Chapter 51:Winter's Quiet Strength
The frost had deepened overnight, leaving the windowpanes laced with delicate white branches. Jia Lan stood by the window, wrapped in a soft wool shawl, watching a pale sun attempt to pierce through the haze. The warmth of the heated brick bed still clung to her feet as she pulled on her thick gloves and coat.
"Xiao Lan," her grandfather's voice came from the hallway. "Come with me this morning. We're paying someone a visit."
She turned quickly. "Yes, Grandfather."
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By the time they stepped out, the air bit sharply against their cheeks. Jia Lan carried a woven basket filled with a red quilt, preserved vegetables, dried buns, and a stack of children's books tied with twine. Her grandfather walked beside her with the dignified calm of a man who had once commanded soldiers.
They passed through older streets—narrow alleys where walls leaned tiredly and stray dogs sniffed at bundles of cabbage left out to dry. Unlike the orderly rows and tiled rooftops of the Jia estate, this district felt timeworn and tender. Here, the warmth came from smoke curling from tiny chimneys, from children chasing each other barefoot, from women hanging laundry with numb fingers.
Jia Lan glanced up at her grandfather. His gaze was firm, forward, yet respectful to those they passed. These were the kinds of places where the roots of the country ran deep.
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Their destination was a two-room dwelling tucked behind a slanted wall. The paint on the door had long since chipped, revealing weathered wood beneath. Her grandfather knocked gently.
A woman opened the door. She was tall and thin, her face drawn yet graceful. Her hair was tied back tightly, her hands red from scrubbing.
"Comrade Jia," she said with genuine surprise. "You came all the way here?"
"This is Zhang Qiumei," her grandfather said, turning to Jia Lan. "Widow of Zhang Ronghui, my battalion medic."
"Please, come in," Qiumei urged, stepping aside quickly.
Inside, the home was simple but spotless. A small clay stove simmered with a thin cabbage stew. A cracked tea set sat on the low table. The air was thick with warmth despite the poor insulation.
Three children peeked out from behind a hanging curtain.
"Come out and greet them," Qiumei said gently.
The eldest boy stepped forward first. He was small for his age but stood straight. His eyes were serious.
"I'm Zhang Ning," he said. "This is my brother Zhang Bao, and sister Zhang Mei."
Jia Lan crouched and smiled. "I brought some books for you. I hope you like stories."
Zhang Ning took them with both hands. "Thank you. I'll read them after chores."
Her grandfather sat down and spoke with Qiumei about her late husband. He asked if the school had kept the children on the rolls and if anyone helped them regularly. She answered honestly.
"Some of the neighbors bring a bowl of rice now and then," she said. "But mostly, I sew. And sell scraps. It's enough to keep the stove going."
Her tone was not bitter—only matter-of-fact.
Jia Lan helped Zhang Bao with his mittens, noting they were too small. "We'll bring better ones next time," she said.
Zhang Mei toddled over and clung to her mother's skirt. Her cheeks were round and chapped, and she stared wide-eyed at Jia Lan. When Jia Lan made a silly face, the child laughed—a high, surprised sound.
That sound lingered with Jia Lan all morning.
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They left the Zhang home quietly, the sky grayer than before. As they walked, her grandfather remained silent.
"That little boy," Jia Lan said softly, "Zhang Ning. He's already like a grown-up."
"Too many children have to grow up early," her grandfather said.
Jia Lan tightened her grip on the empty basket.
"I want to help more, Grandfather," she said.
He looked at her sideways, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Then start small. Start by remembering what you saw."
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Back at home, the warmth embraced her again. The sharp contrast of her morning clung to her as she poured tea for her grandmother and sat by the kang.
Her mother entered a few minutes later with a steaming cup of jujube tea. "You've been out in the cold. Drink this."
"Thank you, Mama."
Jia Lan sipped the tea slowly, the warmth spreading through her like a blanket. She glanced at the corner of her desk where her textbooks were stacked. Slowly, she rose and picked up her history volume.
More than half of her high school books were done. Literature, geography, math—her handwriting covered every margin like vines.
She turned a page and smiled.
"I'm going to finish them all by spring," she whispered to herself.
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That evening, as she brushed her hair beside the heated brick bed, the system chimed softly in her mind.
> [Daily Sign-In Complete. Reward: Wool-lined gloves and Candied Chestnuts.]
She laughed quietly.
"Comfort food, huh? You're spoiling me," she murmured. "Don't think I'll forgive you if tomorrow's reward is something like soap."
She slipped the candied chestnuts into a jar by the kitchen and made sure to label them for Xu Li to enjoy during her pregnancy.
As she nestled into bed, curled like a cat beneath the quilt, she thought of Zhang Qiumei and the children.
"I'll do more," she promised herself silently. "One day, I'll make sure children like Zhang Ning never have to look that serious again."
The wind howled gently beyond the windows, but inside, Jia Lan felt nothing but warmth and resolve.
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