthday. Her father was handsome, her mother beautiful, and she looked like a little princess. Nuan Nuan gently stroked the photo, tears falling from her eyes, her heart aching. How she wished to go back to that time—it was perhaps the happiest and most fulfilling period of her life.

Her grandmother pushed the door open and said loudly, "Nuan Nuan, don’t study too late. You need to wake up early tomorrow. Don’t forget to take your lunch."

"I know," replied Yi Nuan Nuan as she took the lunchbox from her schoolbag. She opened the window and placed the lunchbox on the anti-theft net, using it like a natural refrigerator. At that moment, she noticed someone standing in the distance, but didn’t pay it much attention. She closed the window after setting the lunchbox down.

In less than a second, Yi Leng, standing far away, caught a glimpse of his daughter. Though he was too far to make out her features, his sixth sense told him it was definitely his and Xiang Mo’s daughter, Yi Nuan Nuan.

His daughter had grown up. Yi Leng tried hard to control his emotions as he turned and left. He had no home to return to. He was looking for a place to spend the winter night when he suddenly noticed a restaurant still open on the street. The neon sign read: Yumei Restaurant.

Yi Leng pushed aside the heavy cotton curtain. Inside the narrow restaurant were only four large tables. The proprietress was behind the counter, tallying the accounts. Shelves lined with cigarettes and alcohol adorned the walls, and a statue of the God of Wealth stood nearby.

“Sorry, the kitchen’s closed. We’re done for the night,” the proprietress said without raising her head. She was wearing a high-necked black sweater that showed off her curvaceous figure.

“I just got off the train. I’ll just have something hot, anything is fine,” Yi Leng said.

“Alright, a bowl of plain noodles for ten yuan, I’ll make it for you,” the proprietress said as she put down her pen and headed to the kitchen.

Yi Leng walked up to the counter and noticed a piece of A4 paper near the incense burner in front of the God of Wealth. It read "Restaurant for Sale," the ink still not dry. The accounts were messy, with many corrections.

Five minutes later, the proprietress brought out a bowl of noodles. The noodles were made with pre-made noodles, mixed with broth, a drizzle of sesame oil, and topped with finely chopped green onions. A boiled egg lay on top, fragrant and appetizing.

Yi Leng ate the noodles quickly, like a whirlwind, then patted his pockets. All he had left was a steel coin.

The proprietress noticed his predicament. Yi Leng had messy hair, old clothes, and a stubbled face—he looked disheveled.

“You can go. No need to pay,” she said.

“Thank you. I’ll settle it tomorrow,” Yi Leng replied, thanking her as he was about to leave. Just then, five or six people entered, braving the cold wind. They were workers from a nearby shipyard, just off their late-night shift and ready for a snack.

“Sorry, the kitchen’s closed,” the proprietress repeated.

“Anything’s fine, there must be some cold dishes, and bring another beer,” the leader of the workers said.

The proprietress hesitated. It was clear she didn’t want to turn down a big order, but she was afraid her cooking might not be up to par. Just as she was uncertain, Yi Leng walked into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” the proprietress asked, following him.

Yi Leng surveyed the small kitchen. It had everything needed—gas stoves, iron pots hanging on the wall. He tied on an apron, opened the fridge, and took out a whole chicken, placing it on the chopping board. With a quick series of chops, he started boiling water, using the tap to cool the stove.

“Don’t just stand there. Get some cucumbers, skin some century eggs, and bring out some peanuts in vinegar. Open all the beers,” Yi Leng directed as he sliced ginger, garlic, and green onions. The gas stove burned hot and fast, bringing the water to a boil. The chicken was blanched, and the oil in the pan crackled as he tossed the chicken pieces, quickly adding dried chili, Sichuan peppercorns, ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and cooking wine. The fragrance filled the air as he added broth.

The proprietress served the cold dishes to the workers, opened the beers, and chatted with them for a moment. When she returned, the chicken was done. Yi Leng had it served in a clay pot with scallions, onions, cilantro, and celery, ready to be served.

“Serve it up,” Yi Leng said, “We don’t have much time, so I skipped a few steps, but it’s alright. The customers won’t mind. With some dried tofu, noodles, mushrooms, and greens, they’ll be satisfied.”

The proprietress, carrying the clay pot, took it out. As she passed by, she glanced back. Yi Leng was chopping potatoes into thin strips. From the sound of the knife striking the board, she could tell he was an experienced chef.

Yi Leng quickly prepared a simple dish of sour and spicy shredded potatoes and personally brought it out. He sat down with the workers, sharing a beer. With a man at the table, the workers’ lewd stares at the proprietress became more restrained.

The group drank and chatted loudly until 2 a.m. When the bill came, it totaled 285 yuan. Yi Leng rounded it down and paid only 280.

The restaurant returned to quiet. The two of them cleaned up, working together like a well-matched couple.

“Where did you learn to cook?” the proprietress asked.

“I worked in a canteen, cooking for over a thousand people,” Yi Leng said. This wasn’t a lie—he had worked in a prison kitchen for three years.

“It's so late. Do you have somewhere to go?” she asked. “By the way, I’m Wu Yumei.”

“I...” Yi Leng’s gaze fell on a yellow cloth tiger doll on the counter. “I’m Huang Pihu.”

“Old Huang, if you don’t mind, you can stay here. Just put the tables together and sleep. We have bedding, pillows, and an electric heater,” Wu Yumei offered.

“Thank you, boss,” Yi Leng accepted her kindness.

Wu Yumei was slightly surprised. Everyone else called her “boss lady,” but Huang Pihu had immediately recognized her as the true owner. However, she didn’t comment, pulling down the rolling door and leaving through the back, locking it from the inside.

“It’s late. Let me walk you out,” Yi Leng said politely.

Wu Yumei was probably used to walking home at this hour. It wasn’t dangerous, but she appreciated his concern. “It’s fine, I have a car,” she said, waving her car keys. Outside, a worn-out Wuling Hongguang was parked in the alley.

After watching her car’s taillights fade, Yi Leng returned to the restaurant. This Wu Yumei had a bold, gallant spirit. She wasn’t afraid to let a stranger stay in her shop, without worrying about being robbed.

Yi Leng pushed the tables together, laid out bedding, turned off the lights, and lay down. The surroundings were perfectly quiet. He could even hear the sound of snow crushing fallen branches.

In the seaside town where Xiang Mo had grown up, Yi Leng spent a sleepless night.

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