The sudden voice startled Xu Wanníng so much that her hand jerked. She'd been applying medicine to Mother Lin's leg and accidentally pressed right on her old injury. The old woman gasped sharply in pain.
"Mom, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you."
Xu Wanníng quickly tore her gaze away from the man in the doorway and bent down to check the wound.
"It's fine, it's fine!"
Mother Lin's cloudy eyes fixed on the man, tears glimmering in the corners.
"An'er, you're finally home!"
Lin An had come back full of fury and hadn't noticed the peaceful atmosphere between his wife and mother. Hearing his mother's emotional tone, he instinctively assumed Xu Wanníng had done something terrible again.
When Xu Wanníng looked up, her eyes met his—cold, filled with disgust.
She sighed heavily in her heart, carefully sealed the leftover ointment in a rusty tin box, and stood up slowly.
"There's food on the stove. I'll warm it up. You and Mom talk for a bit."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked away gracefully, leaving the space for the reunited mother and son.
In the kitchen, while tending the fire, Xu Wanníng's mind wandered to the plot of the book.
Lin An's return wasn't coincidence.
In the original story, someone had sent him a letter—anonymous—hinting that Xu Wanníng intended to sell her children.
Luckily, the military district wasn't far from Dajiang Village; he could make it back in a day and a night.
But in the novel, Lin An arrived too late.
By the time he got home, the kids were already gone.
When Xu Wanníng had read it, she hadn't thought too much about those details. But now, living inside this body, the more she recalled, the more wrong it all felt.
She already had a pretty good guess about who had sent that anonymous letter.
Inside the house, Mother Lin grabbed her son's rough hands.
"An'er, didn't you say in your last letter you wouldn't be back until near New Year? And about that nonsense of selling the kids—don't listen to the village gossips, they're talking rubbish!"
Lin An pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth but didn't mention the letter.
Through the half-closed door, he saw two small figures lying over a table—his children.
Did I misunderstand the letter?
"I finished a mission for the organization," Lin An finally said. "The leader knew I hadn't been home in a long time, so he gave me a few days off."
Just then, two little bundles of energy came running in, one after the other.
Yaomei dashed straight into his arms, tilting her small head up to look at the father she hadn't seen in months, her big wet eyes full of longing.
Da Chun hesitated a few steps away, watching his sister cuddle their father, envy written all over his face. His tiny lips pressed into a thin line.
Seeing this, Lin An waved him over. When Da Chun approached, he lifted the boy and placed him on his lap.
The child was far too light for his age.
Lin An sighed inwardly, forcing down his irritation toward Xu Wanníng and softening his voice.
"What were you two doing just now?"
"Writing!"
Yaomei answered brightly,
"Mom borrowed textbooks from Grandpa Tian. She teaches us to read and write every day!"
Da Chun nodded seriously beside her.
Something about all this felt off.
Before he could think more, Xu Wanníng came in, holding a chipped bowl.
"I didn't know you'd be back today. This is all we've got—hope you don't mind."
In the dim light, Lin An saw the bowl was full of noodles, topped with two perfectly cooked fried eggs and sprinkled with chopped scallions. The colors alone were enough to make his stomach rumble.
"Thank you."
Polite, distant.
Xu Wanníng didn't seem bothered. She turned to the kids.
"Da Chun, Yaomei—did you finish the homework I gave you?"
"Yes, Mom!"
Yaomei ran off eagerly, returning with two neat little notebooks.
By then, Lin An had already picked up one of the eggs and held it out to her.
"Yaomei, be good. Daddy can't finish all this. Help me eat one, okay?"
Though only four, Yaomei was clever enough to know it was just an excuse.
She took a step back, covering her mouth, her round belly peeking under her little jacket.
"Dad, I can't. Mommy made potato chicken today—I'm still full."
"Dad, Mom cooks eggs for me, Sister, and Grandma every day."
Hearing Da Chun's quiet words, that strange feeling hit Lin An again, stronger this time.
He looked over at Xu Wanníng, but she didn't even glance his way, her focus entirely on the kids' notebooks.
He lowered his head and started eating.
The noodles hadn't clumped together despite sitting for a while; they were springy and perfectly chewy.
At first, he didn't think much of it. But after a few bites, his chopsticks moved faster.
It was just a simple bowl of plain noodles, yet somehow… it was delicious.
By the end, he'd eaten everything—even the broth.
Xu Wanníng looked at the empty bowl and finally understood the kind of appetite a soldier had.
"Should I make another bowl?"
"No need. I'm full."
Mother Lin watched the two of them—polite, distant, like strangers—and sighed.
"It's getting late. An'er's been traveling all day. Let him rest early."
In the bedroom, Lin An sat on the only chair, his sharp eyes fixed on Xu Wanníng, who fidgeted with the hem of her shirt nervously.
Under that gaze, she had no choice but to speak first.
"I can explain."
"Go ahead."
She had already practiced this countless times in her head.
"That day, Li Qianqian tricked me. She said she knew something about the person who once saved my life and asked me to meet her at the back mountain. She even insisted I bring Da Chun and Yaomei with me. I thought she was my best friend, so I didn't suspect anything…"
Xu Wanníng glanced at Lin An carefully. The man's face was hard and expressionless, his features sharp under the moonlight. The long scar beneath his brow looked even more severe in the pale glow.
"Da Chun and Yaomei are my children. I carried them for ten months and nearly bled out when I gave birth to Yaomei. I risked my life for them. How could I ever sell the two lives I almost died to bring into this world?"
By the time she finished, tears streamed down her face. Her eyes glistened as she looked at him, voice trembling but firm.
"I admit I've done things wrong before. But you're my husband, and you're their father. You shouldn't doubt me like this."
Her tone, her tears, the way she looked—anyone watching would think he was the one in the wrong.
That same strange feeling in Lin An's chest grew stronger.
In the past, even when she'd been caught red-handed, Xu Wanníng would only lash out—loud, vicious, and unrepentant. She never backed down like this.
Even if she was pretending…
He had to wonder—what on earth had happened to her while he was away?
Because the woman in front of him didn't seem like the same person at all.