The sky was dark and gloomy, full of snow. The northwest wind, like a wounded beast, wailed incessantly.

The standing people had red at the corners of their eyes from being blown by the wind. Over seventy percent of the world’s nations had lowered their flags on this day. Funeral bells seemed to reverberate in the air above the whole world, floating incessantly. 

This was…the first snow of winter this year. 

The truth about Utopia had been “selectively” publicized. The list of martyrs killed in action during this war was regularly broadcast by all the major TV stations. It was already over. There was no sense in pursuing the truth. For the vast majority of people, all they needed was to remember the names of these heroes and use the power of their grief to continue being easy, breezy, and beautiful. 

The news was broadcasting this incomparably high-standard funeral. Su Chengde sat on the couch holding Tu Tutu. The living room was well-heated. Snowflakes hit the window lattice, which kept the wind and snow outside. The warm people were nearly falling asleep. 

Tu Tutu became unusually silent. One of Su Chengde’s hands was on his back, patting him as though petting a small animal. 

Tu Tutu climbed up Su Chengde’s arm and rubbed it with his little head. Like a little grown-up, he said, “Oh, my goodness, now I can stop worrying.—Right, Grandpa, my Imperial Uncle called this morning to say he was coming back for dinner tonight.” 

Su Chengde asked, “What can you stop worrying about?” 

Tu Tutu said, “We don’t have to run and hide everywhere anymore. After this, when someone asks me where my parents are, I can seriously tell them that they gave their lives for the cause of antiterrorism. If you ask me something, I won’t have to dodge and avoid anymore.” 

The spot where the microchip tower had blown up had been very close to Su Qing and the others. They had all been somewhat affected and taken to the hospital for a period of observation. Su Qing had long ago forgotten the word “obey.” The very first day he had been brought to the hospital, he had snuck off that same night for a trip home, and Su Chengde had at last been able to set his worries to rest. 

The days of being sealed off, the urgent public notices, and the rolling news broadcasts afterwards had made the old man very uneasy. He had faintly felt that these people had something to do with him hearing no news of Su Qing after he had left. But when Su Qing had come home that time, before he had said two sentences, he had been found at home by a crowd of people who looked like military surgeons and taken away. 

Then a few people had hastily come by with him, left some things he normally used, and said he would be back home on the weekend. Before the tea had cooled, he had been called away again by a phone call. 

A couple of days ago, another group of people had come over, left a stack of commendations, and expressed regards for the hero’s relatives. There had even been reporters. 

Su Chengde had found to his astonishment that he had at some point become “the hero’s relative.” 

So Su Chengde had asked unflappably, “What…is all of this?” 

Su Chengde had attempted many times to start a conversation with this little devil, but he had found that this little whelp who hadn’t even started middle school yet truly was shrewd. Each time, he fobbed him off with shameless antics. Su Qing was the only child Su Chengde had ever raised, so he had always thought that children normally had intellects like his idiot son when he was little. Comparatively speaking, he found to his amazement that Tu Tutu’s IQ really was above average for his age. 

Tu Tutu sat crosslegged on the couch. Looking wearied by experience, he began to recount in an incoherent way. He told of the grey house, of his suddenly vanished parents, of that strange uncle who had hanged himself like a rat, of how he had been entrusted to Su Qing, how they had run away from that tall building, how they had met Grandpa Ji, how they had drifted around changing names again and again. 

As he listened, Su Chengde felt that he had traveled to another world. Dumbfounded, he looked at this round-headed little boy and suddenly found that his son really had been missing for so many years…that he had nearly not come back. 

Just then, Tu Tutu suddenly tugged at Su Chengde. “Grandpa, Grandpa, look, quick, it’s my Imperial Uncle and the others!” 

On the TV, the image had changed. The crowd became agitated. The reporters came over like a swarm of bees. Several camera lenses flashed. Not far away, an off-road car stopped. 

Tu Tutu jubilantly said, “I know that car. I even rode in it.” 

Before Su Chengde could come around, he looked at the screen along with Tu Tutu and saw the car door open. Five men and one woman jumped out. The excited voice of the host said something. Su Chengde thought that he hadn’t heard a single word clearly. He was only watching them get out of the car. The crowd cleared a path for them. There were people saluting. Su Qing was all wrapped up in a trim, well-fitted coat and wearing a very large pair of sunglasses, but Su Chengde still had no trouble recognizing him. 

His spine didn’t bend in the least. He returned the salutes crisply. He was extremely steady. Only when he lowered his eyes did he reveal a trace of fierceness. 

That’s my son—Su Chengde felt that his eyes were a little blurry and couldn’t resist furtively wiping away tears. Then he rather awkwardly glanced at Tu Tutu and found that the kid was still worked up and hadn’t noticed at all. Then he relaxed. 

“The brat has made something of himself,” Su Chengde said in an indifferent tone. Then he began to feel gloomy again, thinking that he was still an unfilial thing. So many major events had happened, and he hadn’t revealed a trace of it to him. He simply didn’t attach any importance to this father of his. 

Qin Luo was holding a bouquet in her arms. She took two steps forward and leaned down to place it in front of the enormous monument. Then the RZ Unit saluted the brand-new monument in unison. 

As they made their exit, the reporters who had been waiting for a long time rushed up in a crowd. Su Chengde found that his son, who hadn’t been able to speak properly, naturally stepped up to receive the bombardment of this crowd’s questions. He spoke very aptly, simply like a government spokesman. 

“Looks proper enough—though still a little lacking in maturity,” Su Chengde evaluated, looking like it was beneath his dignity. Then, after a while, he asked Tu Tutu, “Tutu, does this news station rebroadcast in the evening? Remember to remind Grandpa to record it.” 

Tu Tutu nodded obediently. When Su Chengde had turned around in satisfaction, he pulled his lips back in a silent, stealthy laugh. 

In fact, Su Qing hadn’t stepped up on his own. He had been caught off guard and pushed from behind by those two bastards Lu Qingbai and Fang Xiu. Then he could only keep up a proper-looking smile for over an hour while being requested to strike all kinds of poses for photos, feeling that his face was about to stiffen into a mummy’s. When he finally got out and was prepared to settle the accounts, he found that the crowd of scoundrels had already fled. 

As he turned a corner, a car honked its horn. Su Qing turned his head and saw Hu Bugui sticking his head out of a car window, waving to him. Su Qing climbed in furiously. “At least you have some conscience.” 

Hu Bugui stroked his hair, which was damp from the snow, and carefully drove the car away. “Will you come have dinner with me tonight?” 

“Um…” Su Qing paused. “I may have to go home.” 

He looked at Hu Bugui in nameless guilt. After a long silence, he finally explained, “Back then, I had a falling out with my dad because of…so…” 

“I know.” Hu Bugui nodded. “Then I’ll drive you.” 

Su Qing lowered his head, rather feeling that he was being unfair to him. 

What made him feel most apologetic was that Hu Bugui very considerately didn’t stop the car at the door to his house but stopped two streets away instead. “You can get out here. You can buy some stuff to bring home on your way. I’ll go back now.” 

“To headquarters?” 

“Yeah.” 

The snow outside seemed to have gotten heavier. Su Qing took a look. His line of sight was practically blocked. There was a layer of white mist on the car window. But inside the car it was very warm. Hu Bugui’s sleeves were slightly rolled up, revealing the edge of a bandage. Su Qing didn’t get out of the car. He drew close and tugged on Hu Bugui’s collar, lowering his head to kiss him. 

Hu Bugui understood this perfectly well. While he wasn’t very good at talking, he had still learned how to handle Su Qing—basically, the more “understanding” and considerate he was, the guiltier Su Qing would feel. So he readily accepted Su Qing’s body pressing down on him with great enjoyment, wrapping one arm around his waist and putting the other on his back, clinging sweetly for a long time. 

The slightly sharp tip of Su Qing’s nose was pressed to his cheek. He sighed quietly. “I’m sorry, I’ll explain it to him over time.” 

Hu Bugui silently patted him on the back. “It’s fine, go ahead.” 

Su Qing got up and looked at him with a complicated expression. Hu Bugui pulled a thicker padded overcoat from the backseat and wrapped it around him. 

Su Qing put on a hat and got out of the car. He dashed towards the nearby supermarket. When he had nearly reached the door of the supermarket, he serendipitously looked back and found that Hu Bugui hadn’t left yet. The windshield wipers made a small clear spot on the car window. Hu Bugui was sitting in the driver’s seat with his elbow propped up, watching him go without moving. When he saw him turn back, a faint, slightly blurred smile appeared on his face. 

Su Qing’s footsteps paused. He suddenly took a deep breath and strode back. He pulled open the car door and grabbed Hu Bugui by the hand. “Come on. Come to the supermarket with me. Don’t go back. Stay at my house tonight.”