Chapter 89: We Will Always, Always Love You

After seeing off the last young man, too overwhelmed to speak, Mikhail watched him disappear into the distance until no trace remained, then returned to his office, longing to snatch up his coat, whirl it twice in the air, and shout with joy:

“Off duty! Off duty! Time to eat!”

Being a shareholder of the magazine was fine, but one of its core purposes was surely just to eat.

Just as Mikhail began enthusiastically packing up, a knock came at the door—his face instantly fell.

Who the hell is it now?

Fortunately, after he steadied himself and called “Come in,” the door opened to reveal the excited Pulheriya and Dunya, whose complexion had recently begun to regain its rosy hue.

“Mama, I was just about to come find you.”

Seeing them, Mikhail instantly relaxed and smiled: “It’s getting late—let’s go eat soon.”

Because they hadn’t seen each other for so long, and because by the time his mother and sister arrived, Mikhail already had some financial stability—he was no longer short on money—so although they originally planned to stay only briefly, they ended up extending their stay out of concern for his daily life.

Now, seeing Mikhail about to move into a new home and his financial situation greatly improved, they were preparing to return home for a while to handle some matters, and might come back again when they had time.

By the way, Mikhail had kept from them the high-stakes gamble he took over the anthology—after all, others might merely sigh in awe, but if his mother and sister knew, they’d only add to their worries and burdens.

Others hearing of it would just murmur in admiration, but if they knew, they’d likely begin anxiously scheming and running about for him even before the results came out.

Fortunately, everything turned out well; afterward, Mikhail briefly recounted the events without going into excessive detail.

His mother Pulheriya, though shaken at first, finally relaxed when she saw his current condition and status.

As for his sister, Mikhail suspected she had guessed something—during the weeks before the anthology’s publication, Dunya’s gaze toward him had always carried worry and tension, and she had prayed for him for days on end before God.

Yet for some reason, even now that his circumstances had never been better, her dark eyes still seemed to harbor some hidden unease.

“Dear Misha, this is our first time in your office.”

Looking at Mikhail’s spacious office and his well-tailored clothes, the old woman beamed with genuine joy:

“Dunya and I always believed you’d have a bright future, but who could have imagined it would come so fast? Just through your talent and collaboration with friends, you’ve reached this point in no time. Who could say this isn’t God’s design?

You suffered so much—now you’ll never have to live like that again.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Seeing Pulheriya grow melancholy over his past hardships, Mikhail held her hand as he showed her around the office: “Our days will only get better.”

After chatting and laughing for a while, Mikhail led his mother and sister toward a nearby restaurant.

Although his mother and sister had never wanted to burden him during their stay in Shengbidebao—even considering finding short-term work here—Mikhail naturally refused to let that happen.

After all, how could he let them travel so far just to suffer?

So in recent days, with some spare cash, Mikhail had taken them out to eat often—giving them money outright only made them want to save it for other plans.

Thanks to Mikhail’s insistence, his mother and sister now looked far healthier, their faces no longer gaunt and worn as when they first arrived—clear proof that his life was slowly improving.

Soon, the group arrived at a decent restaurant. Though Pulheriya kept urging him to save money, Mikhail stuck to his own pace and ordered several meat-heavy dishes.

While waiting for the food, Pulheriya and Mikhail chatted, and she began advising him on how to live after they left—listing daily details, inevitably tinged with sadness.

Throughout, the quiet girl said little, only occasionally glancing at her weary brother, her mind replaying everything she’d witnessed these past weeks.

Because Pulheriya couldn’t read but wanted to hear what people thought of Mikhail’s novels, Dunya often read aloud the reviews from magazines and newspapers.

She only read him the praise—but in the process, she came to understand more clearly Mikhail’s leanings on certain matters, and the dangers those leanings might bring.

But even if she understood, what could she do?

Could she stop him? Perhaps she should.

The quiet girl had spent long months pondering this, and had mentioned it to Mikhail more than once, discussing it with him.

Now, they were indeed preparing to return home for a while, and before leaving—

Watching Pulheriya’s advice to Mikhail come to a pause, the girl looked at him with a gaze both sorrowful and luminous, and spoke:

“Brother, if one day you feel you no longer want to stay here, if you grow tired—come back. Mother and I will be waiting at home. We still have a small courtyard—even in winter, the sun sometimes shines on it. Mother and I can still work.

When you return, we’ll never separate again. We’re willing to care for you always—you know how much we love you, how we will always, always love you.”

Mikhail had anticipated these words from his sister, but he’d assumed they were merely words of comfort—now, hearing them spoken aloud, he was struck speechless. When he finally met the eyes of the two women, filled with quiet worry, he could only grasp their hands and say: “I’ll take care of myself.”

(End of chapter)