The snow in the courtyard hadn't fully melted.
Under the shade of the trees, patches of gray-white snow lingered, stubborn where the sunlight couldn't reach. On the damp earth, occasional droplets fell from the eaves, lightly tapping the ground and leaving small rings of water. In the corner, wintersweet bloomed quietly, pale yellow petals giving off a subtle fragrance in the cold air. From afar came the occasional hum of passing cars, while sunlight filtered through gaps in the roof, scattering tiny flecks of light across the snow.
Early in the morning, her eldest brother called.
His voice was weary as he spoke slowly about their father's condition: high blood pressure that wouldn't subside, almost constant bed rest since his stroke in winter. After a pause, he added in a low tone, "Dad can't really get out of bed most of the time now."
Li Ming held the phone, her heart heavy. After their mother's death, their father seemed to have aged overnight. The household's responsibilities had fallen entirely on her eldest brother. On the phone, he spoke with a calmness that suggested he had long since grown used to carrying the weight of the family.
After hanging up, she sat in the living room for a long while. Night deepened, and only then did she realize how long it had been since she last returned home.
The next day, she told Dawei that after progressing with her ongoing projects for a while, she planned to go back to Harbin, leaving him to oversee the work.
The morning flight cut through the thin mist as the city still slept. The Potomac River flowed silently like a ribbon. Li Ming leaned against the window, watching the ground slowly recede, a long-dormant feeling rising in her chest.
Time felt blurred during the flight. Half-asleep, half-awake, she saw the cabin lights flicker and the flight attendants push the service cart slowly down the aisle. Memories surfaced: early springs of her childhood, the ice along the Songhua River beginning to loosen, the wind still biting. Her father took them to watch workers hack the ice, her mother's scarf wrapped tightly around her. The images flickered in her mind like an old film, gently shaking.
By the time the plane landed at Harbin Taiping Airport, evening had fallen.
Stepping off the plane, a dry, biting cold struck her face. The airport had grown larger than she remembered—bright, spacious, bustling with travelers wheeling luggage. The city had changed with new generations, yet her mind conjured up the old streets: low buildings, patches of melting snow, water dripping from rooftops, steam rising from boiler rooms.
Her eldest brother came to pick her up.
She recognized him instantly at the exit. Time had left its marks: his hair had turned white, lines etched his face, yet his expression remained steady.
Driving through the old district, the streets narrowed abruptly. The old buildings remained; small shops glowed with yellow lights, doors draped in red plastic curtains. For a moment, she felt transported years back in time.
The car stopped outside the old dormitory. Her brother whispered, "Dad's at home."
The hallway was dim, the concrete steps slightly polished by footsteps. The door opened quietly. Inside, silence reigned except for the low hum of the television.
Her brother spoke softly, "Dad, Li Ming's home."
The elderly man on the bed slowly turned his head. Li Ming approached; her father's face was pale, eyes half-closed, yet when he heard her voice, he opened them, a faint light shining in his gaze.
"Dad…" she whispered, her voice choking.
She took his hand, cold to the touch, pulse weak but stubbornly alive. The room was tidy, his daily items neatly arranged, yet the warmth that once filled it seemed absent.
Memories surged: her childhood with her mother alive, her father silently bearing the weight. After her mother's passing, the responsibility had fallen almost entirely on her eldest brother and father. Following the stroke, her brother had become the family's pillar.
Soft footsteps approached. Her brother came in quietly, nodding in silent acknowledgment that everything was in order. Li Ming gently caressed her father's hand, tears threatening to spill. Her mother's last years, her missing sister, her bullied brother… all the burdens they had silently carried over the years.
"Dad, Li Ming's here with you," her brother whispered.
The old man nodded slowly, lips moving as if trying to say her name. Li Ming responded softly, letting him know she would stay with him for a while. Time in the room seemed to slow. Home was not just a house or its belongings—it was the ties of blood and memory.
Outside, night deepened, a cool breeze seeping through the window. She tucked the blanket around her father, understanding that this return home was as much for his comfort as for her own long-standing yearning.
The next morning, Harbin's air carried the chill of early spring. Mist draped the old streets, streetlights reflecting off the damp pavement in faint glimmers. Li Ming woke early, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and gazed out the window. People moved along the streets, and the occasional e-bike stirred up light dust and wind.
Her eldest brother was busy in the kitchen, the aroma of soy milk and pancakes drifting into the bedroom. Li Ming sat at the table, watching him skillfully handle the spatula.
"Little sister's back. Dad seems more lively," he said softly.
After breakfast, she helped her father onto the balcony to feel the sunlight. His hands trembled slightly, yet when he saw her by his side, recognition flickered in his eyes.
Outside, the wind whispered through the yard, sparrows perching on the remnants of snow-laden branches. Li Ming realized that, although she hadn't returned for years, home had never truly left her memory. Every street, every courtyard, carried the traces of her childhood.
At noon, her brother brought her to his place. Xiaoming was mostly cared for by their brother's wife. He crouched on the floor, playing with a pile of blocks, his eyes full of childlike curiosity. Li Ming bent down, helping him stack the blocks. Gradually, he relaxed, a long-lost smile appearing on his face.
She and her brother sat in the living room, talking about family matters and reminiscing. He spoke of their mother's last years and the changes in the household. Li Ming listened quietly, eyes slightly red.
"You've worked so hard all these years," she whispered.
He shook his head. "It's what had to be done…"
At night, Li Ming sat beside her father as he slept, the cold wind brushing past outside. With her presence, the home seemed to regain a warmth it had lost.
In her heart, she silently resolved: during her stay in Harbin, she would spend as much time as possible with her father and brother, guarding the home alongside them, letting the lost warmth slowly return to life.