Chapter 54:

The train clattered forward. In this carriage, there were six berths in total, and five of them now belonged to them.

Five people traveling such a long distance—if they hadn’t bought sleeper tickets, they would have been half-dead by the time they arrived. Lin Houpu’s rank was sufficient, and given the circumstances, the other party had prepared the tickets for them, sparing them the trouble.

They were mentally prepared—perhaps to see him one last time, or more likely, to attend his funeral if they couldn’t even make it in time. That was why they had brought the two young children along, despite their age making long journeys unsuitable. Traveling with kids meant packing a lot, and their belongings alone filled two large bags.

Yuanyuan had also come along. Lin Yunling didn’t want him to grow up with no memory of his grandfather.

Once they boarded the train, found their seats, and settled their luggage, everyone fell into silence.

Only the children, oblivious to the gravity of the situation, could sleep soundly and carefree. After the initial excitement wore off, the twins dozed off, each nestled in their parents’ arms. The soft snores made it clear they were deep in slumber.

The bottom bunk was reserved for Lin Duzhong—his age made climbing up and down difficult. Lin Chuanbai took the middle bunk above him, while Yu Xiang’an was on the top.

Opposite them, the bottom bunk was occupied by a middle-aged man in a Zhongshan suit, carrying a briefcase, likely on a business trip. Above him was Fu Heqi, and above that was Lin Yunling.

The middle-aged man had boarded earlier than them. When the family arrived, he was startled—five sleeper tickets at once wasn’t something ordinary people could manage. Were they relatives of some high-ranking official? Otherwise, how could they pull off such an arrangement? Sleeper tickets at this time were strictly rationed by rank, and five at once was no small feat.

No wonder he was surprised.

He wanted to strike up a conversation, perhaps to build a connection, but the family remained quiet, sitting in silence after settling in.

Seeing the elderly man across from him lost in thought, he called out, “Comrade, where are you headed? I’m going to Tongcheng.”

Lin Duzhong blinked, snapping out of his daze. Some time had passed since they received the news and boarded the train, and his emotions had stabilized somewhat, though his heart was still in turmoil.

Hearing the man’s question, he forced himself to respond, “We’re going to Qincheng.”

“Qincheng? What a coincidence! I’ll be getting off two stops before you, just half a day earlier.”

Yu Xiang’an and the others had to transfer trains on their way to Qincheng. Barring any delays, the journey would take five days, meaning the middle-aged man would be on board for over four.

Train delays were common nowadays. For long-distance trips, a half-hour delay at one station and an hour at another could easily add up to half a day’s delay by the final destination.

Lin Duzhong managed a faint smile. “Then we’ll be companions for several days.”

That wasn’t a bad thing. The man seemed decent, making the journey less taxing.

“Are you visiting family? You don’t look like you’re on a work trip.” The group—with elderly and children—clearly wasn’t traveling for business.

Lin Duzhong sighed bitterly. “We’re going to see a patient. I just hope we make it in time.”

The man’s heart sank at the implication—things must be dire if merely arriving in time to see the patient was a hopeful outcome. He sighed. “Don’t take it too hard, old man. Good people have heaven’s protection. He’ll pull through.”

“I hope so. I don’t want to bury my own child at my age.” The words carried a heavy sorrow.

For the elderly, this was their greatest fear.

Though he rarely saw this son, they had exchanged letters. Even if they couldn’t meet, knowing he was doing well had given Lin Duzhong peace of mind. But now, something had happened.

How could his heart remain calm?

The middle-aged man paused. “So it’s your son.”

Perhaps it was the phrase “burying one’s own child” that stirred painful memories. He turned to gaze out the window, watching the scenery recede at a steady pace, his eyes distant. “I had a son who joined the military. He idolized soldiers since childhood and was thrilled when he was selected. Our whole family was proud. He did well, earning many honors. But one day… he didn’t make it.” He pulled a medal from his inner pocket, carefully polishing it.

“Just like that, he was gone. Left me and his mother to bury our child.”

Everyone except the sleeping children turned to look.

Lin Duzhong blinked away the moisture in his eyes, his gaze softening with kinship. They were strangers from different places, but in this moment, they understood each other.

They were both fathers.

Lin Chuanbai tightened his grip slightly around Lin Yihong.

This boy—adorable when obedient, infuriating when mischievous—was his son. He, too, was a father. The mere thought of losing a child sent a sharp pang through his heart. While he believed in not restricting a child’s freedom, he couldn’t bear the idea of his son joining the military.

Though future military service would be safer, with advanced technology reducing the need for close combat, danger would always exist. Even in peacetime, he didn’t want his child in harm’s way.

As for Lin Houpu—Lin Chuanbai didn’t feel profound grief. The original host had long grown distant from his parents, let alone him, an outsider. His bond with Lin Duzhong was far deeper.

Lin Yunling’s emotions were far more complicated.

The three siblings had spent little time with their parents. As children, they were left in military daycare, cared for by army wives while their parents were largely absent. Later, they were sent to live with their grandfather.

When was the last time they saw their parents? During their divorce. Years had passed since then—six or seven.

Her son had never met his grandparents. They were always busy—too busy for anyone to criticize.

Listening to her grandfather and the stranger converse below, Lin Yunling’s gaze drifted to the opposite bunk, where her sister-in-law sat against the wall, her niece nestled in her arms. Yu Xiang’an shielded the girl’s ears with one hand, likely to muffle the conversation.

Lin Yunling couldn’t see her sister-in-law’s eyes, but her movements were gentle.

Not only had her son never met his grandparents, but Yu Xiang’an’s children hadn’t either. Only photos had been sent. The same went for their eldest brother’s child. The three siblings had grown up scattered, none raised by their parents. If not for this accident, the only child raised by their father’s side would be his youngest son with his second wife.

At the thought of that stepmother, Lin Yunling’s lips curled slightly in disdain.

If her father passed away without recovering, would that woman regret her choices? She had married him in her twenties and was still under thirty now.

Had her parents’ marriage fallen apart before or after her father’s relationship with the stepmother began?

Only the three of them knew the truth.

Lin Yunling had once believed the latter scenario more likely.

But her mother had remarried quickly—almost as if in competition.

Separate marriages, separate children.

She had thought that was the end of it. She never expected to receive that phone call. Hadn’t he already left the military?

As a factory director, his safety should have been far better than in the army. How could an accident still happen?

The caller had been vague. Was there more to the story?

What kind of accident could it have been?

Whose fault was it? Surely not his—otherwise, their tickets wouldn’t have been arranged.

Feeling Lin Yunling’s gaze, Yu Xiang’an looked up. “Sister, what’s wrong?”

Lin Yunling snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head, rubbing her temples. “Just spacing out.”

There was no point dwelling on it. They’d know the truth when they arrived. Whatever the case, she hoped he’d pull through. He had saved and helped so many—his life shouldn’t end like this.

As a father, he had failed. But for this country, he had given everything he could.

Seeing Lin Yining was sound asleep, Yu Xiang’an carefully laid her down on the narrow bunk, moving with caution.

In some ways, the twins were easy to care for—they weren’t picky about beds.

The train was noisy. After two hours, it slowed at the next station. Some passengers disembarked, while more boarded, their chatter filling the air. A few tried to linger in the sleeper section but were ushered back to the seated cars by the conductor—no ticket, no entry.

Lin Yining woke up, rubbing her eyes with chubby hands and yawning. “Mom, I’m thirsty.”

Yu Xiang’an poured water from the thermos into a cup lid, handing it to her. The girl sipped slowly, still groggy. Once finished, she perked up, taking in her surroundings. Gripping the railing, she peered down. “Mom, we’re so high up. Will we fall? It’ll hurt.”

Lin Chuanbai popped his head out from below. “That’s why you shouldn’t do anything risky. Stay with Mom, okay?”

Lin Yining nodded obediently. “Dad, I understand. Mom, where are we now? Still on the train?”

“Yes, we’ll be on the train for a long time.”

As the train began moving again, the girl stared intently at the shifting scenery outside.

“We’re inside the train. It’s moving.”

“Because we’re moving forward. The outside isn’t moving, but it looks like it’s going backward.”

Soon bored with the view, she asked, “Where’s Brother?”

“He’s with Dad, still sleeping. Do you want to sleep more?”

“No.”

“Then do you want to look at a picture book? Brother’s asleep, so let’s be quiet, okay?”

“Okay.”

Yu Xiang’an pulled out a coloring book filled with drawings of animals—rabbits, birds, ducks, and the like.

Lin Yining studied it earnestly, occasionally asking, “Mom, is this yellow? This green? This red?”

……

Lin Yihong slept longer than his sister.

He woke around lunchtime. They had boarded in the morning, traveled for over two hours, stopped at a station, and continued until mealtime. Passengers bustled about, fetching hot water or buying meals.

Yu Xiang’an had prepared food in advance, so they didn’t need to buy lunch today. But the thermos was empty—someone had to refill it.

She carried Lin Yining down to Lin Duzhong’s bunk. Lin Chuanbai took the empty thermos, heading off with Fu Heqi to fetch hot water.

“Grandpa, keep an eye on her. Sweetie, stay still. Mom’s getting our lunch.”

That morning, she had steamed a pot of cured meat rice, blanched greens, and boiled eggs. The aroma spread as she unpacked the food.

Yuanyuan craned his neck. “Aunt, what did you bring?”

Lin Yunling helped him down. “Hungry? I brought some food too.” Besides boiled eggs, she had bought buns and pancakes.

Lan Wangshan hadn’t planned to eat so soon, but the sight of their preparations made his stomach growl. His own provisions were already gone, so he’d have to buy from the dining car.

Before leaving, he asked them to watch his belongings. Lin Duzhong agreed.

The man carried a bag with his essentials; the rest was just luggage.

Lin Yihong stirred at the smell, murmuring, “Mom?”

“I’m here. Dad’s getting hot water. Don’t move.” He was still on the middle bunk.

Lin Duzhong stood to check. Lin Yihong peeked out, spotting him. “Great-Grandpa.”

“Ah, Yihong’s awake. Hungry?”

The children had woken early that morning and must be starving.

“Mm. Want food.” He was still drowsy.

Soon, Lin Chuanbai and Fu Heqi returned, their clothes slightly disheveled.

Yu Xiang’an took the hot water, using it to warm the rice. In this heat, eating it cold would suffice, but the children needed softer food.

She portioned the meal into small bowls, feeding Lin Yining while Lin Chuanbai handed a bowl to Lin Duzhong before tending to Lin Yihong.

The boy ate slowly, shaking his head after finishing one bowl. “No more.”

“Are you full?”

“No, I want to eat an egg.”

Lin Chuanbai peeled an egg for him and let him hold it to eat slowly.

The two of them fed the child first, and Lin Yunling did the same. However, Yuanyuan was older and could eat by himself, so she just kept an eye on him without needing to hand-feed him. Yuanyuan wanted to eat cured meat rice instead of buns, so Yu Xiang’an also served him a bowl. Lin Yining wanted to eat buns, so Lin Yunling gave her two, and everyone exchanged food.

They had prepared fine grains for the journey, thinking that the trip would be long and arduous, so they brought better-quality food. They feared that eating poorly would weaken their bodies, and falling ill would be troublesome.

When Lan Wangshan returned and saw their food, he was surprised. It was all fine grains. He glanced at the noodles in his own bowl, topped with two slices of meat—his own meals weren’t bad either.

After eating, it was time to wash the dishes. Lin Chuanbai collected the bowls and said, “I’ll go wash these alone. It’s crowded over there, so no need to squeeze in. I’ll bring back some hot water when I return.” He took everyone’s bowls with him.

Lan Wangshan: “…”

Well, that was fast. He felt a bit embarrassed—even his bowl had been taken.

Because of this, they quickly became familiar with each other. When traveling, having more friends certainly made things easier.

The space in the sleeper berth was limited, and of course, it wasn’t comfortable. But no matter how uncomfortable, they had to endure it—especially when comparing it to standing or sitting tickets. Having a place to sleep was already a luxury.

Conditions at this time were like this. In later years, for such a distance, one could just buy a plane ticket and arrive after a nap. But now, they had to spend half a month eating, sleeping, and living in this single train carriage.

After finishing the food they brought, they had to buy train meals, which didn’t taste great but weren’t terrible either. One advantage was that some meat dishes here didn’t require meat coupons.

They didn’t skimp on themselves during the trip. Whenever they saw something tasty, they bought it. Everyone had a salary, so there was no need to deprive themselves while traveling.

One or two days were manageable, but after several days on the train, life became undeniably monotonous.

Starting from the third day, they grew visibly restless, confined to such a small space. They had to find ways to occupy themselves.

Yu Xiang’an and Lin Chuanbai had brought some children’s books, cards, and blank paper and pens. They entertained the kids by telling stories or making them up on the spot, keeping them busy to avoid tantrums. When the children fell asleep, they wrote or sketched plans on paper.

This was actually a great time to do many things, like buying and reselling goods. But they couldn’t.

Over the past three years, the couple had kept their secret of owning a farm/herb garden well hidden. At home, they never entered that space—only at the food factory or hospital would they find a secluded spot to manage it.

Yu Xiang’an’s warehouse still hadn’t reached its capacity limit. She would take notes and clear out batches when traveling to the city for work. Her wallet was now very full—several thousand yuan, a fortune at the time.

Now they had time, but it wasn’t appropriate—really not appropriate. Lin Houpu’s life hung in the balance over there. How could they go off to do business?

So they scribbled on paper, and only they understood what they were doing.

They also asked Lan Wangshan many questions about Tongcheng.

Tongcheng wasn’t as big as Qincheng, but it had a steel factory. Lan Wangshan was there for that very reason.

This wasn’t his first business trip, so he knew the area well. When Lin Chuanbai and the others asked, everyone listened carefully.

The only places they could walk to were the restroom, the dining car, and, if the train stopped long enough at a station, they could take turns stepping out for fresh air.

There was no place to bathe, so they could only wipe themselves down with a damp towel. Their compartment had fewer people, so the smell wasn’t too bad, but not bathing still left them feeling uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Lan Wangshan was a talkative companion. He shared many local customs and got along well with Lin Duzhong. Having someone to talk to kept Lin Duzhong from dwelling too much on Lin Houpu’s condition, which would have been unbearable.

Otherwise, constantly worrying about Lin Houpu’s situation could easily make an older person fall ill. In the end, they even exchanged addresses, agreeing to keep in touch by mail.

After enduring these days, they finally arrived—only two hours late, which was relatively smooth.

No one suffered from travel sickness or other discomforts along the way. To prevent such issues, Yu Xiang’an had added a bit of spiritual spring water to their drinking water as an extra safeguard.

Upon arrival, they immediately asked for directions to the best hospital in the area.

The group was travel-worn, their faces haggard, and they carried an unpleasant odor. But no one suggested stopping at a guesthouse to freshen up first. Missing the chance to see someone for the last time would be a lifelong regret.

At the hospital, after giving their names, the front desk checked their introduction letters and documents before explaining the situation.

“You’ve finally arrived. Director Lin is currently in the intensive care unit on the third floor. He hasn’t fully recovered yet. He’s been resuscitated three times and survived with incredible willpower. Though he’s not completely out of danger, if he continues like this, he’ll soon be moved out of the ICU. Director Lin is truly remarkable.”

The nurse spoke of Director Lin with admiration, so she treated his family kindly.

Hearing this, Lin Duzhong perked up, shedding his earlier exhaustion. He walked so briskly that even the younger ones struggled to keep up.

“So he’s improving? That’s wonderful. Who’s taking care of him now?”

“We have two dedicated nurses attending to him. Follow me. Your belongings…” She pointed to a storage room. “You can leave your luggage here first. Carrying it around would be inconvenient.”

“That’s great, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Come with me—I’ll take you there.”

Led by the nurse, they reached the third floor, where two uniformed young men stood guard. Seeing them approach, the guards raised their hands to stop them. After verifying their introduction letters and work permits, they called Li Yujiao out.

Li Yujiao smiled upon seeing them. “Dad, you’re here.”

Only after she confirmed their identities did the guards let them pass.

The nurse whispered, “Keep quiet inside, and don’t get too close. Just observe quietly.” He still needed rest.

Once inside, they saw him lying on the bed, surrounded by expensive medical equipment for that era. His face was pale, an oxygen tube in his nose, thick bandages wrapped around his abdomen and arm. A nurse stood on either side of him.

“What happened? They said it was an accident. What exactly occurred? How did he end up like this?” Lin Duzhong had braced himself, but the sight still shook him. His voice trembled as he asked Li Yujiao.

Li Yujiao’s nose stung. “Dad, he was in a meeting with several leaders when someone tried to assassinate them. Lao Lin, being ex-military and the most skilled, shielded the leaders. But he was shot in the abdomen and left arm. The arm wound was manageable—the doctors treated it. But the abdominal injury damaged his organs. The doctors issued critical condition notices several times, but he pulled through. Now they say he’s not entirely out of danger yet.”

Li Yujiao looked truly exhausted.

She had stayed by Lin Houpu’s side for as long as he had been hospitalized. Her skin was pale, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips chapped, and dark circles hung heavily under her eyes. Yet, her weariness didn’t diminish her beauty—instead, it added a melancholic, delicate charm.

Yu Xiang’an had seen photos and knew she was beautiful, but seeing her in person still made her pause.

No wonder Lin Houpu’s children had mixed feelings about him. With a stepmother this young and attractive, it was impossible not to have reservations.

She also studied her father-in-law on the bed. He resembled Lin Duzhong, with the square-jawed look that inspired trust—a prized feature at the time. But now, his eyes were tightly shut, devoid of their usual authority, leaving him looking frail.

It was hard not to fear that his next breath might be his last.

A nurse in the room spoke softly, “He sleeps most of the time now. He woke up this morning, so it’ll likely be a while before he rouses again. After seeing him, please step out. Too many people will disturb his rest.”

“Of course, we’ll leave.” Lin Duzhong led the way out.

One of the guards outside stepped forward. “We’ve arranged accommodations for you. Let me take you there. You must be exhausted—go wash up and rest. You can return to the hospital later.”

Lin Duzhong nodded and turned to Li Yujiao, who had followed them out. “Eldest daughter-in-law, stay here and keep watch. I’ll rest first and come back later.”

What exactly had happened? Why was there an assassination attempt? He would get to the bottom of it—but now, with so many people around, wasn’t the time to ask.