Chapter 43: An Unexpected Guest and Afternoon Light

The sunlight filtered through bare branches, golden and pale, catching the frost that clung to the iron fence of the Jia courtyard. Winter had not yet fully settled in, but its voice was carried on the breeze.

After finishing her morning work at the Youth Arts Bureau, Jia Lan returned home just as the lunch dishes were being cleared. The fragrance of pickled vegetables and stir-fried beans still hung in the air.

"You're back early today," Mother Lin said with a warm glance, folding a napkin neatly.

"I finished my sketches early, and the director looked sleepy enough to approve anything," Jia Lan said with a wink.

Xu Li, wrapped in a cozy knitted shawl, let out a small laugh. "I wish I had a job like yours. But then again, I get foot rubs."

"That's only because your baby is our national treasure," Jia Wei said, coming in with a jug of hot water. He was carrying it with both hands like it was gold.

Jia Zhe snorted from across the room. "I better start pretending I'm pregnant too. Maybe I'll get soup and foot rubs."

Jia Lan waved her hand. "Too late. Your attitude disqualifies you."

As the family's laughter echoed lightly through the halls, Jia Lan slipped away to the side courtyard. The stone bench there had warmed just enough under the sun. She pulled her coat tighter and reclined slightly, resting her head against the wooden frame. Her eyes fluttered shut.

For a moment, the world was silent.

She thought of her past life: the constant noise of the city, the stress, the dreams of stability that always seemed just out of reach. And now, surrounded by love, comfort, and the privilege of this elite household, she felt that hard edges of her soul softening.

But peace, as always, never lasted too long.

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🧥 A Visitor from the Past

Footsteps approached.

Not family.

Jia Lan's eyes opened slowly to see Old Aunt Chen, the housekeeper, hurrying toward her.

"Miss Jia Lan," she whispered. "There's a young man at the front gate. Said he was sent by Elder Jia. He's… tall. Quiet. From the military."

Jia Lan blinked away sleep and stood, brushing off her coat. "Grandfather's guest?" Her tone became composed. "Let me see."

She reached the main courtyard just as her grandfather stepped out to greet the visitor.

The young man straightened and gave a neat salute.

"Zhao Cheng reporting."

He was in civilian clothes now, but the military bearing remained. Broad-shouldered, clean-shaven, with clear eyes the color of cold tea. His manner was quiet, his stance straight.

"You've grown," Grandfather Jia said, his stern face softening. "Last time I saw you, you were barely up to my elbow."

"Yes, sir. I've returned home for good."

They sat inside with hot tea. Jia Lan remained, politely in the corner.

"My father…" Zhao Cheng began. "He's not well. He lost his vision last spring. My mother works odd jobs to cover medicine. I requested demobilization to take care of them."

Grandfather nodded, sighing. "Old Zhao was my field medic. Stitched up men under falling shells. And now the Party drags its feet with his papers."

Zhao Cheng didn't complain. His hands were folded neatly. "I'm looking for civil work. I can do logistics. Guard duty. Anything."

Jia Lan studied him quietly. His nails were clean, his shoes worn but polished. There was discipline in his presence, but no arrogance. She noted the faint calluses at his knuckles and the slight wear on the elbows of his coat—evidence of hard work, not vanity.

"You know carpentry?" Grandfather asked.

Zhao Cheng nodded. "Learned in the service. Woodwork, repairs, simple drafting. Built shelters after the flood in '73."

"Good. I'll write a letter. There's a supply warehouse in the west district. Their director is a cousin of mine."

Zhao Cheng bowed. "I am grateful. Truly."

"Don't be," Grandfather said, his voice gruff. "Your father would have done the same for me."

Jia Lan set down a small plate of sweet pastries and poured the tea with practiced elegance.

"You should eat," she said, smiling. "Soldiers shouldn't starve after serving their country."

Zhao Cheng gave her a respectful nod. "Miss Jia. Thank you. It's been some time since I sat down like this."

"That's a shame," Jia Lan replied lightly. "In this house, you'll be stuffed full by dusk if you don't escape fast enough."

He chuckled softly, a rare ease touching his expression. "Then I better go before I'm too spoiled to be useful."

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🫖 Afternoon Ripples

Later, as Zhao Cheng took his leave, Grandfather Jia and Jia Lan watched from the veranda.

"He's a good one," Grandfather said. "The kind who won't ask but will give his all."

"Do you think he'll manage well back in city life?" Jia Lan asked, sipping the warm tea.

"He's the kind who adjusts," Grandfather said, looking into the distance. "Some of us carry war in our bones. Others carry it like a lesson. Zhao Cheng… he carries it like a duty."

Jia Lan nodded.

"It must be difficult," she murmured. "To go from orders and unity to noise, errands, and uncertain futures."

"Yes," Grandfather agreed. "That's why those like him need a strong start. A door opened at the right moment."

She thought of her own second chance. The world is shifting, she thought. And people like him deserve to rise with it.

Back in her room, Jia Lan opened her notebook and added Zhao Cheng's name. Not because she was suspicious, but because she wanted to remember the ones worth watching—not for danger, but for hope.

The afternoon sun began to dip behind the tall wall, shadows lengthening, the air cooling. Somewhere in the house, the sound of a kettle boiling and faint laughter reached her ears.

Peace settled again—but this time, she welcomed it like an old friend rather than a fleeting guest.

🍲 Evening Reflections

At dinner, the family gathered with the usual cheer. The table was loaded with tender braised eggplant, steamed pork buns, and a surprisingly spicy radish salad.

"That young man, Zhao Cheng," Grandfather mentioned, lifting his tea cup, "he's Old Zhao's son. Returned to care for his parents. Loyal. Quiet. Reminds me of the old days."

Mother Lin nodded with a soft smile. "The kind of boy every family hopes for. Polite too."

Jia Wei poked at his rice. "He looked serious. Too serious. Like he's planning a revolution."

"That's what discipline looks like," Jia Zhe said with a grin. "Something you wouldn't recognize."

Xu Li chuckled, her hand resting on her round belly. "I think he seemed gentle. And hungry."

"I sent him off with sweets," Jia Lan said lightly, sipping her soup. "He seemed surprised by hospitality."

"It's not surprising," Grandfather murmured. "The world is hard, and not many open their doors easily. We can afford to help. And we should."

Jia Lan looked at her family, a warm tide rising in her chest.

Yes, she thought, this is the kind of home people remember even years later.

As the wind howled gently beyond the frosted windows, the family ate together in laughter and ease, while the shadows of tomorrow waited silently outside.