My heart didn't feel anything in particular either.

It was just news.

She lived.

When I got home that evening, Grandma C had already prepared dinner.

A bowl of braised pork ribs, a plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and an egg drop soup.

I sat down to eat, only speaking halfway through the meal.

"Grandma, she had the surgery. A donor was matched."

Grandma C picked up a piece of rib and put it in my bowl. "She lived?"

"She lived."

"That’s good."

"Good? What's good about it?"

"Living is good. No matter who it is, living is always better than dying."

I chewed on the rib, saying nothing.

"Are you feeling relieved?"

"No."

"You are." Grandma C looked at me. "You’re relieved because you no longer have to face the possibility that 'she died because of you'."

I put down my chopsticks.

"Grandma, I really don't. I’ve never felt her death had anything to do with me."

"You're right, it has nothing to do with you. But you are a kind child. Kind people can't just be completely indifferent."

I picked up the egg drop soup and took a sip.

"That 50,000 yuan—you were the one who had it paid anonymously, weren't you?" Grandma C suddenly said.

I choked slightly.

"How did you know?"

"Did you think I was senile just because I'm old? That girl, Lu, has a loose tongue; she told me."

"I told her it was anonymous—"

"She told me, not someone else. I don't count as 'someone else', do I?"

I sighed.

Grandma C smiled and patted the back of my hand.

"Nora, you did the right thing. Not because she deserved it, but because you deserve it. You deserve to be someone with a clear conscience."

I lowered my head and shoveled rice into my mouth.

After dinner, I washed the dishes and stood on the balcony for a while.

The night view of the city spread out before me, the lights dense and countless.

My phone rang; it was Cole.

"Did you hear?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel?"

"I don't feel anything."

"Liar."

"...I’m relieved. Are you happy now?"

He laughed on the other end of the line.

"Nora."

"Yeah?"

"Is it over now?"

I thought about it.

"Just about."

"Then what about that meal I owe you?"

"When did you ever owe me a meal? You eat at my shop every day."

"I told you, it’s a different kind of meal."

I leaned against the balcony railing, the wind blowing from high above.

"Saturday night."

"Okay. I’ll come pick you up."

After hanging up, I stared at the phone screen for a while.

My own face was reflected on the screen.

Not beautiful, not stunning.

But sturdy.

It was a face that could withstand whatever came its way.

Chapter 26

Zhao Meifen’s post-operative recovery was slower than expected.

Three months passed, and she was still in the hospital.

The costs for anti-rejection medication were high, and because of her poor baseline health, one complication followed another.

The medical bills continued to climb.

Gary disappeared.

Completely disappeared.

Ever since the court ruled on the property recovery and the bank’s debt collection letters reached him, he hadn't appeared in this city again.

Some said he returned to his rural hometown, while others said he went south to work.

No one cared.

Lucy had been working at the provincial branch of Nora’s Kitchen for two months, promoted from a vegetable washer to a prep cook.

Her culinary skills weren't exactly great, but her attitude was sincere, and she never slacked off. Aze’s assessment of her changed from "can't do the job" to "she’s passable."

One night after closing, she was mopping the floor in the back kitchen as I walked out of the office.

"Jiang Nora," she called to me.

"Yeah."

"Do you know about my mother’s condition?"

"I do."

"She... she’s been asking for you since the surgery. The nurses say she calls your name in the middle of the night sometimes."

I stopped in my tracks.

"She’s not calling for me. She’s calling for the person who can solve her problems."

"No," Lucy put down the mop and looked at me earnestly.

"When she was conscious last time, she said something to me."

"What did she say?"

"She said, 'Lucy, your sister loved my sweet and sour pork ribs when she was little. Ask her if she still likes them.'"

I stood in the corridor, the light shining brightly on the floor.

Sweet and sour pork ribs.

I didn't even remember her ever making sweet and sour pork ribs.

All I remembered were the rolling pin, the fire tongs, the storage room, and that steamed bun.

"I don't like them," I said.

Lucy didn't say anything more.

I walked a few steps, then turned back.

"But you can tell her that one of the dishes at my shop is sweet and sour pork ribs, based on a recipe I developed myself. It tastes better than hers."

I didn't go back to the hospital.

It wasn't because I didn't dare, but because it was no longer necessary.

What needed to be said had been said, what needed to be recovered had been recovered, and the relationships that needed to be severed were mostly gone.

The 348,000 yuan Beth owed me was being enforced by the court, with 2,000 deducted from her pension every month.

At this rate, it would take fourteen years to pay off.

But that wasn't important.

What was important was that the court order was there in black and white.

Gary’s 300,000 yuan bank debt hung around his neck like a millstone; the bank had listed him as a dishonest debtor.

He couldn't buy high-speed train tickets, couldn't fly, couldn't open a company.

He would wear the label of a "deadbeat" for the rest of his life.

My second uncle, Zhao Jianguo, saw his 150,000 yuan kickback go down the drain after Zhou Dafu’s demolition project fell through—the military compound had been listed as a protected historical area and would not be demolished for the time being.

Zhou Dafu came looking for his money, but he couldn't pay.

He finally had to transfer his small supermarket in town just to settle the debt.

A man who tried to profit from a martyr’s legacy ended up losing everything he had.

Auntie Liu also quieted down.

Ever since the whole truth was exposed, she never called to blame me again.

Once, I ran into her on the street; she saw me from afar and took a detour to avoid me.

Everyone who came looking for me to preach "filial piety" had scattered one by one.

No one dared to stand on the moral high ground and point at me, saying, "That’s your birth mother."

Because everyone knew—

What my birth mother had done.

What my stepfather had done.

What my relatives had done.

And what I—a child who had been beaten for six years—had done.

I survived.

I opened six shops, built a central kitchen, and secured 15 million in financing.

I opened a breakfast shop next to my father’s old apartment and provided free soy milk and fried dough sticks to elderly military family members every morning.

Among the seniors who came for breakfast, there was an eighty-year-old lady who had been my father’s next-door neighbor.

Every time she saw me, she would say the same thing.

"Nora has grown up; she looks exactly like your father."

Chapter 27

On the third anniversary of Nora’s Kitchen, I didn't hold a celebration.

I cooked a table of dishes at the very first shop—the tiny place in the old town alley with only six tables.

I didn't invite many people.

Grandma C, Lu, Aze, Liu Tiezhu, and the three old comrades Liu brought along.

Plus Cole.

Eight people in total.

I cooked the dishes myself.

Braised lion's head meatballs, steamed sea bass, dry-fried green beans, peppercorn chicken, and an old duck soup with wild mushrooms. For dessert, I added one final dish—glutinous rice stuffed with lotus root and osmanthus syrup.

These were all skills taught to me by Grandma C, modified by my own hand.

Liu Tiezhu ate until he was drenched in sweat, repeating the word "good" three times.

"Nora, with skills like these, you could host a state banquet."

"Uncle Liu, stop flattering me. Grandma C is the one at the state banquet level."

Grandma C sat at the head of the table, her face wrinkled with smiles. "I’m old; I can’t do it anymore. Now it’s your turn."

Halfway through the meal, Liu Tiezhu stood up and pulled something from his bag.

It was a military merit medal.

"This is your father’s Third Class Merit medal. It has been kept in the unit’s honors room since it was issued back then. I applied to the authorities to hand it over to you."

He placed the medal in front of me.

It was a circular copper medal; the front featured a five-pointed star and wheat ears.