Chapter 23: Installing a Phone, He Hasn’t Done Enough

Chapter 23 He Hasn’t Done Enough (Installing a Phone)

"Dad?" Eldest Brother Qin frowned. "Dad never mentioned it."

"If not for Dad, how could the Song family return to the city at this time?" Sister-in-law Qin refused to believe that Qin’s father hadn’t helped the Song family. He must’ve helped them behind the scenes. "Everyone’s eyes are on our family. If Dad did this..."

"It might not be Dad," Eldest Brother Qin said. "For something this big, Dad wouldn’t have acted without discussing it with me. He’s been keeping his head down for years."

Eldest Brother Qin knew very well that his parents had avoided much contact with Song Fenglan, fearing she might bring trouble to their family.

"There’s gotta be a link," Sister-in-law Qin insisted.

At this time, Qin Yizhou’s uncle, Doctor Lin, went to the Song family. Doctor Lin had studied both traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine. He hadn’t been sent down, and his family was well-off. Occasionally, he traveled to other places. The farm the Songs were sent to wasn’t too far from the capital—just a few hours by train.

Before Qin Yizhou and Song Fenglan were married, when he learned that her parents had been sent down, he got his uncle to look in on them. His uncle had medicine on hand and could bring some to them, as well as send supplies occasionally. Qin Yizhou was always off on army duty or handling other important matters, so he didn’t always have time to do these things himself.

After Qin Yizhou and Song Fenglan married, Doctor Lin made special trips to the farm two or three times a year to examine Song Fenglan’s parents and bring them medicine. Some of the medicine was for strengthening their health. Since her parents weren’t used to heavy labor, the farm work had been especially hard on them.

Now that they had returned, Doctor Lin no longer needed to visit the farm, so he brought some gifts instead.

When Song Fenglan’s mother saw Doctor Lin, she quickly invited him inside.

"Doctor Lin, please sit down," she said, pouring him tea.

Her eldest son and daughter-in-law’s child had been seriously ill, and they had no choice but to call Doctor Lin for help. He’d bent over backwards to assist them, and Song Fenglan’s mother was deeply grateful. She knew that without Qin Yizhou’s connection, Doctor Lin wouldn’t have helped their family so much.

"We still haven’t paid you for the medical fees, and now you’re bringing us gifts. This is too much," she said apologetically.

"We’re kin—no need for formalities," Doctor Lin said with a smile. "You don’t have to pay me. If you feel uneasy, you can donate the money to an orphanage. Those kids have it rough too."

"Alright, we’ll do as you say," Song Fenglan’s mother replied. "We’re just glad to be back..."

"You have an outstanding daughter," Doctor Lin said. "And your brother—he was remarkable."

"Death snuffs out everything. What’s the use in talking?" she sighed. Better to go along quietly than fight a losing battle.

"Yi Zhou called me, and that’s how I learned you’d been rehabilitated and returned. This is wonderful news," Doctor Lin said. "He asked me to tell you not to visit the Qin family. As the bride’s parents, it’s their duty to visit you first. He’s always off on army duty and hasn’t been able to take good care of Feng Lan or you."

"He’s done his part," Song Fenglan’s mother said. At the very least, Qin Yizhou had been willing to marry her daughter. Song Fenglan had told her how they had ended up together by chance after she was set up. She knew that a man in Qin Yizhou’s position could have found many ways to avoid marrying her if he had wanted to—especially since his family had been against the marriage.

"Enough? He hasn’t done nearly enough," Doctor Lin said. "Always away, never able to properly care for his wife and child. They’ve had to live with her relatives."

Doctor Lin had once suggested that Song Fenglan stay with the Lin family, but Qin Yizhou refused. Doctor Lin was Qin Yizhou’s uncle, but he was also Eldest Brother Qin’s uncle. If Song Fenglan lived there, Eldest Brother Qin and others would visit, and she’d just end up worse off.

Qin Yizhou couldn’t just leave the military either. If he resigned to stay by Song Fenglan’s side, she might face even deeper trouble.

There were two reasons Qin Yizhou considered divorcing Song Fenglan: first, because she didn’t love him and he refused to chain her to a marriage without love, and second, because he couldn’t even protect the woman he loved.

He’d at least talked them into letting Song Fenglan stay with her aunt, and he had protested when they initially opposed the marriage. But in daily life, all he could do was send cash and coupons.

"Let me take your pulse while I’m at it," Doctor Lin said. "Afterward, I can report back to Yi Zhou."

"Thank you," Song Fenglan’s mother said gratefully. The Qins might’ve given them the cold shoulder, but Qin Yizhou’s uncle had been kind.

Without Qin Yizhou, her husband and she would have suffered much more on the farm. After he married Song Fenglan, their lives had improved.

Qin Yizhou never made a fuss over these small favors to Song Fenglan—they weren’t worth bringing up.

Just then, Qin Yizhou was called in to see Political Commissar Zhao in the military unit. Political Commissar Zhao was already aware of Song Fenglan's amazing talents. There were orders from above instructing them to keep her safe no matter what. The proximity of their military unit to the research institute was precisely for safeguarding those scientists.

"From now on, return home earlier," Political Commissar Zhao said. "This time, you won’t be assigned to the mission."

"What mission?" Qin Yizhou asked.

"It doesn’t concern you," Political Commissar Zhao replied. "Right now, your most important task is to protect your wife. This is a unanimously approved order. As Song Fenglan’s husband, your presence by her side won’t raise suspicions. Your wife’s uncle was assassinated abroad—those people never expected her to be so outstanding."

Political Commissar Zhao sighed. None of them had realized just how exceptional the Song family was. Song Fenglan had emerged seemingly out of nowhere, coming up with such incredible breakthroughs. The brass were kicking themselves for not having her involved in research earlier, wondering if even more significant breakthroughs could have been made.

Genius still required hands-on experience and research materials. If not for Song Fenglan’s role as a middle school teacher, which allowed her access to certain resources, she might not have reached her current level of success.

Having achieved real accomplishments, Song Fenglan didn’t conceal them or harbor resentment toward the nation. Instead, she openly contributed her work. This demonstrated the Song family’s truly devoted patriotism—they were without ulterior motives.

"Haven’t you been striving all these years, racking up medals, just so your in-laws could be cleared of charges faster?" Political Commissar Zhao remarked.

Qin Yizhou had taken on extra missions and racked up medals, hoping to support his in-laws. With the recent political turbulence, he could almost taste his chance. Though he had previously urged better treatment for Song Fenglan’s parents at the farm to prevent further deterioration of their health, securing their full return remained a long shot.

He was an ordinary man, relying on his own hands and military equipment to carry out tasks. If he didn’t do them, others would. Nothing he accomplished was uniquely irreplaceable.

Qin Yizhou understood this clearly. Once, during a suicide mission, he even wrote a will. Fearing unfair treatment for his wife and child if he perished, he stipulated that all compensation should go to them. If something happened to their boy, the benefits would still belong to his wife. He also wrote that, in the event of his death, his wife could remarry and take their child with her—she wasn’t obligated to send the child to the Qin family, though she could if she wished.

He never mentioned these thoughts to Song Fenglan, considering them part of the past. He had chosen those missions himself; his wife hadn’t forced him. Completing them had also advanced his career, so he couldn’t claim it was solely for his in-laws.

"My efforts pale in comparison to my wife’s," Qin Yizhou said. "She has made the greatest contribution."

"She's every bit as good as any man," Political Commissar Zhao remarked. "When we first learned of it, we were utterly astonished."

Previously, Political Commissar Zhao had only heard trivial domestic matters from his wife and assumed Song Fenglan was just another army wife dealing with household stuff. Little did he know she was this much of a genius. No wonder Song Fenglan avoided Shi Guilan’s company.

Indeed, someone so brilliant shouldn’t be weighed down by petty nonsense.

Political Commissar Zhao also felt his wife hadn’t handled things well, playing favorites with Shi Guilan. As the wife of Staff Officer Xu, Shi Guilan had been around for years, leading many to instinctively side with her as the "old-timer."

This was wrong!

Such outdated notions were harmful!

"It’s not that we’re excluding you from missions. Protecting your wife and the research institute is now your number one job," Political Commissar Zhao emphasized. "Never forget the real purpose of our unit. We’re the army, not the air force, but this is our most critical task."

The air force had personnel stationed there too, primarily for test flights—pilots were also national treasures.

"Understood," Qin Yizhou acknowledged.

"Spend more time with your wife and work on your marriage," Political Commissar Zhao advised. "You had no idea she was this remarkable before, did you?"

"No," Qin Yizhou shook his head. He had only known her as an ordinary middle school teacher. Had he realized her capabilities earlier, he would've pushed her to join the research institute sooner.

"A marriage takes two people really knowing each other. You can’t just each do your own thing. Don’t blame your wife for not telling you earlier—before concrete results, would you have believed a middle school teacher with only a high school diploma could achieve this?" Political Commissar Zhao said bluntly. "Frankly, none of us would’ve thought Song Fenglan was full of it."

They would have dismissed her claims as exaggeration, unable to fathom her true prowess.

"We’re not researchers—how could we comprehend such things? Even if your wife laid out the data before us, we wouldn’t understand it," Political Commissar Zhao said, hoping Qin Yizhou and Song Fenglan could get closer. A marriage thrived on shared understanding.

People criticized Song Fenglan for not following the military camp, yet no one questioned why Qin Yizhou wasn’t by her side.

After hearing the higher-ups’ remarks, Political Commissar Zhao realized how miraculous it was that Song Fenglan was still alive. Had foreign adversaries discovered her existence earlier, she might have shared her uncle’s tragic fate.

Just thinking about it gave him chills—a sobering reminder of what could have been.

Many scientists within the country have been assassinated, and those attempting to return home were also targeted. Foreign reactionary forces don’t want our country to grow powerful.

"You should strive to be a good husband and father," Political Commissar Zhao said. "It's often said that loyalty and filial piety are hard to balance, and the same goes for marriage and devotion. When you have the chance, you must seize it. People like us always end up neglecting our families, making them shoulder more than they should."

Political Commissar Zhao had been young once and understood the difficulties. His wife had quarreled with him before—he was too busy with his own affairs to pay attention to household matters. She asked when he would finally look after the family, when he would understand their struggles. She was human too—she needed care.

Mrs. Zhao had argued with Political Commissar Zhao before, and he knew many military wives faced similar situations. While they had never failed their country, they had often failed their own families, leaving all domestic responsibilities to their wives without contributing enough themselves.

"Understood," Qin Yizhou nodded.

After the Song family’s name was cleared, Mrs. Zhao directly informed some people in the housing complex. Certain things needed to be said to prevent others from acting with prejudice and bullying. Song Fenglan had already started working at the research institute and wasn’t out to compete.

Song Fenglan didn’t live in the rundown apartment buildings, nor did she take anyone’s job. She owed them nothing.

"What?" Shi Guilan, standing under a large tree, was floored upon hearing Mrs. Zhao’s words. "How is that possible?"

"It's true," Mrs. Zhao said. "Qin Yizhou’s uncle was assassinated for trying to return and serve the country. The Song family should never have suffered like this."

The relevant authorities instructed everyone to stick to the same story—the Song family’s name was cleared because of the late Song Xingyun. He had been an exceptionally talented scientist. If he’d lived, he could’ve done so much more. If he hadn’t sought to return to China, he wouldn’t have been assassinated.

"Do you think Song Fenglan became Professor Su’s adopted niece by chance?" Mrs. Zhao continued. "Professor Su knew her uncle—they were thick as thieves. Fenglan is intelligent, carrying her uncle’s brilliance. When Professor Su and others learned of the Song family’s plight, they were shocked and deeply grieved."

"..." Shi Guilan didn’t get it—why help only now?

"Shi Guilan, you too—from now on, stop picking fights with others," Mrs. Zhao said sternly. "Qin Yizhou’s wife has been here for so long—how many times has she come to you? You’re always the one starting things!"

"I—"

"Have you understood?" Mrs. Zhao’s expression turned cold. She clearly had no interest in hearing Shi Guilan’s excuses—there was nothing to explain.

"Whether she remembers or not, she must," Granny Cao interjected, approaching. "Shi Guilan, remember this, understand? You married into my son-in-law’s family—you should behave obediently and sensibly, not shamelessly as before."

Shi Guilan nodded, but Granny Cao pressed further. "Cat got your tongue? Can’t you speak?"

"I’ll remember!" Shi Guilan said.

"By the way, isn’t your cousin getting married soon?" Granny Cao added. "Go buy some wedding-red fabric to send her as a gift, so no one can say our family lacks manners."

"She’s getting married?" Mrs. Zhao asked.

"Yes," Shi Guilan confirmed.

"To whom?" Mrs. Zhao hadn’t heard anything about it.

"To—"

"Who it is doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s of age and should marry soon," Granny Cao cut in. "Instead of obsessing over other women’s husbands all day—right?"

Granny Cao already knew about Shi Guilan and her cousin’s behavior. The old woman found it downright shameful. There were plenty of men in the world—why did these two sisters fixate on Qin Yizhou alone? No wonder folks thought they were nuts.

The housing complex was small, and with limited entertainment options, word got around fast. Soon, everyone knew the Song family’s name was cleared—Song Fenglan’s record was above reproach.

People were impressed she’d managed it so quietly, showing what she’s made of. Such a person was truly steady and low-key, unlike Shi Guilan, who acted like Shi Guilan did.

"The gap between the capable and the clueless is huge."

"I used to think Qin Yizhou’s wife was just a scaredy-cat, afraid to unsheathe her claws."

"She knows what’s important and respects us military wives. She never escalated things further, out of respect for us."

"The kind-hearted are often bullied. Qin Tuan's family is just too kind, enduring mistreatment for so long."

"To think Qin Tuan's uncle was so remarkable, killed just like that for the country..."

...

These people naturally revered those who sacrificed for the nation. Without their predecessors’ dedication, there would be no country as it is today, nor could they live such peaceful lives.

Song Xingyun’s deeds spread like wildfire, leaving many sighing in sympathy.

Those who once doubted Song Fenglan now felt ashamed. The Song family was a family of martyrs—whether the Songs had relatives abroad didn’t matter. Perhaps those relatives also wished to return but couldn’t, fearing the same fate of assassination.

Who’s to say Xingyun didn’t leave something in their hands? If they dared act, their lives would be forfeit.

The government hadn’t known earlier. The Song family didn’t want to profit from the dead, so they remained silent. Their silence was also self-protection—without Song Xingyun, how much shelter could they truly rely on?

Mrs. Su played with Qin Zihang in the Qin family’s yard when Auntie Fatty came over with Xiaohu.

Auntie Fatty couldn’t help sighing, ashamed of her early misjudgment of Song Fenglan. Even though she quickly corrected her view, she still recalled how lonely Fenglan looked when she first came to the compound.

"Fenglan never told me any of this. She kept it all to herself," Auntie Fatty said.

"She probably feared disbelief, only adding unnecessary trouble," Mrs. Su replied.

"That’s true," Auntie Fatty agreed. "Everyone assumed her background was problematic, steering clear of her."

"But you didn’t." Mrs. Su’s gaze followed Qin Zihang and Zhang Xiaohu spinning round and round, giggling like it was the best thing ever.

Children loved such games, though grown-ups couldn’t see the fun in it.

"I had my misconceptions at first too," Auntie Fatty admitted. "When my husband came back from dinner saying Fenglan couldn’t cook, I figured she was a spoiled rich girl. Later, I learned her baking was amazing—far from lacking skill!"

She owned up to her mistake—it was her own prejudice, not Fenglan’s fault.

"Now that the Songs are cleared, I bet many kids will want to play with Zihang now," Auntie Fatty mused.

Before, some folks told their kids not to go near him. Auntie Fatty never enforced that, despite others advising her to keep Zhang Xiaohu distant. To her, Zihang was a dear, and Fenglan had been nothing but kind—even teaching her how to bake.

"Zi Hang! Don’t ditch me!"

"Don’t play with others—play with me! We’re buddies!"

...

Zhang Xiaohu, hearing his mother’s words, eagerly pleaded with Qin Zihang, afraid he’d be left out.

"I’ll do writing practice with you! Don’t leave me behind!"

"Your call," Zihang said. "We’ll write, do math, and be good little boys."

"I can do it!" Zhang Xiaohu insisted. "I’m Zhang Xiaohu, but I’m not wild—I can be good as a kitten, better behaved than Wangwang!"

He adored playing with Zihang, even though the boy was two years younger. Zihang was fun, plus there’s the dog!

"Alright, be good," Zi Hang said. "I'm Mommy's good boy, and you're your mom's good boy too."

"Mhm." Zhang Xiaohu nodded vigorously.

"Come on, let's dig and plant flowers." Zi Hang picked up a small shovel.

Zhang Xiaohu also grabbed a small shovel and crouched beside Zi Hang as they dug together.

"You have to do it like this," Zi Hang instructed. "Make a little hole, not too deep. If it's too big, you might fall in, and the flower won't grow."

"Dig!" Zhang Xiaohu said.

Auntie Fatty watched her youngest being so obedient and didn’t see any issue with him listening to a child younger than him. She thought Zi Hang was very smart—he knew how to write and do math. If only her own son could be half as clever as Zi Hang.

Zi Hang’s father was a regiment commander, his mother worked at a research institute, and his maternal grandfather’s family had been rehabilitated.

This meant Zi Hang had a bright future ahead. Of course, her own child should play with Zi Hang as much as possible. Growing up together would make them close.

"Feng Lan’s had it hard—working and raising a child," Auntie Fatty said. "Good thing you’re here."

"Oh, I only help out a bit," Mrs. Su waved her hand dismissively. "I’m usually home alone, and it’s lonely. It’s nice to help look after the child."

Mrs. Su had heard from her husband about Song Xingyun’s story and how Feng Lan had managed to achieve something in the middle school’s laboratory. She was deeply moved. Feng Lan was so hardworking, resilient, and unyielding—Mrs. Su sympathized with her and admired her greatly.

"Feng Lan is wonderful," Mrs. Su said with a smile. "My husband often praises her, saying she takes after her uncle. He wonders why she only sought out her uncle now—she’d have had it easier if she’d come earlier. But back then, we were all too busy and didn’t know much about her family’s situation. It wasn’t just my husband—Professor Cai and the others, who were very close to Feng Lan’s uncle, were also heartbroken when they learned about her family. If not for her uncle’s protection back then, they might have been in trouble too."

Back in the day, Professor Su, Professor Cai, and others had wanted to protect Song Xingyun, believing he was exceptional. But in the face of life and death, Song Xingyun didn’t think he alone was more valuable than so many others. He knew he likely wouldn’t return—those people would be watching him closely. He hoped that even if he couldn’t come back, others could still return safely.

"Some things… well, even if they speak up themselves, others might not believe them. It has to come from someone else’s mouth for people to accept it," Mrs. Su said. "My husband has said many times how pitiful Feng Lan is, how much she’s suffered."

Mrs. Su had often felt like storming into Shi Guilan’s house—Shi Guilan had gone too far. But she thought storming in would’ve been too easy for her. A moment of satisfaction would only make others think they were being too harsh. Instead, they let the rumors needled Shi Guilan.

Shi Guilan had spread vicious gossip about Feng Lan—saying she must be unattractive, that she was a rich girl who couldn’t endure hardship…

Now, Shi Guilan should see how it feels.

"Feng Lan doesn’t like to talk about it," Auntie Fatty said. "It’s because she’s had to endure so much in the past. She got used to holding it in. And now, married to Staff Officer Xu, Feng Lan didn’t want to cause trouble for her husband, so she endured again. In the end, she’s suffered too much. Not like me—I don’t have to put up with so much."

Auntie Fatty was originally from the countryside, her family background was clean. If anyone talked trash, she talked back. Even if she had to endure sometimes, it was never for long.

"True," Mrs. Su nodded.

That evening, Mrs. Su prepared to take Zi Hang back home. She needed to cook dinner and give him a bath afterward.

Just then, Qin Yizhou returned.

"So early today?" Mrs. Su asked in surprise.

"No overtime. Came back early," Qin Yizhou said. "Aunt, I’ll take Zi Hang. Why don’t you stay for dinner?"

"Alright. Your uncle will probably be working late at the institute again—might not come home," Mrs. Su said. "I’ll take you up on that."

Mrs. Su watched as Qin Yizhou put on an apron and headed to the kitchen, then turned her gaze to Zi Hang. She thought about how Qin Yizhou, as a soldier, was bound to neglect his family. But for Feng Lan, marrying him had been the best choice. In those turbulent years, being Qin Yizhou’s wife had made life a bit easier.

It wasn’t as if Mrs. Su didn’t know how those who were persecuted had suffered—some died on the farms, others were driven to madness.

Dark. Unbearably dark. It wasn’t just bad—it was utterly terrifying.

Those who hadn’t lived through it could never really understand how dark and horrifying it had been.

"I'll wash the vegetables," said Mrs. Su.

"No need—just keep an eye on Zi Hang for me," Qin Yizhou replied, not letting Mrs. Su do those tasks—he could handle them himself.

After speaking with Political Commissar Zhao, Qin Yizhou wanted to spend more time at home. He knew his wife’s capabilities and felt increasingly that he hadn’t done enough—he hadn’t supported her properly or done better. A man like him was good for nothing, no wonder Song Fenglan hadn’t sought him out before. She had relied on herself, not him.

What good was a man who couldn’t even protect or support his wife?

His wife had a son and talent—why would she even need him around?

Qin Yizhou’s chest tightened with worry, fearing his wife might one day ask for a divorce. He didn’t want that, not at all. Before, he had considered divorce to give her a better future, but after meeting her again, he couldn’t let go.

Mrs. Su watched Qin Yizhou skillfully washing vegetables and joked, "Were you in the mess hall back in the day?"

"No," Qin Yizhou replied. "Just learned a bit. On ops, you pick things up—can’t always depend on others."

"It’s good to learn more," Mrs. Su said.

"Yeah," Qin Yizhou agreed.

Mrs. Su stopped watching him and turned to Qin Zihang instead.

Qin Zihang sat quietly practicing his writing. He wanted to write more so that when his mother returned, he could show her how well he had studied. He wanted to grow up to be somebody, not just a child who only knew how to play.

"Good job," Mrs. Su praised.

"Mom taught me," Qin Zihang said proudly, lifting his head. "Mom knows everything. She says if I study hard, I’ll be great one day."

"You can never learn too much," Mrs. Su said.

"I wanna be the smartest in class," Qin Zihang declared.

"You will," Mrs. Su nodded. "With a mom like yours, of course you’ll go far."

"I’m just like my mom," Qin Zihang said happily.

"Yes, just like your mom," Mrs. Su echoed.

At the research institute, Song Fenglan wouldn’t be back so soon. The higher-ups were putting together a team for her, letting her lead the development of a new fighter jet.

Song Fenglan knew a great deal, and many professors and researchers had already recognized her abilities. She broke down retrofit plans like it was nothing, pinpointed issues, and had many ideas for the new fighter. If it worked in theory, they had to test it in practice.

No progress without tearing down the old. The institute couldn’t hold back fresh talent—they had to give them opportunities to shine.

Though Song Fenglan hadn’t been at the institute long, her chops spoke for themselves. Everyone needed to trust her more. Even if they failed at first, you gotta fail to succeed—they would get there eventually. Others had failed countless times before succeeding.

"This is your shot to show what you’re made of," Professor Su said, patting Song Fenglan’s shoulder.

Song Fenglan didn’t feel embarrassed. With her expertise, a team under her, and the reins in her hands, she could achieve results faster. If every step required endless approvals and got stuck at any level, everything would grind to a halt.

The institute cut her loose, allowing her to make more decisions, and they fully supported her. Nobody bought that she was some foreign plant—come on, this was next-gen fighter tech.

"Thank you," Song Fenglan knew Professor Su had played a role in this.

"You deserve it," Professor Su looked at her and, for a moment, saw Song Xingyun. But then it was Song Fenglan’s face again. "You’ve got your uncle’s spark, but you’re nobody’s shadow."

"Huh?" Song Fenglan blinked—why was Professor Su suddenly saying this?

"Forget I said anything," Professor Su said. "Don’t you need to prep your team briefing? Let’s chow first, shop talk after. You missing your boy?"

"A little bit," Song Fenglan nodded. How could a mother not miss her own child?

"Don't worry, your aunt's got you," Professor Su said.

When Professor Su brought up the idea of being a stand-in, he wasn’t trying to pressure Song Fenglan. He was simply telling himself that they shouldn’t treat Song Fenglan as Song Xingyun. Song Fenglan and Song Xingyun were two completely different people. Even though they were family, they were still different.

They shouldn’t keep bringing up Song Xingyun or let Song Fenglan live in his shadow. Song Fenglan didn’t need to live in anyone’s shadow.

If anything, it was them who lived in Song Xingyun’s shadow. Now, with Song Fenglan here, many would soon live in hers. No matter how hard they tried, surpassing Song Xingyun and Song Fenglan would be difficult. The Song family was exceptionally talented in this field.

"With Auntie there, I feel better," Song Fenglan said. "If something really happened, it wouldn’t be this quiet. I’m not worried."

"It’s normal to worry. Mothers tend to fret over these things more than fathers," Professor Su said. "You’re carrying a heavy load yourself."

"In the future, when Zi Hang grows up, he can say his mother is a scientist, not just some middle school teacher," Song Fenglan said. "A scientist seems way cooler—that’s what most kids think."

"Others hope their children will achieve greatness, but you? You want to be the impressive one," Professor Su chuckled.

"I have to lead by example for my child," Song Fenglan said. "If I don’t, how can I expect him to push ahead?"

Better to drive yourself than hound your kid. As an adult, she had better self-control and could accomplish more. She could still work hard. It wasn’t as if adulthood meant her future was set in stone—that no matter how hard she tried, nothing would change.

No, she had to keep striving. Only then could her child excel and walk with pride.

By past seven in the evening, Mrs. Su had finished dinner and left. Qin Yizhou helped Qin Zihang bathe and change clothes, then went to do the laundry.

"Mom’s still not back," Qin Zihang muttered. "I can already see the little stars in the sky."

Qin Yizhou was washing clothes in the yard while Qin Zihang sat on a small stool beside him, missing his mother.

"Mom’s busy," Qin Yizhou said. "You’ve got Dad here with you."

"I miss Mom," Qin Zihang said. "She used to come back early to be with me. Did something happen to her?"

"No," Qin Yizhou replied. "She’s putting in extra hours. She has things to do and will be back later."

"What things?" Qin Zihang tilted his head. "What’s more important than Hangbao?"

"..." Qin Yizhou hadn’t expected Qin Zihang to say that.

"Mom said Hangbao is the most important," Qin Zihang insisted.

"What Mom is doing is also to protect our Hangbao. Of course, Hangbao is the most important," Qin Yizhou said. "Before, it was always Mom taking care of you. Now, give Dad a chance to take care of you too. We can’t keep running your mom ragged—she works very hard."

"Yeah, okay," Qin Zihang nodded.

Just then, there was a sound at the door. Qin Zihang thought it was his mother returning and ran over, only to find strangers.

"Who are you looking for?" Qin Zihang asked.

"We’re here to install a telephone," the visitor replied.

Qin Yizhou and his wife didn’t have a telephone at home. If they needed to make a call, they had to go to a public phone booth. During the day, it was manageable, but going out at night was a hassle. Having a telephone at home would be much more convenient. The higher-ups sent someone to install it. Originally, they planned to come during the day, but considering the family might not be home, they decided to come this late instead.

"Install a telephone?" Qin Zihang didn’t quite understand. He turned and called out loudly to his father, "Dad, they’re here to install a telephone!"

Pitter-patter—Qin Zihang ran back to Qin Yizhou’s side.

Coincidentally, Auntie Fatty was in her yard hanging freshly washed clothes. Hearing Qin Zihang’s words, she craned her neck over the fence, all ears.

"Is this Comrade Song Fenglan’s home? We were told to install a telephone for Comrade Song Fenglan’s home," the telephone installer said. When he saw Qin Yizhou, he added, "You must be with Comrade Song Fenglan’s family. We’ll install it now, and it’ll be working in no time."