Transmigrated into a minor official in a county government, with children at home waiting for rice t

The man knelt on the ground, his hands supporting him. "Zhang Qianxing, I'm not here to spy on you. I just want to see... to see the two girls."

His voice trembled, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

Zhang Sanlang was taken aback upon hearing this and blurted out, "You're Lin Laogui?"

"Yes, I am Lin Laogui. I was released from prison camp and heard from the villagers that the two girls were in Chenjiazhuang. I went there to look for them the day before yesterday."

Lin Laogui's eyes reddened. "I inquired for a long time, and only after going to the orphanage did I hear from Madam Zhou of the village that the two girls had been adopted by Zhang Qianxing."

"I dared not go to their door rashly, I just wanted to see how the sisters were doing from afar. I followed them until I reached the alley entrance, but I didn't dare go in, yet I couldn't bear to leave them..."

Upon hearing this, Wu Yan quickly removed the short stick from Zhang Sanlang's shoulder, untied himself, stepped back a few paces, and crossed his arms to see how Zhang Sanlang would handle the situation.

The courtyard was quiet for a moment.

Zhang Sanlang looked at him and said, "Since you knew the two girls were here, why didn't you come and pick them up openly? What kind of nonsense is it to sneak around and follow them?"

Lin Laogui knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face. "Zhang Qianxing, it's not that I don't want to accept. I just dare not."

His voice was hoarse. "When I went to prison, Qiao'er was only eight years old. She might still remember a few things about me, but Xiu'er... Xiu'er was only three years old then. How could she possibly remember who her father was?"

"Besides, I never imagined my mother could be so heartless as to drive these two little girls out of the house in the dead of winter! Zhang Qianxing, I am unworthy to be their father!"

He lowered his head, his shoulders trembling for a long time. "I spent five years in the prison camp and was only released this year. I was transferred to a minor prison. My stipend was meager, barely enough to feed myself."

"If we really take those two girls away, how will we feed them? Should we send them to the mine with me? But that place is no place for humans; it's not much different from being a convict."

Lin Laogui looked up and carefully glanced at Zhang Sanlang's face, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Besides...besides, I have another crime to commit."

Zhang Sanlang's eyebrows twitched.

Lin Laogui lowered his head, his voice squeezed out from his throat, "A few days ago, I said some things I shouldn't have at the dockside tea stall. It was Liu, the jailer from the prison camp, who told me to say them."

"When I inquired about your address in the county town, I learned that Zhang Silang was your fourth brother. I felt ashamed and dared not visit you."

Zhang Sanlang remained calm and composed upon hearing this, showing no emotion.

He had told Lin Laogui about this matter before, and at the time he felt that the name Lin Laogui sounded familiar. Later, he remembered that Lao Zhao had mentioned this person, so he went back and asked Lin Qiao'er, and sure enough, his guess was confirmed.

Wu Yan, who was standing nearby, was so angry when he heard this that he threw the short stick to the ground.

With a clang, the short stick sprang up and then fell back down.

He held it in for a long time, then his stomach rumbled and he suddenly let out a loud fart.

The courtyard was quiet for a moment.

Wu Feng glanced at him but didn't say anything.

Zhang Sanlang cupped his hands in thanks to Wu Yan, "Second Brother Wu, thank you."

Wu Yan waved his hand, tucked the short stick back into his waistband, and said, "Why are you being so polite? Are you taking him away?"

Zhang Sanlang nodded, turned to look at Lin Laogui, and said, "Get up. Come with me."

Lin Laogui pushed himself up, his legs were a little weak, and he swayed. He lowered his head, not daring to look at Zhang Sanlang or anyone else in the courtyard.

Zhang Sanlang walked in front, with Lin Laogui following behind, a few steps behind.

The two entered the courtyard one after the other.

Zhang Sanlang pushed open the door, stood under the porch, and called out to the east room of the main house, "Qiao'er, Xiu'er, come out."

Lin Qiao'er came out, still holding a needle and thread in her hand. Lin Xiu'er followed behind her, her cheeks bulging with candied fruit.

Lin Laogui stood at the gate of the courtyard, his hands hanging at his sides, his fingers gripping the seams of his trousers.

When Lin Qiao'er saw him, she dropped the needle and thread in her hand.

She didn't speak, but stood under the eaves, staring intently at the man at the door who looked like a beggar.

Lin Xiuer saw it too, blinked twice, but looked somewhat bewildered.

Zhang Sanlang glanced at Lin Laogui. "Come on in, what are you doing standing at the door?"

Lin Laogui lifted his foot, took two steps, and then stopped. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he took another step. What should have been a few steps took him quite a while to walk.

"Qiao'er," he called softly, his voice hoarse as if it were being scraped from his throat.

Lin Qiao'er did not speak.

She looked up and examined his face.

After five years in prison, Lin Laogui had lost a lot of weight. His cheekbones were high, his eyes were sunken, and at less than forty years old, he had even started to get gray hair at his temples.

The short, gray cloth shorts were washed until they were faded, the cuffs were frayed, and there was a patch at the knee with crooked stitches; it was obvious that he had sewn it himself.

Lin Qiao'er's eyes reddened. "Father."

Lin Laogui squatted down and reached out his hand, wanting to touch her face, but pulled it back halfway. His fingers were rough and dark, with dirt stuck in his fingernails, and the back of his hand was covered with frostbite cracks.

Lin Qiao'er grabbed his hand and pressed it against her face. "Father, you're back."

Lin Laogui's lips trembled, unable to speak, tears streaming down his nose and dripping onto the ground.

Lin Xiuer peeked out from behind Lin Qiaoer and asked indistinctly, "Who is he?"

Lin Qiao'er pulled her younger sister out from behind, squatted down and wiped the sugar stains from the corner of her mouth. "He is our father. Xiu'er, be good, quickly call him father."

Lin Xiuer glanced at Lin Laogui, then at her sister, her lips moved, but she didn't say anything.

Lin Laogui squatted there, his hands on his knees, looking at Lin Xiuer.

Lin Xiuer looked at him, her eyes bright, as if she were recognizing someone she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Xiuer," Lin Laogui called out.

Lin Xiuer swallowed the candied fruit in her mouth, her lips moved slightly, and her voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz, "Father."

Lin Laogui wiped his hands on his clothes, then reached out and pulled Lin Xiuer into his arms, saying, "Hey! Hey!"

Lin Xiuer neither dodged nor cried; she simply let him hold her with her hands hanging at her sides, motionless.

Lin Qiao'er stood to the side, looking at her father and sister, and tears finally fell down her cheeks.

She didn't say anything, but kept wiping with her sleeve, but it wouldn't stop.

Zhang Sanlang stood under the eaves with his hands in his sleeves, watching this scene.

Old Sun squatted at the gatehouse entrance, his hand weaving a straw rope, which he had only half-finished before stopping. He glanced at it a few times, then lowered his head and continued weaving. The straw rope twisted and turned between his fingers, slower than usual.

Ah-Yun came out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot water and handed it to him, saying, "Uncle Lin, have some hot water."

Lin Laogui raised his head, glanced at Ayun, took the bowl, tilted his head back, and gulped it down.

Water spilled from the corner of his mouth, dripping down his chin and onto his clothes.

Zhang Sanlang walked over and pulled Lin Laogui up from the ground. "Come inside and sit down. It's freezing cold; don't stand in the yard."

Zhang Sanlang gestured with his chin toward the kitchen, "A-Yun, could you please cook a few more bowls of hot porridge?"

A crisp, clear voice came from the kitchen in response.