He almost didn’t recognize his own home. The charred old elm tree, the fire-blackened street walls, the collapsed courtyard, the air thick with sorrow—no dogs in sight, not a single pig, not even a chicken, as if he had walked into a deserted, overgrown wasteland. Henry Carter's legs went weak! Suddenly, his uncle’s words echoed in his mind: A day in the army, a thousand years in the world. Panic seized his heart, and he pounded desperately on the door: “Father! Mother! Open up, please open the door!”

Based on his experience in the army, Henry Carter could tell that this door hadn’t been opened for a very long time. He didn’t know what omen this concealed, and it made him anxious. Yet, standing before the door, he still deeply hoped that his parents had just gone out to work or to visit neighbors.

“Father, Father! Mother, Mother! I’m back, your son is back!” Henry Carter called out loudly again, hoping his shout could bring his parents back.

“Henry Carter bro, stop calling, uncle and aunt…” Brian Clark came running over, panting, and looked at the anxious Henry Carter, speaking in a low voice.

“What happened? What happened to my father and mother?” Henry Carter's heart skipped a beat. He grabbed Brian Clark and asked urgently.

Brian Clark weighed at least two hundred jin, a strong man even by country standards, yet the thin Henry Carter lifted him up in one go. “Henry Carter bro, let go, you’re going to strangle me!”

Brian Clark let out a pig-like squeal, his hands flailing as he tried to pry Henry Carter's grip from his collar. But his strength was no match for Henry Carter's; trying to break free was like a dragonfly shaking a pillar—completely useless.

After Brian Clark's desperate struggle, Henry Carter finally let go, his voice trembling as he asked, “Brian Clark, tell me, what happened to my father and mother?”

“Henry Carter bro, in the second year after you went to war, news came that you had died in the great battle at Huyang Pass. When she heard this, aunt fainted on the spot, and uncle’s health declined day by day. In less than two months, both of them passed away.” Brian Clark dared not hide anything anymore and told him everything in a low voice.

“Boom!”

Brian Clark's words struck Henry Carter's heart like a bolt from the blue. Three years—his parents, whom he had longed for day and night, were gone! From now on, separated by life and death, he would never see them again!

In the silence, the dust-covered door slowly opened.

It was as if he was walking back against the flow of time. As a child, he didn’t understand; his hungry eyes only stared at his own bowl, while his father, who had to do heavy labor, would always sneak into the kitchen to drink thin porridge, and when truly exhausted, take a couple of sips of cheap liquor; his mother’s bowl always held a clear soup so transparent you could see your reflection, yet she never forgot to stick a few jujube buns in the pot for him… Every bit of his parents’ love was stored in his heart, like pearls hidden in a shell.

On the dusty kang table, a dark gourd sat conspicuously—that was his father’s wine gourd. It wasn’t big, easily held in one hand, small and exquisite, very endearing. When he was little, Henry Carter's favorite thing was his father’s wine gourd. Now, the gourd remained, but his father could never be seen again. Stroking the small, dark gourd, Henry Carter's heart ached.

Now, he had returned, but his beloved father and mother were gone forever. The tree wishes for stillness but the wind will not cease; the son wishes to care for his parents, but they are no longer there!

“Henry Carter bro, you must take care of yourself. Though uncle and aunt are gone, if they knew in the afterlife, they would surely be happy that you made it back alive!” Brian Clark mumbled for a long while before finally squeezing out a few words of comfort.

“I understand, Brian Clark. Thank you for looking after my father and mother while I was away. I’m fine now, you go ahead and take care of your business.” In his grief, Henry Carter calmed down, patted Brian Clark's hand, and spoke softly.

Brian Clark didn’t know what else to say, only stammered, “Henry Carter bro, come eat at my house later, my mother made a good meal and is waiting for you.”

After a few steps, Brian Clark seemed to remember something, glanced at Henry Carter twice, then hesitantly said, “Henry Carter bro, I’m useless, I couldn’t keep your family’s land—it was all taken by your uncle.”

Land? Henry Carter pondered for a moment, but said nothing, only patted Brian Clark's shoulder. As Brian Clark left, only Henry Carter was left alone in the empty house. Surrounded by all that was so familiar, the scent of his parents seemed to rush at him. Henry Carter seemed to see his mother sitting in the kitchen, waving at him, and in the curling smoke from the stove, he seemed to smell warmth and the aroma of food. Henry Carter's eyes stung, and hot tears streamed down his face.

A man does not easily shed tears, only because the time for heartbreak has not yet come.

On the battlefield, Henry Carter had bled and been wounded, but he had never cried. But now, as if choked by the scent of home, he couldn’t stop his nose from tingling, couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

Drop by drop, tears fell from Henry Carter's face, onto the ground, onto the table, onto the dark gourd in his hand. He wept in sorrow for a long time, tears falling like rain. Clutching his father’s wine gourd, he murmured, “Mother! Mother! Mother—” but his sobs choked off the rest of his words.