Searching for someone in northern Myanmar, and you call that earning tuition fees?

After staying at the military hospital for another twenty-three days, Su Ming finally received his discharge notice.

He changed out of the striped hospital gown and put back on his faded sweatshirt and jeans from a street vendor, feeling that the smell of disinfectant on him had finally been diluted by the familiar smell of everyday life.

Li Changfeng and Lao Zhao helped him complete all the formalities. As the three of them walked out of the inpatient building, a figure in a nurse's uniform chased after them from behind, panting.

"Su Ming!" The head nurse was carrying a clear plastic bag containing several strips of capsules and pills. "Your medicine! Three times a day, after meals, don't forget!"

Su Ming took the bag; it felt heavy in his hand. He glanced down at it and nodded, "Thank you."

The head nurse turned and walked away with a stern face, leaving behind only the curt words: "Don't come back again!"

Su Ming paused for half a second, then looked down at the medicine bag in his arms, his fingers tightening slightly on the plastic handle. When he looked up again, the head nurse was already far away.

His lips twitched, and he replied in a low voice, "As much as possible."

As Li Changfeng got into the black SUV with military license plates, he started the car and glanced at Su Ming in the rearview mirror.

"Back to school?"

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name 1110 ...

Su Ming leaned back in the seat, his gaze fixed on the rapidly receding street scene outside the window. After a few seconds of silence, he said softly, "Back to the orphanage."

Li Changfeng paused for a moment while holding the steering wheel, but didn't ask any more questions. He simply turned the car around steadily and merged into the traffic.

The car stopped in front of the slightly rusty iron gate of the Sunshine Welfare Home.

The car door opened, and Su Ming's feet were suspended in mid-air, but he didn't put them down for a long time.

He raised his head, his gaze fixed on the rusty iron gate and the dappled shadows of the old locust tree behind it. It was just a familiar courtyard gate, but at this moment it felt so heavy that he couldn't move his feet.

"Brother Su Ming!" The little girl playing hopscotch in the yard spotted him first and shouted at the top of her lungs.

Suddenly, several children gathered around.

A little girl with pigtails ran the fastest, grabbed Su Ming's leg, looked up at him, her clear eyes full of expectation: "Brother Su Ming, you've been away on business for so long! Did you bring back any candy this time?"

Su Ming froze.

sugar?

His mind uncontrollably flashed back to the mercenaries he had sent away from the mining area using various "means"—those were no good.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out of his throat. He could only reach out his hand, clumsily trying to touch the girl's head, but his fingertips froze in mid-air.

Old Zhao stepped forward, smiling, and stuffed a handful of change into the little girl's hand, his voice booming, "Go! Take your younger siblings to the convenience store! Your brother Su Ming handed over all the money he earned on this trip to the government; he didn't keep a single penny!"

The children cheered and scattered in a flurry.

Su Ming looked at Old Zhao, opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.

The kitchen door creaked open, and Dean Zhao came out wearing an apron and holding a spatula covered in flour.

She didn't ask where Su Ming had gone, nor why he had disappeared for so long. Instead, she used her eyes, which had long been accustomed to the hardships of life, to carefully examine him from head to toe.

After confirming that his arms and legs were still intact, only much thinner, Dean Zhao's eyes reddened slightly, but he quickly regained his usual gentle demeanor.

"You're back?" He wiped his hands with his apron, his voice tinged with amusement. "Hungry? I just finished cooking."

Su Ming was led into that familiar little canteen, where a steaming bowl of noodles was already laid out in his usual spot.

It wasn't anything fancy, just the most ordinary clear broth hand-pulled noodles, with a few bright green scallions floating on top, and two perfectly fried sunny-side-up eggs with runny yolks.

Su Ming picked up his chopsticks, his hands, which had once been as steady as a rock amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood, now trembled slightly. He lowered his head, picked up a large mouthful of noodles, and forcefully stuffed it into his mouth.

The familiar aroma of noodles, eggs, and scallion oil immediately filled my mouth.

He buried his head and wolfed down his food without saying a word, trying to swallow all the grievances and loneliness of the past twenty years with the bowl of noodles.

As I was eating, a hot tear unexpectedly slid down my cheek, splashed into the soup bowl, and created a small ripple.

Su Ming sniffed, his throat feeling a little congested. He looked up at Dean Zhao, who was silently watching him, his voice slightly hoarse.

"Dean, the noodles today... are a bit too salty?"

Dean Zhao smiled, extended his calloused yet incredibly warm hands, gently patted the back of his head, and chuckled, "You brat, that's your tears that fell in."

A little boy happened to be passing by carrying his small bowl. Hearing this, he curiously came over and asked, "Brother Su Ming, were you crying? My mom said that boys shouldn't cry."

Su Ming immediately lowered his head even further and retorted in a muffled voice, "I didn't cry, the noodles were too hot and they stung my eyes."

"Oh..." The little boy nodded as if he understood, then added, "But the noodles aren't steaming anymore."

"cough!"

Su Ming almost choked on a mouthful of noodle soup.

He quickly finished the last bite of noodles, drinking every last drop of soup, then stood up and, as he had done countless times before, carried the empty bowl to the kitchen sink.

In the courtyard, Li Changfeng and Lao Zhao stood side by side, quietly watching everything that was happening in the canteen through the window. They didn't go in, nor did they make a sound; they simply kept this heartwarming yet poignant scene in their hearts.

Looking at the slender figure diligently washing dishes in front of the sink, and then thinking of the lone wolf covered in blood and fighting against a hundred men in the mining area, the two turned their heads at the same time and smiled at each other.

That smile contained relief, heartache, and a sense of peace that came with a heavy burden.