Chapter 12: The "Fortune" from Father
After speaking, Wang Xiaohu truly marched toward Zhou Susu’s front door with two followers in tow, his demeanor fierce as he prepared to “accuse the villain first.”
A cold smile curled at the corner of Zhou Susu’s lips.
Just in time.
She rose unhurriedly, and just a moment before Wang Xiaohu could knock, she flung the door wide open.
Wang Xiaohu’s raised hand awkwardly froze in midair.
“Little Wang Xiaohu,” Zhou Susu’s face bore a “kind” smile, yet her voice chilled like ice, “what were you just saying?”
“I…” Wang Xiaohu felt a chill from her smile that concealed a dagger in her eyes, but still, he mustered the courage to complain, “Aunt Zhou! Lu An’an… she… she threw a stone at me!”
“Oh?” Zhou Susu’s gaze swept past him to the two guilt-ridden followers behind, “Is that so?”
She then lowered her eyes to where An’an had, at some unknown moment, come running to her side, clutching her leg tightly.
“An’an, tell Mommy, why did you throw a stone at Brother Xiaohu?”
An’an lifted her head, her eyes red-rimmed with tears, her little mouth quivering with grievance.
“He… he called me names…”
“What did he call you?” Zhou Susu gently coaxed.
“He called me… a… bad luck star…” An’an’s voice trembled with sobs, but the words were clear and distinct.
The smile vanished from Zhou Susu’s face instantly.
She straightened, towering over Wang Xiaohu with an icy glare.
“Wang Xiaohu, I’ll ask you again—who started it?”
The overwhelming presence pressed down on Wang Xiaohu, nearly suffocating him.
He opened his mouth but could not utter a single word.
“When you’re wrong, you must apologize,” Zhou Susu’s voice brooked no argument. “Right now, immediately, apologize to An’an.”
“I… I won’t!” Wang Xiaohu, relying on being a boy, made one last defiant stand.
“Won’t apologize?” Zhou Susu sneered coldly. “Fine. Then I’ll have to visit your home and have a good talk with Officer Wang.”
“I’ll discuss with him how children in the military district’s compound receive moral education.”
“By the way, I’ll ask where his son learned this feudal superstition about being a ‘bad luck star’ and bringing misfortune to parents.”
Hearing the threat of involving his parents, Wang Xiaohu immediately cowered.
His father was proud and would surely skin him alive if he found out about this trouble.
“I…I…” He stammered for a long time, then reluctantly mumbled a barely audible, “S-sorry…”
“Louder! Didn’t you eat?” Zhou Susu snapped.
“Sorry!” Wang Xiaohu nearly shouted, tears threatening to spill.
“Go away.” Zhou Susu waved dismissively, as if shooing flies.
The three unruly children slunk away once again.
…
That evening, Lu Zhan returned home and heard about the day’s events.
He looked at his daughter, who was bent over the table, seriously scribbling with crayons that Zhou Susu had given her (a product from the space), and felt a surge of mixed emotions.
He approached an old locked wooden chest — the belongings of his fallen comrade, Zhao Weiguo, An’an’s biological father.
He took out the key and opened it.
Inside were some military medals, a few old uniforms, and a thick stack of letters.
He carefully took out each item, preparing to clean and organize them.
As he lifted the last bundle of letters, a neatly folded note slipped out from an envelope.
Lu Zhan picked up the note and unfolded it.
It was a bank deposit slip.
The account name was Zhao Weiguo.
The amount deposited made even this seasoned battalion commander gasp.
Two thousand yuan.
In the early 1980s, when an ordinary worker’s monthly wage was only thirty or forty yuan, two thousand yuan was an enormous sum—enough to change the fate of a family.
On the back of the deposit slip was a hastily scrawled will from Zhao Weiguo:
“Brother, if I am unfortunate, leave this money to my daughter An’an as her dowry. Be sure to personally hand it to her future husband so she can marry with dignity.”
Holding this thin yet weighty deposit slip, Lu Zhan’s eyes instantly reddened.
He seemed to see again the young figure on the battlefield who, to protect him, resolutely threw himself onto a grenade.
He was silent for a long time.
Finally, he stood and approached Zhou Susu, who was sitting by the lamp, accompanying An’an in drawing.
Without a word, he decisively placed the deposit slip on the table beside her.
A thin, slightly yellowed slip lay quietly on the table.
Under the dim light, the numbers on it stood out starkly.
Two thousand yuan.
Zhou Susu stared at the string of zeros, blinking as if she might be seeing things.
“What… what is this?” she looked up at Lu Zhan uncertainly.
His eyes were still red, and his voice hoarse.
“It’s the compensation and all the savings of An’an’s father,” he paused, then added, “Originally, it was meant to be An’an’s dowry.”
Zhou Susu’s heart sank deeply.
A dowry…
A father’s deepest and most beautiful blessing for his daughter’s future.
Yet he would never see the day she wore her wedding dress.
Zhou Susu felt the deposit slip grow scorching and heavy in her hands.
“This money is too precious; I can’t…”
“Keep it.”
Lu Zhan cut her off, his tone resolute.
He looked at An’an, still leaning over the table, drawing with crayons, unaware of everything, his gaze softer and firmer than ever before.
“Brother Zhao’s last wish was for An’an to have a magnificent wedding. But now, I think what he truly hopes for is to see An’an grow up healthy and happy.”
He lifted his eyes, burning with determination as he met Zhou Susu’s.
“This family is yours now. How to spend this money is up to you.”
“I have only one request,” he said slowly, emphasizing each word, “Spend it all on An’an. For her food, clothes, and needs, give her the best.”
At this moment, Lu Zhan was no longer the awkward, straightforward man he had been.
He was a man standing tall, fulfilling his duty as a father on behalf of a fallen comrade.
Zhou Susu looked at him, emotions swirling within her.
She no longer refused.
“All right.” She nodded solemnly, carefully putting away the deposit slip. “I promise to make An’an the happiest child in this compound.”
It was a vow.
A promise to Lu Zhan, and to the heroic father watching from above.