Chapter Twenty-Nine: Zhou Hao's Purpose

"Sorry, I was walking too fast. Are you alright?" Zhou Hao was used to marching briskly in the army. As he walked, his thoughts wandered, and he hadn’t noticed that he had bumped into someone.

No sooner had he spoken than he heard the other person grumble, “Why is it you again?” The words made Zhou Hao take a closer look—sure enough, it was the same young woman he had run into the last time.

“Well, what a coincidence. Bumping into you again,” Zhou Hao grinned. He’d been fretting over how to find an excuse to see Chen Xin, and here she appeared right in front of him.

“Just my luck. Alright, enough, please let me through. I need to buy something.” If she delayed any longer, her chubby son would wake up. Chen Xin couldn’t spare more words with him; she skirted around and jogged toward the corner of the street.

Normally, she prepared breakfast for Zhang Zhang herself, but they had run out of rice the night before, and the nearby grain and oil shops were already closed. She had no choice but to go early in the morning to buy porridge and bean buns from Aunt Fatty’s stall.

Next door to Aunt Fatty’s was a grain and oil shop run by her younger uncle, who was known to be a decent man. Chen Xin planned to ask him to deliver some rice, flour, and oil to her house.

After a few steps, Chen Xin turned and found the man who had bumped into her still following behind.

“What do you want?” Chen Xin stepped back, eyeing him warily.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m a newly assigned officer with the military district. I’m here to understand your situation,” he said, stepping back as well and pulling out his credentials from his pocket.

Just then, two male classmates happened to walk by. Noticing Chen Xin’s guarded stance, they stopped. When the officer produced his ID, the taller of the two cautioned Chen Xin not to approach and took the document himself for inspection before handing it to her.

Chen Xin had seen officer IDs before, but even if this one was a fake, she wouldn’t be able to tell. Still, she could consult Officer Jiang.

By this time, Officer Jiang was already at work. When he received Chen Xin’s call, he checked the identification number and name on the officer’s credentials and assured her with a smile, “He’s one of ours—a new officer assigned to verify the files and register military martyrs’ families. He must have come to you directly from the archives. You can trust him.”

Of course, Officer Jiang added that if she didn’t want to meet privately, she could arrange to visit the military district for registration and photographs. This was a verification stage ahead of the new benefits policy for military martyrs’ families, and it was best to complete it early to ensure Zhang Zhang’s living allowance would be processed sooner.

With Officer Jiang’s assurance, Chen Xin let down half her guard, though she remained cautious. She had met this man once before, and he hadn’t introduced himself then. Now here he was, seeking her out specifically. She doubted he had come just for the registration.

She quickly bought breakfast, hesitated, but still allowed the man to follow her into the house, though her wariness kept her from closing the door.

Inside, she set the breakfast on the table in the courtyard, invited Zhou Hao to sit, then hurried into the house. Sure enough, Zhang Zhang was already awake, sweater on, snuggled under the quilt and playing with his tangram puzzle.

His cotton coat was too thick, making him look a bit chubby, and he couldn’t manage to put on his own winter trousers and jacket. Once Chen Xin dressed him properly, he ran out into the yard, eager for breakfast, only to find Zhou Hao sitting there. The little boy leaned on the threshold, peering at the stranger.

“Are you Zhang Zhang?”

“Uncle, how do you know my name? I’ve never met you.”

Zhang Zhang wasn’t exactly outgoing, but neither was he shy. Since they were at his home, he greeted Zhou Hao with confidence.

Chen Xin brought out hot water for him to brush his teeth and wash his face, dabbed on some scented cream, and finally planted a kiss on each cheek before letting him sit for breakfast.

The porridge, still warm in a thermos, was ready. While Chen Xin washed Zhang Zhang’s face, Zhou Hao quickly ladled the porridge into a bowl and placed the bean bun on a small plate.

Zhang Zhang’s meals were always in a specially made bamboo chair with a woven tray in front. Once he was seated, Chen Xin snapped the custom-made tray in place, creating a little table. He sat with his bowls and wooden spoon, eating on his own, and even if he made a mess, it was no trouble.

Zhang Zhang had a natural love of cleanliness and ate very carefully, trying not to dirty himself. If his hand shook and some spilled onto the table, he would gently wipe it up with his little handkerchief.

“He’s a fine little guy, with excellent habits,” Zhou Hao observed, turning to Chen Xin with a smile. “I was worried you’d be harried, raising a child alone, but it seems I was overthinking it.”

Zhou Hao had already eaten before coming, so he simply watched aunt and nephew share their breakfast.

During this time, Zhou Hao explained his purpose for coming.

“The state wants to provide better support for the widows and children of military martyrs. Especially in cases like Zhang Zhang’s, where both parents are gone, there are additional subsidies beyond those from the government. Our military district has a dedicated fund specifically for orphans of military martyrs. If you don’t mind, I’d like to submit an application for Zhang Zhang.”

Zhou Hao had tried to get a sense of their situation during his last visit, but Chen Xin had been very guarded, thwarting his attempt. This time, he came openly. He didn’t believe Chen Xin would still treat him like a thief.

Chen Xin no longer suspected him of ill intent, but she wasn’t particularly fond of him either. Of course, she was grateful that he considered Zhang Zhang, but she didn’t want the boy to be labeled as pitiable. With an aunt like her, loving grandparents, uncles, and aunts, Zhang Zhang was anything but pitiful.

“As for the state subsidy, that’s something we should rightfully receive, so we’ll take it. But as for the fund you mentioned, I don’t think it’s necessary. I can provide for Zhang Zhang, and our family isn’t exactly struggling. That money should go to someone who needs it more.”

Chen Xin was unfamiliar with the workings of the military district, but in her impression, no military district had its own fund. It was more likely a foundation set up by an enterprise or organization for military martyrs’ families—essentially a charitable enterprise, not money provided directly by the military.

Zhou Hao wanted to say something more, but held back. He simply nodded and agreed to pass on her wishes. He had already learned a bit about Chen Xin and Zhang Zhang from his previous visits, and everyone he spoke to admired Chen Xin greatly. A university student, she had taken on the responsibility of raising her nephew, keeping her own life in order and even improving it—something many adults couldn’t accomplish.

Zhou Hao had done similar work at his previous post, visiting many families of military martyrs. Over half the widows had remarried and brought their children with them, but there were cases where children were left entirely in the care of the elderly parents of the deceased, or, even more distressingly, left alone with only the bare minimum of financial support.

He and his colleagues had no right to pass judgment—everyone has to live, and people choose what’s best for themselves. But such situations were heartbreaking. If not for the blood ties that kept these children from being sent to welfare institutions, they often thought that even that would be better than such lonely lives.