Chapter 156: How Old Is Your Daughter?
Chapter 156: How Old Is Your Daughter?
"All my bonuses from my lifetime of military service go into this."
Zhan Lian takes off his shoes and enters the room. He walks over to the sofa, turns around, and pats the back of it as he shows it off to Lao Mao, who follows him into the room.
"How is this sofa?"
It’s soft, made of genuine leather, and spacious. When he returns that autumn, he had embraced his ex-wife on this very sofa and made love to her. It felt so good.
"I say, Ah Lian, how old is your child? I’ve never heard you mention it before." Lao Mao stands at the door of the second bedroom, staring into the room as he casually asks this question.
Zhan Lian doesn’t respond. What’s he talking about? He simply turns back from the sofa and is about to head to the master bedroom to look for his ex-wife. But as he passes behind Lao Mao, he hears Lao Mao speak again.
"Your ex-wife is quite thoughtful. The whole house is full of real flowers. Your children must feel like they’re living in a fairy tale every day."
Zhan Lian freezes. He tilts his head and stands behind Lao Mao, peering over his shoulder into the room. What he sees stops him in his tracks.
The room is covered with a sea of pink flowers, blooming vibrantly across the floor. In the middle of this sea of pink, there’s a white baby crib, and a small wind chime hangs at the head of the bed. As the wind blows through the window, the wind chime rings, creating a crisp, melodic sound.
Zhan Lian’s sharp features pale instantly, his complexion turning a shade whiter than any whitening product could achieve. He staggers back, disbelief washing over him. Then, without a second thought, he spins around and rushes into the master bedroom, shouting, "Wife!"
But no one answers.
On the bed, there are scattered documents—property certificates, the divorce agreement, and a notebook.
Zhan Lian’s hands tremble as he walks over, overwhelmed with fear. He has never been this scared in his life. Even when bullets had flown past him in battle, he never felt this way.
Lao Mao, seeing Zhan Lian in this state, doesn’t need to ask any questions. The two have shared a deep, unspoken bond as comrades for many years.
Lao Mao frowns, walks into Doll’s room, and begins searching for clues. He then enters the master bedroom holding a few small baby clothes.
Zhan Lian is sitting on the edge of the bed, trembling as he flips through the notebook.
Lao Mao walks over, holding up a tiny baby monk's robe between two fingers. He points at the pink flowers on the robe and says, looking at Zhan Lian: "How old is your daughter?"
Zhan Lian doesn’t answer. With shaking hands, he turns to the final page of the notebook. The handwriting from Anran strikes him like a sharp pain in his chest.
After a long pause, he lifts his pale face and purses his lips. "About one and a half months."
"Ha."
Lao Mao raises an eyebrow and looks at Zhan Lian, the hint of a joke in his expression. But as he sees the anguish on Zhan Lian’s face, the playful smile slowly fades, replaced by a solemn look. Without saying another word, Lao Mao turns away, continuing to search for any remaining clues that could lead them to Anran and the child.
After all these years of being brothers, Lao Mao understands Zhan Lian better than anyone. He can see what’s going on—Zhan Lian doesn’t even know his ex-wife has given him a daughter.
This is no small matter. They have fought through many hardships together, seen the tragedies of broken families, and Zhan Lian had steeled himself for the possibility of Anran’s death.
But now there’s a child involved, and that changes everything. If Anran and the child are alive, Zhan Lian will spend the rest of his life searching for them. If they’re both gone, Zhan Lian will likely be consumed by a lifetime of regret.