The air in the village committee courtyard seemed to have frozen.
After Liu Guifang and her son were taken away, the oppressive arrogance hanging over everyone dissipated with them, replaced by an even heavier, deathly silence.
Su Mingfeng stood beside the jeep with Nuannuan in his arms, without getting in right away. His gaze fell on his third brother, Su Mingzhe.
At that moment, Su Mingzhe was crouching on the ground, the army-green mailbag found in the woodpile lying before him.
Years of damp had left the bag's canvas stiff and blackened, with dried, dark-brown bloodstains still clinging to it. Its brass clasp had long since rusted shut.
A soldier handed him a dagger.
Su Mingzhe put on white gloves, took the dagger, and carefully cut through the stitching along the bag's seam, inch by inch.
His movements were slow and steady, as though he were performing a delicate surgical procedure.
The soldiers around him spontaneously formed a circle, protecting him in the middle and blocking the villagers' prying eyes.
Resting against her uncle's shoulder, Nuannuan watched curiously too.
She knew there were things belonging to Mommy inside that green bag.
At last, the mailbag was fully opened.
A mingled odor of mold, earth, and something rotten wafted into their faces.
Su Mingzhe's brow furrowed.
He reached inside and took out a stack of letters wrapped in oilpaper, the same ones discovered earlier, one of which was addressed to "Green Pine." He carefully set the stack on a clean military groundsheet beside him.
Then he continued reaching inside.
His hand stopped.
From the very bottom of the mailbag, he pulled out an item.
It was a neatly folded piece of baby clothing, seemingly a little padded jacket, but it had rotted so badly that its original color was no longer discernible. All that could be seen were clumps of gray-black cotton spilling out through the holes.
The garment was covered in dirt and bore signs of having been gnawed by rats, with several large holes in it.
Su Mingzhe spread out the tattered little garment, letting everyone see it clearly.
Though it was almost unrecognizable, they could still faintly make out the character "Nuan," crookedly embroidered in red silk thread.
Su Mingfeng's breathing stopped at that moment.
His gaze was fixed on the torn garment, his body as rigid as a statue.
Su Mingzhe did not stop. He continued taking things out of the mailbag.
A tin of powdered milk, mottled with rust, with some spots even rusted clean through. When the tin was shaken, a rustling sound came from inside, but what leaked out through the holes was black, clumped powder.
A little plastic duck toy, its body covered in teeth marks and one eye missing, looking ugly and pitiful.
Last came a tiny pair of tiger-head shoes, completely blackened and hardened.
The shoes were only palm-sized, with the tigers' eyes and whiskers embroidered in gold thread on the uppers. The workmanship was hardly fine, and some of the stitches were even rather rough, but it was clear that whoever had made them must have poured all their heart into them.
When Su Mingzhe picked up that pair of tiger-head shoes, Su Mingfeng swayed abruptly.
He recognized those shoes.
His younger sister, Su Mingyue, had sewn them herself, stitch by stitch, when she was pregnant five years ago.
He remembered it perfectly. His sister's belly had already been very large then, making it difficult for her to move, so she spent her days sitting in the wicker chair in the courtyard, wearing reading glasses and clumsily learning needlework. She had pricked her fingers several times, grimacing in pain, yet a happy smile had remained on her face throughout.
She had said, "Look, Brother, I made these tiger-head shoes for my little Nuannuan. Once she's born, she'll be able to run around in her new shoes!"
The sunlight back then had been so warm.
The laughter back then had been so clear.
But now...
Su Mingfeng reached out, his hand trembling violently in midair.
He took the cold, stiff, musty-smelling tiger-head shoes from Su Mingzhe.
The shoes were so small, so insignificant in his palm.
Yet this tiny pair of shoes weighed like a crushing burden, pressing down on him until he could barely breathe.
He slowly lifted his head, his gaze passing over the crowd and settling a short distance away.
His niece, the child who should have grown up wearing these tiger-head shoes and a warm little padded jacket, drinking sweet powdered milk and playing with the little duck, was now wearing a shabby red padded jacket that clearly did not fit. Her little face was white with cold, and her small hands were covered in chilblains.
Yet the warmth and love that should have belonged to her had rotted inside this filthy mailbag for five whole years.
An indescribable surge of heartache, remorse, and towering rage erupted from Su Mingfeng's chest like a volcano.
His grip on the tiger-head shoes tightened and tightened, his knuckles turning a frightening white from the force.
The hard soles dug deep into his palms, bringing a sharp, stabbing pain.
But how could that pain compare to even a ten-thousandth of what he felt in his heart?
"Aah-"
He tipped his head back and let out a low roar of utter repression, like a wounded beast.
There was so much contained in that low roar.
There was longing for his sister, blame for himself, hatred for the murderer, and, more than anything, boundless fury at this indifferent world.
All the soldiers around him lowered their heads, not daring to look at their commanding officer's expression.
They could feel it: a rage fierce enough to burn everything to ashes.
Nuannuan, resting against Su Mingfeng's shoulder, was startled by her uncle's sudden reaction.
She gently patted his back with her little hand and whispered, "Uncle, don't be angry... don't be angry..."
She was still too young to understand all the complicated grievances, love, and hatred involved.
She merely felt a deep sadness coming from those rotting, ruined belongings.
That was... Mommy's scent.
Though it was very, very faint now, she could smell it.
The snow leopard, Big Kitty, who had been crouching quietly beside the jeep, seemed to sense his little owner's shifting emotions and the sadness emanating from Su Mingfeng too.
He rose and walked soundlessly over to the pile of ruined belongings.
He did not touch them, merely lowered his noble head and sniffed gently.
Then he slowly lay down, sheltering the pile of belongings beneath his enormous body, his long, fluffy tail gently curling around the blackened tiger-head shoes.
He lifted his golden eyes and quietly watched Nuannuan, a low purr rumbling in his throat.
It seemed like comfort, and also like protection.
In his own way, he was guarding, for his little owner, this mother's love that had arrived five years late, already tattered beyond repair.
At the sight, Su Mingzhe's eyes reddened too.
He stood and patted his eldest brother's shoulder, his voice hoarse. "Brother, it's all in the past."
Su Mingfeng said nothing.
He simply held Nuannuan tighter, as though he wanted to press this lost and recovered treasure into his very flesh and bones.
He knew it was not in the past.
For those who had made his sister and his niece endure all this suffering, the reckoning had only just begun.