Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

Wen Yan suddenly realized:

He gives strength to the desperate so that they may fight in the light for him, so that they may offer their lives as a sacrifice.

But what those desperate people gave him in return was more than just vitality.

And their will.

Chen Guohua's "fatherly love", Xu Suyuan's "bond", Han Xiao's "protection", and Li Rui's "judgment".

These things, with each life's return, are gradually seeping into his soul.

He was not one of the witnesses and would not be consumed by the fire.

But he will get infected.

I was touched by the purest things in the hearts of those who were in despair.

What those desperate people paid with their lives for should not be just a brief act of revenge.

Their sacrifice should leave something behind.

Wen Yan couldn't do what they did, standing on the front lines and fighting the darkness head-on—that wasn't his path, nor was it a price this broken body could bear.

But he can do more.

It's not just about sowing seeds, nor is it just about being a bystander.

Now he thinks that perhaps he can take another step forward—when necessary, give those who are struggling some information, some guidance, and something to help them avoid detours.

Of course, it cannot appear directly.

No trace should be left.

It's not for any grand ideal.

It was simply to do justice to those desperate people who gave their lives for him.

And also—be true to your conscience.

The light outside the window had dimmed a little at some point.

Wen Yan slowly pulled himself out of his thoughts, and just then—

The sound of a key turning came from outside the door.

Wen Yan immediately composed himself, and the cold, desolate aura emanating from the depths of his soul vanished instantly.

He reverted to being the sickly younger brother.

"Xiao Yan, I'm back."

The door opened, and Wen Liang walked in carrying two bulging shopping bags.

She is 26 years old and works for a local company.

After her parents passed away unexpectedly three years ago, she became the sole breadwinner of the family.

Caring for a younger brother with congenital heart disease meant she had to give up so much—

The opportunity to take the postgraduate entrance exam, a better job in another city, or even a normal romantic relationship.

But she never complained.

"You, how did you get up?" Wen Liang put down her shopping bags, quickly walked over, reached out to support Wen Yan's arm, looked him up and down, her voice full of surprise, "You really got up? How do you feel? Is anything bothering you?"

"I suddenly feel a little better," Wen Yan said. "I have a bit more energy than yesterday."

"Okay...okay!" Wen Liang's eyes reddened slightly, but she smiled happily. "It's good that you can stand up. Take it slow, no rush."

She helped Wen Yan sit down on the edge of the bed before turning around to pack her shopping bags.

"I bought you pork ribs; we'll make soup later. And this too—"

She took a lunchbox out of the bag and handed it to Wen Yan.

"I bought a red bean cake. Try it, it's not sweet, you should be able to eat it."

Wen Yan took the lunchbox, feeling the warmth from his palm.

This is my older sister; she's like a mother.

I will always remember him.

He opened his lunchbox, picked up a piece of red bean cake, and put it in his mouth.

It's not too sweet, and the texture is just right – soft and chewy.

"tasty."

Wen Liang smiled, her eyes crinkling, and sat on a small stool by the bed, starting to peel an apple.

She was very skillful; she peeled the apple peel so thinly and long, without stopping from one end to the other.

Wenliang is always like this; she's willing to tell him even the smallest, most trivial things she's seen or heard.

She was afraid that he would stay at home for too long and become out of touch with the world.

"Oh, by the way, something interesting happened yesterday," Wen Liang said while peeling vegetables. "When I was leaving get off work, I saw someone."

Who is it?

"One of my former teachers." Wen Liang cut the peeled apple into small pieces and put them on a plate. "My junior high school Chinese teacher, surnamed Meng. Later, he was transferred to the provincial capital, and I haven't seen him for many years."

"You can still recognize it?" Wen Yan asked casually.

"He's changed a lot," Wen Liang recalled. "He's lost a lot of weight, wears black-rimmed glasses, and a dark gray trench coat. If it weren't for the way he walks—he always walks very fast, like he's rushing to do something—I wouldn't have recognized him."

She handed him the apple: "When he was teaching us, his favorite saying was: 'A person can bend over temporarily, but cannot live on their knees.' At that time, we didn't understand and thought he was too old-fashioned. Later, when we started working, we realized that he was teaching us to have backbone."

"There's one more thing," Wen Liang paused, "'If you believe something is right, you must persist in doing it. Even if everyone says you're wrong, even if you end up with nothing.' At the time, I thought he was too idealistic, but now that I think about it..."

She didn't finish her sentence; she just smiled.

Wen Yan took the apple and nodded gently: "She really is a good teacher."

Wen Yan remained outwardly calm, but a subtle ripple stirred within him—

It is Meng Zhaowen.

It is precisely because of this kind of person that they would say such things and actually do such things.

Then, he encountered those things: being falsely accused, being sent to a mental hospital, and seven years of evidence turning to dust overnight.

Even when pushed to the brink, he never regretted what he had insisted on.

That indomitable will burned into an invisible fire in the abyss of despair.

Wen Yan saw the ball of fire in the void.

So he lowered his gaze and tossed a bright blue seed into the flame.

Now, that seed has taken root deep in his soul.

"I was going to say hello," Wen Liang continued, "but he walked so fast that I barely blinked before he turned into the alley and disappeared. I didn't even have time to call out to him."

She shook her head, a hint of regret in her voice: "Never mind, they're probably here on a business trip, it's normal for them to be busy."

Wen Yan didn't speak.

But he was thinking about something else entirely—

My sister remembers Teacher Meng's words so clearly: "If you believe something is right, you must persist in doing it."

And that's exactly what she's been doing all these years.

She silently supported the family and never thought of giving up on herself, a burden.

Perhaps she herself did not realize that the seed planted by that Chinese teacher back then had already taken root and sprouted in her heart.

Having a good teacher when you're young can truly shape your life.

Some things, when I heard them, just seemed reasonable.

Later, as I walked on, I realized that those words had become the path beneath my feet.

"Xiao Yan," Wen Liang suddenly spoke.

"Um?"

"You'll get better," Wen Liang said softly but earnestly. "You'll definitely get better. Don't give up. I'm with you."

Wen Yan suddenly felt a burning sensation in his chest.

That wasn't a lesion in the heart; it was something warmer.

The woman in front of me has been doing this all by herself for the past three years—caring for her sickly younger brother and supporting this broken family.

And what about yourself?

Having transmigrated for just over a month, what I inherited was not only this broken body, but also a heavy sense of indebtedness.

What he owed her wasn't the debt of his body, but the debt of a person's heart to another.

"sister."

"Um?"

"Thanks."

Wen Liang paused for a moment, then smiled.

That smile was warmer than the sunlight outside the window.

"Silly little brother, what are you saying?"

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Thanks to the amazing "Major" for the certification!

Thanks to the amazing "Garlic Vermicelli Shrimp" for the certification!