Reborn in the 60s, I hunt to support my family and even seduce the village beauty.

Looking at the bag of cornmeal and then at Grandpa Hong's thin face, Chang Kun felt a stirring in his heart.

Grandpa Hong lives a frugal life. He lives alone and saves every penny he can on food, clothing, and other necessities. These four or five pounds of cornmeal represent how many days he has saved up.

"Uncle Hong, who is this old lady Zhou to you?" Chang Kun asked.

Grandpa Hong was silent for a while, then raised his head and looked into the distance. His gaze seemed to pass through the courtyard wall, through the street, and all the way to a very, very far place.

"She's nothing to me," Grandpa Hong said, his voice a little hoarse. "Her husband is my comrade-in-arms."

The courtyard quieted down; even Xiuer and Xiaoshui stopped making a fuss and stood quietly listening.

Grandpa Hong tugged at the empty right sleeve. The safety pin wasn't fastened securely, so he re-fastened it before slowly speaking.

"That year when we crossed the river, the enemy's shells were raining down like rain. I was young then, fearless, and I charged to the front. When a shell landed, several people around me were killed instantly. That's when I lost this arm."

He paused, looked at his empty sleeve, and said, "I'm lucky; at least I made it back alive. My two comrades next to me, one surnamed Zhou and the other surnamed Li, were killed by a bomb while trying to save me."

"The one surnamed Zhou is only twenty-one. He has an elderly mother at home and is his only son. The one surnamed Li has three children at home, the youngest of whom is only one year old and doesn't even remember what his father looks like."

Grandpa Hong paused here, picked up his water glass and took a sip, as if pressing something down. His fingers trembled slightly.

"After I came back from the army, I told myself that my life was saved by the two of them. Now that they are gone, I have to take care of their families."

"Every month after I get my salary, I keep enough for my own food and send the rest away. I send one to Aunt Zhou and one to Sister Li. I've never stopped doing this over the years."

After listening, Chang Kun remained silent for a long time.

He used to only feel sorry for Grandpa Hong, who lived alone, missing an arm, and struggling to make ends meet, but he never asked why.

Now I understand that Grandpa Hong wasn't short of money; he had sent all his money to the families of his comrades.

The government arranged a job for him, and the salary wasn't low, but he had to support three families on his own, so making ends meet was always a struggle.

"Uncle Hong, don't worry, I will definitely bring these things." Chang Kun carefully put the cloth bag and paper bag into his bag, and added, "Zhao Jia Gou, Old Mrs. Zhou, and Sister-in-law Li, I've remembered them all."

Grandpa Hong nodded, stood up, and walked out with his cane.

After taking a couple of steps, he turned back to look at Chang Kun, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just smiled and said, "Xiao Kun, thank you for your trouble."

"No trouble at all," Chang Kun quickly replied.

Grandpa Hong turned around and walked out of the courtyard step by step. His back was thin, and the empty sleeve on his right side swayed gently in the autumn wind, a sight that made one's heart ache.

The courtyard was quiet for a while.

Liu Meifen stood at the kitchen doorway, holding a bowl of vegetables in her hands, which she forgot to put down, her eyes red-rimmed.

Chang Dashan sat at the stone table, the cigarette in his hand half-burned, unaware that the ash had fallen onto the table.

At this time, the people who admired the most were not celebrities or internet influencers, nor were they tycoons or the richest people, but countless revolutionary fighters!

Xiao Shui stood to the side, tugging at Chang Kun's sleeve, tilting her head up, and asked softly, "Big brother, was Grandpa Hong's arm blown off by a bomb?"

Chang Kun nodded.

Xiao Shui lowered her head, looked at her toes, and after a long while, said, "Grandpa Hong is truly amazing."

Xiuer also came over, unusually quiet, standing quietly to the side, her little hands clutching the hem of her clothes, her eyes a little red.

Cheng Min walked over, took the bag from Chang Kun's hand, helped him put it away, and said softly, "When you leave tomorrow, take more things with you, and bring some more for Grandpa Hong."

Chang Kun glanced at her and nodded.

His heart felt heavy, as if something was pressing down on it, and he couldn't quite describe the feeling.

Grandpa Hong is a quiet person, and having lived next door for so many years, I've never heard him mention a word about the past.

If I hadn't asked him to bring me something today, I probably would never have said it in my life.

There is true kindness in the world.

Chang Kun sat at the stone table, lit a cigarette, and slowly smoked it.

The autumn wind dispersed the smoke, and he squinted at the persimmon tree in the yard. The leaves had begun to turn yellow, and a few drifted down, landing on the stone table and the chair that Grandpa Hong had just sat on.

After finishing his cigarette, he went inside and filled four or five bags with rice from his storage space, weighing over a hundred pounds.

They also packed several sacks of vegetables that are easy to store, such as radishes and cabbages.

These weren't sent by Grandpa Hong; they were his own token of appreciation.

Tomorrow I'm going to Tangshan. First, I'll find Grandma Zhou and Sister-in-law Li, deliver Grandpa Hong's things, and then bring this token of my appreciation.

This kind of thing is best done quietly; there's no need to make a fuss about it.

……

at the same time.

That evening, Ma Wencai knocked on Sima Bin's door.

Sima Bin lives in a small building in the railway section's family compound. It has upstairs and downstairs, and there is also a small courtyard in front of the door, which is more than twice as spacious as that of ordinary employees.

When Ma Wencai entered, Sima Bin was sitting on the sofa with a plate of peanuts and a glass of baijiu in front of him.

He was wearing a navy blue loungewear set, with the top two buttons undone, revealing his fair neck, a stark contrast to his upright and proper demeanor at work during the day.

"Brother-in-law," Ma Wencai called out.

Sima Bin glanced at him, but didn't stand up. He picked up his wine glass, took a sip, and gestured with his chin towards the person opposite him: "Sit."

Ma Wencai sat down, took off his glasses and wiped them; the crack on the lens was still there.

He opened his mouth several times, wanting to say something but swallowing it back. Finally, he picked up the wine bottle on the table, poured himself a glass, and downed it in one gulp before speaking.

"Brother-in-law, I was bullied at work today."

Sima Bin paused for a moment, his hand holding the peanuts paused, and he raised his eyelids slightly: "Speak."

Ma Wencai recounted what happened in the broadcasting room today, though of course, the details changed considerably when he told the story.

He didn't mention how he got handsy with Che Xiaorui, only saying that he was joking with the broadcaster when the woman named Che Xiaorui slapped him without saying a word.

Later, two patrolmen, one surnamed Chang and the other surnamed Hou, came and beat him up, breaking his glasses and causing his ribs to still hurt.

He spoke with tears streaming down his face, becoming increasingly aggrieved as he went on. Finally, he took off his glasses and placed them on the table, pointing to the red marks on his face for Sima Bin to see.

"Brother-in-law, look, the handprint hasn't faded yet."

I worked for you and got beaten up. If word got out, people wouldn't laugh at me, they'd laugh at you!