Chapter 160: Joy of Reunion

Lin Zhenfeng didn't turn around; he knew it was a dream.

The setting sun spilled onto his back, and in this little mountain village he had dreamed countless times.

In the dream was his daughter Yan Yan as a child, shouting "Dad" while dashing to leap into his arms.

He had only this one daughter, whom he treasured like a jewel in his palm.

"Dad…" Lin Qingyan choked out.

The call was strikingly clear, more real than any dream before.

Lin Zhenfeng's shoulders couldn't help trembling slightly.

He tried to turn slowly, and in the scattered light he suddenly squinted, not because the sun was blinding.

The sunset's rays were gentle; even when looking toward them, they weren't harsh.

He clearly saw a vague, graceful silhouette; though indistinct, its outline was very familiar.

"Yan Yan? Is that Yan Yan?"

The corners of Lin Zhenfeng's eyes were unmistakably wet.

He dared not be sure that the one standing there was the daughter he had longed for on countless sleepless nights.

"Dad…"

Seeing that familiar yet strange face, Lin Qingyan could no longer restrain her longing and ran down the slope.

As if in a dream, when his daughter leapt into his arms, Lin Zhenfeng's face broke into a happy smile.

Even if it were just a dream, he felt content.

"Yan Yan, dad dreamed of you just yesterday."

Lin Qingyan collapsed into her father's arms, sobbing: "Dad, this isn't a dream; your daughter has come to see you."

"Not a dream?" Lin Zhenfeng murmured, as if it truly weren't a dream.

The warm feeling of his daughter in his arms, and the wet tears, made everything feel so real.

Lin Zhenfeng, overwhelmed with emotion, said, "Yan Yan, is that really you? How did you get here? How did you find me?"

He still couldn't believe it; seeing his daughter seemed impossible.

"Dad, I miss you so much."

Stroking his daughter's warm, tear‑streaked face, Lin Zhenfeng couldn't help shedding his own tears; these past years he had often missed her.

"Don't cry, Yan Yan, don't cry. Dad's here; I won't let anyone hurt you. Don't cry…"

Lin Qingyan felt safe only beside two men: first her father, second Lu Cheng.

Under Lin Zhenfeng's gentle reassurance, Lin Qingyan's emotions gradually eased.

"No more crying. My beautiful daughter looks like a monster when she cries."

Lin Qingyan pursed her lips; in front of her father she could drop all pretenses and, like a petulant child, muttered, "Now you're already disliking me."

"Ha ha, silly child, how could dad ever dislike you?" Lin Zhenfeng affectionately patted his daughter's head.

"Come, sit here and rest a bit. Dad'll pour you some water. You must be exhausted from the journey; this mountain path isn't easy."

Lin Zhenfeng busied himself moving a bench and pouring water, while Lin Qingyan stood there surveying the surroundings.

The mountain eave extended ten‑plus meters, creating a large space below, suitable for teaching children; it may not block wind, but it certainly shields rain.

Further inside, there was room for a wardrobe and a bed; the parents must be sleeping there.

Lin Qingyan ran her hand over the desks, unsure where they'd been scavenged; some tabletops were cracked, some legs broken, propped up with stones.

"Dad, do you live here?"

Lin Qingyan felt deep sorrow; compared with her father's living conditions, the grievances she endured in the Capital City before marrying Lu Cheng seemed trivial.

Lin Zhenfeng had already poured hot water and was bent over, rummaging in the cabinet for tea leaves.

What he called tea leaves were actually dried chrysanthemums.

His beloved Yu Wanrong complained the water tasted bland; she used to drink coffee, but there's no coffee here.

Once, Lin Zhenfeng went up the mountain, saw daisies blooming everywhere, harvested them, dried them, and brewed them as tea.

Lin Zhenfeng handed over the yellowed chrysanthemum water: "Yes, but don't let the shabbiness fool you; it's warm in winter, cool in summer, more comfortable than the little western house we used to live in."

Lin Qingyan knew her father was consoling her, took the porcelain bowl brimming with water and said, "Thank you, Dad."

Lin Zhenfeng suddenly hardened his expression: "This child is really foolish, thanking dad with just two words."

Lin Qingyan lowered her head: "I'm used to it."

The single word "I'm used to it" made Lin Zhenfeng's heart ache; he wasn't by her side, and his daughter had to live so cautiously.

"Drink up; this is dad's sun‑dried chrysanthemum, it clears heat. When you leave, I'll take the whole batch with you. I want some now, and we can harvest more next year."

Lin Qingyan nodded slightly, took a sip, then remembered: "By the way, Dad, where's Mom? I don't see her. Isn't she with you?"

Lin Zhenfeng had his daughter sit at the desk: "Your mother is bathing in the shed behind us. You could say she's Small Bourgeoisie—already here, still bathing every day. The water I fetch isn't even enough for her bath."

Seeing Lin Zhenfeng's helpless expression, Lin Qingyan couldn't help a half‑smile.

At that moment, a voice rang out.

"Who's calling who Small Bourgeoisie? Lin Zhenfeng, do you have any conscience? I've come all this way to share your hardships; even if you're still bourgeois, you've been reformed enough, right?"

Hearing the familiar, affectionate scolding, Lin Qingyan stood; a middle‑aged woman was wiping her hair as she walked over.

It was clear the woman's features bore a resemblance to Lin Qingyan's.

Even in coarse hemp clothing, she still exuded lingering charm.

"Mom…"

Lin Qingyan called softly, and Yu Wanrong obviously froze for a moment, and when she lifted her head and saw the child before her, she rubbed her eyes to be sure she wasn't mistaken.

She stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly: "Yan Yan, is that my Yan Yan?"

"Mom, I've come to see you."

It's been several years since we last met; the longing feels like a knife scraping my bones, tormenting me day and night.

Mother and daughter clasped their heads and wept bitterly, repeatedly calling out, but they could not utter any other words.

Lin Zhenfeng sighed, turned away silently, and wiped away his tears.

"Alright, you two stop crying; a family reunion is a cause for joy. I'll go make food first; our daughter must be starving."

Yu Wanrong gestured, "Then you should hurry and go, make something tasty; look how thin my daughter has become."

Yu Wanrong cupped her daughter's chin with both hands, tears still silently streaming.

Upon hearing the request to make something delicious, Lin Zhenfeng froze in place; his daughter had traveled a thousand miles to see them, and of course he wanted to prepare a tasty dish for her.

But there was nothing decent here to offer.

When he saw a pile of herbs drying on the wooden rack at the doorway, a smile finally appeared on his face.

"Dad, let me help you."

Lin Qingyan was about to roll up her sleeves and go help, when Yu Wanrong stopped her: "Oh, you don't need to busy yourself; your father can manage alone. Sit here quickly and talk with Mom; Mom has many things to say to you."

Lin Qingyan also had many things she wanted to say to her mother.

"Mom, why are you living here? How can people live in this place?"

Yu Wanrong sighed, "Ah, never mind, this is already good enough. You know, your father and I once lived in a cattle shed, feeding cows for the production team. You have no idea how it smelled—so stinky it numbed the brain."

Back then, a few children kept throwing stones at your father; he never got angry with them. We had no right to be angry either, and we even had to teach those children to read.

Later, the production team leader found a new place for your father, making it convenient for the village children to study.