Chapter 74: Your Mother Has the Final Say

Lin Zhao saw the three sons’ different reactions, pulled her youngest son to her front, and looked at him with smiling eyes: “Third son likes the dictionary?”

The little boy clutched the thick, heavy dictionary in his tiny hands and nodded gently.

A soft, milky voice spoke, each word deliberate: “Like it. Third son likes it.”

Lin Zhao wrapped her arm around his shoulder; the child was so small he seemed nestled entirely in her embrace.

“The dictionary is for all of you to use. If you like it, take it. When you’re older, Mama will teach you how to use it.”

Third son was always quiet, rarely asked for anything. Though he was at the age when children often wet the bed, he rarely did—when he needed to pee, he’d wake up on his own, use his little urinal, then quietly climb back into bed without wandering off, even more well-behaved than the twins.

Now, hearing his mother’s words, the little boy who had just learned to walk dared to make a request.

“Mama, I want to learn.” His small face was serious, cheeks puffed slightly, his expression earnest and solemn.

“You want to learn now?” Lin Zhao touched his cheek, surprised.

“Mm!” Third son nodded firmly.

He rarely cared so deeply about anything—Lin Zhao naturally granted his wish, speaking softly: “Alright. It’s too late tonight. I’ll teach you tomorrow, okay, baby?”

With such a well-behaved son, raising her voice even slightly felt like a sin.

His clear, dark eyes suddenly curved into a smile; his chubby cheeks lit up, radiating a soothing, pure, milky warmth.

He took a small step forward, wrapping his two plump, lotus-like arms around Lin Zhao: “Mama.”

His tone was calm; only his youth lent it that childlike softness.

Lin Zhao could already picture it: this milky, adorable third son would only be like this for a few more years. When he grew older, he’d be even more composed than his father—no matter how much you teased him, he’d never laugh, only look at you with weary patience.

Just thinking of it, a sudden pang of melancholy rose in her chest.

While he was still small, still toddling clumsily, she pressed a loud kiss to his cheek.

Third son watched his mother quietly.

Lin Zhao kissed him again, her gaze bright: “Why are you staring at Mama? Don’t let Mama kiss you?”

At that moment, Second son, reeling from the emotional blow, strode over.

He lifted his face, offering his cheek willingly, pouting: “Mama, kiss me too.”

He glanced back at Gu Chenghuai with a resentful look, then buried his face in Lin Zhao’s arms, lips trembling, voice dripping with grievance: “I don’t like the gift Dad gave me at all. I need Mama’s kisses to feel better.”

Gu Chenghuai’s smile vanished instantly; he grabbed the back of Second son’s neck and pulled him over.

“And why the rush?” he said.

“You’re five and a half, not a two-year-old. Don’t bother your mother all day.”

Especially with kisses.

Second son, momentarily distracted, stared at his father skeptically: “More gifts?!”

Gu Chenghuai forcibly dragged him away, rummaged through the luggage, and pulled out several picture books, shoving them into his hands.

“Picture books. A five-year-old should read more, or you’ll get tricked.” His expression was cold and stern.

Second son’s head buzzed at the sight of the books—all lingering effects of the dictionary.

He didn’t want to take them.

His whole body screamed resistance.

But he had no choice.

His father was watching him, darn it.

Second son plastered on a fake smile, reluctantly took the books, flipped through them half-heartedly and bitterly—then accidentally saw the illustrations inside.

His eyes lit up instantly; his smile widened, stretching nearly to his ears.

“Brother! There are pictures in the book!”

“It’s the storybook Mama talked about!”

First son dashed over, leaned in, and his eyes brightened too at the sight of the drawings.

It really was a storybook!

“Thank you, Dad!” he politely thanked Gu Chenghuai, then turned to Second son: “Second son, let’s read with Tiechui and the others tomorrow, okay?”

Second son chirped: “Okay!”

Gu Chenghuai let the brothers decide, then pulled out more picture books.

“The Shining Red Star,” “Song of the Mountain Eagle,” “Crossing the Chishui River Four Times,” “Landmine War,” “Railway Guerrillas”…

All of them!

The twins were overjoyed, hugging the picture books and carefully placing them on the desk.

Lin Zhao loosely tied her hair behind her and walked over to help them tidy up, smiling: “Once the house is built, you’ll each have your own room. Then I’ll have someone make you a bookshelf, just for your books.”

Second son hugged her waist tightly, voice sweet as honey: “Mama is the best.”

A few steps away.

Gu Chenghuai began handing out gifts to his little princess: a pink dress, a tiny hat, hair clips, red ribbons—and even more absurdly, a cloth doll as big as her arm.

Fourth daughter adored the doll, clutching it tightly, smiling sweeter than cotton candy.

She waved at her father, as if to whisper something.

Gu Chenghuai gently tugged his pant leg, crouched halfway, yet kept his upper body straight and upright, his voice low and gentle: “What is it?”

The little milk-bun’s eyes curved happily; she wrapped her arms around his neck, nuzzling her fuzzy little head against his shoulder and neck—her father’s heart melted.

Deep in Gu Chenghuai’s dark eyes, a spark of radiant light slowly bloomed.

The twins saw this and pouted.

Meanwhile, Third son sat on a small stool, flipping through the dictionary with serious focus, as if the square characters held some mysterious allure.

People fear comparison most.

First son and Second son had been perfectly content and happy—until they saw their father bring so many gifts for their sister. Even good brothers couldn’t help feeling a little sour, like swallowing a sour fruit.

Second son knew only his mother could rein in his father. He tugged Lin Zhao’s hand, shook it gently, his eyes dimmed, losing their usual sparkle.

He complained to his mother, voice trembling with grievance.

“Mama, you’ve got to manage your man—he’s being unfair.”

He didn’t just complain—he had proof.

He spoke with righteous indignation: “Dad gave Sister six gifts—six whole gifts! Everything she could want! But he gave us boys only a dictionary and picture books—not even a crumb of candy! Mama, are we really Dad’s biological sons?”

“Are boys so worthless in this family?! I’m not accepting this! Dad favors girls over boys!” Second son grew angrier, neck stiff, face turned away, lips pouting so hard they could hang a small oil bottle.

It did seem a bit biased.

Lin Zhao frowned at Gu Chenghuai, giving him a look that clearly said: You really are being unfair.

Gu Chenghuai offered no explanation. He turned, pulled a pair of red double-happiness table tennis paddles and three small yellow balls from his luggage.

“Bias? Then here—these paddles are for Bangbang.”

First son and Second son had never seen this before, but they sensed it was something fun.

Clever Second son darted over, treating his father like a tree, scrambling up him with hands and feet, trying to cling to him.

He called out affectionately, over and over: “Dad! Dad! The best dad in the whole brigade! What’s this? Is this another gift you brought us? What’s it for? I’ve never seen anything like it…”

“Dad, me and my brother are your sons—we don’t know anything, and not knowing makes you and Mama look bad. Give it to us, please.”

First son, seeing there were two paddles, guessed it was for two people to play—each holding one paddle, hitting the ball back and forth.

His mind raced, imagining how table tennis worked. He said: “Dad, Mama’s often bored. When my brother and I learn, we can play table tennis to entertain her.”

After delivering this direct appeal, he politely asked: “So can you give us the paddles? My brother and I will treasure them.”

Second son, still clinging to Gu Chenghuai, wiggled violently: “Dad, please, Dad, Dad…”

This behavior—polite to call it adaptable, bluntly put, was shameless.

Gu Chenghuai remained unmoved, standing like a cold, unyielding pine on a cliff, utterly still despite his son’s antics.

He calmly set his condition: “For the next month, obey me. Wake up early and train with me. Then I’ll give you both the paddles.”

Lin Zhao had assumed her husband wouldn’t start “training” the boys for at least a week—she never expected it to begin tonight, not even a full night had passed!

His “training” wasn’t just standing at attention—it was running, jumping, exhausting them until they collapsed like dogs, sleeping like dead pigs by night.

The exercise he mentioned wasn't standing at attention, but running and running and running, jumping and jumping and jumping—by the end of the day, he’d be exhausted as a dog, and sleep like a dead pig at night.

She didn’t intervene. First son and Second son were her own flesh and blood—Gu Chenghuai would surely find training methods suited to them.

“No big deal!” Second son puffed out his chest, standing tall like a young poplar in the forest, grinning confidently: “My brother and I can handle it. Training? You say jump, we jump.”

He flexed imaginary biceps, his eyes shining with pure, unguarded determination: “I want to get strong to protect Mama. This little hardship? It’s nothing—it’s, uh, that thing… easy…”

He stumbled on the word, but his small body, illuminated by the kerosene lamp, radiated reliability.

First son added: “It means ‘light and effortless’—very simple.”

“Yes, yes! Light and effortless!” Second son didn’t mind his brother being smarter.

In his heart, his brother was his brother—born a few minutes earlier, naturally wiser.

“I’ll study hard too,” First son said solemnly.

Gu Chenghuai nodded in satisfaction: “Your first task.”

The two boys snapped to attention, as if entrusted with a sacred mission, their tender faces gazing at their father with eager, barely contained excitement.

“Take your brother and sister to bed.”

The two boys’ shoulders slumped slightly: “...Okay.”

Second son pulled open the drawer; First son placed the paddles and balls inside.

Once everything was tidied, the two boys went to lead their younger siblings.

Fourth daughter still hugged her doll, watching her mother carefully pack away her dress and hair clips before obediently following her brothers to bed.

The fourth child still clutched her cloth doll, watching quietly as Mother packed away her little dress and hair clips, before obediently following her brothers to bed.

The third child flipped through the dictionary and sat motionless for a long while.

The second child urged him; the little one closed the dictionary, cradling the thick book with both hands, gazing calmly at his second brother, his tiny, steady voice saying, “Legs… got longer.”

Gu Chenghuai raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes filled with confusion.

Lin Zhao guessed: “His legs are numb.”

“...”

Watching the man whose face had softened at his son’s cuteness, she couldn’t help smiling.

Gu Chenghuai felt raising children was exhausting—not only did he have to manage their meals and clothes, he had to guess what they meant.

He gently rubbed the top of Lin Zhao’s hair, his broad, warm palm tender.

The man stepped toward the third child, moving slowly out of concern for the boy’s numb legs, lifting him carefully, massaging his legs with controlled pressure, constantly watching the child’s reactions.

The third child wrapped his arms around his father’s neck, sweet and obedient, murmuring thanks: “Thank you, Dad.”

“I’m your father, your real father. Taking care of you is my duty—no need to thank me,” Gu Chenghuai said, his tone calm.

The little boy smiled, using his short, chubby hands to pat his father’s face.

Meanwhile, the twins and their little sister climbed onto the bed, each settling into their own spot, waving at Lin Zhao: “Mom, come here.”

They all wanted their mother to lie beside them.

Every night at this hour, Lin Zhao found it hard—this water was truly hard to balance.

What could she do?

She pretended not to see the three pairs of pleading eyes, lying down beside the bed and changing the subject: “Tonight, let your father tell you a bedtime story. He’s tired after a long day at work.”

Hearing this, the first child scooted closer and began massaging his mother’s shoulders: “Mom, let me rub your shoulders—Grandma says I’m really good at it, you’ll feel lighter in no time!”

The second child had been lying on his small pillow, legs crossed and swinging, a smirk on his lips, lost in some pleasant thought. Seeing his brother’s action, he shot up, slid over, and began massaging Lin Zhao’s legs.

“Mom, let me rub your legs—I’m great at it, I guarantee you’ll feel refreshed in a second!”

The fourth child sat stunned, this two-year-old little bundle experiencing the feeling of being outdone for the first time.

The little one rubbed her eyes, snuggled into Lin Zhao’s arms, grabbed the collar of her nightdress with her tiny, soft hands, smeared saliva on her mother’s face—each smear followed by a soft, pure, radiant smile.

“Mom~”

Anyone with a daughter understands the feeling of this moment.

Lin Zhao pulled the fourth child close, patting her back gently, whispering: “This lifetime, with me here, with your father and your brothers here, our fourth child will surely be happy.”

This child had no lack of love or warmth—she didn’t believe her daughter would ever, because of some petty kindness, grow fond of that rotten man and become that pitiful, tragic, lamentable version of herself.

Lin Zhao’s rhythmic pats continued; the fourth child nestled in her mother’s arms, her little head nodding, eyes closing, then forcing them open again, then closing, then opening… then closing.

Soft words still continued, very quiet.

“The cinema is showing a new movie called ‘The Female Pilot.’ It’s very good. The day after tomorrow, your father and I will take you to see it.”

“...Pilot? Like, someone who flies planes?!” The first child’s eyes sparkled, his whole face lighting up.

“Exactly. I know you want to be a pilot—when I heard the cinema was showing a movie about female pilots, your father and I skipped dinner to go watch it for you. It’s good—suitable for children,” Lin Zhao smiled.

The first child danced with excitement; if it weren’t so late, he’d have run around outside.

“Thank you, Mom!”

The second child was also delighted, asking: “Mom, why not take us tomorrow?”

Less than two minutes later, the fourth child was fast asleep, her favorite stuffed doll abandoned beside her, fists clenched, body curled into a ball, her little belly rising and falling peacefully.

“Your father just got back—he needs to visit your grandparents first,” Lin Zhao whispered.

The Lin family held great respect for Gu Chenghuai’s profession, but if he were their son-in-law (or younger brother-in-law), they’d inevitably have complaints.

Soldiers come home once or twice a year; everything big and small at home falls on the wife. Zhaozhao suffers so much.

Gu Chenghuai walked to the bedside.

The third child in his arms had also fallen asleep.

“You stayed up too late today—you’re worn out,” Lin Zhao said, moving aside with the twins.

Gu Chenghuai bent down, his lean waist forming a silhouette full of strength.

He laid the third and fourth children side by side, lowering his voice to the twins: “You two go to sleep too—I’ll wake you tomorrow morning.”

The two boys slid under the covers instantly.

The first child was deeply excited about the pilot movie; his clear eyes fixed on his father: “Dad, Mom said we’re going to the movies the day after tomorrow—you really will take us, right?”

“In our family, your mother calls the shots,” Gu Chenghuai said.

Meaning: as long as your mother agrees, I’m fine with it.

The first child beamed, pulled up the thin blanket, and tucked it over himself and his brother’s stomachs.

“Dad, tomorrow when you take Mom back to her parents’ house—can you take us too? I miss Grandpa and Grandma,” the second child suddenly said.