Mei Lin woke to the sound of a bell.
Not the sharp clang of urgency, but the distant, familiar rhythm calling villagers to the fields. For a brief moment, she forgot where she was. Then warmth registered—steady, solid warmth beside her.
Ming Li.
She lay still, listening.
His breathing was even, calm. One arm rested loosely around her waist, not possessive, not distant—just there. The kind of closeness that didn't demand proof.
Sunlight slipped through the paper window, landing softly on the clay wall. Dust motes floated in the beam. The room smelled faintly of soap and rice.
This morning… is real, she thought.
In her previous life, she had woken alone on mornings like this, already planning how to escape. Now, all she wanted was to stay.
She carefully lifted his arm and rose quietly, afraid to break the fragile peace. Pulling on her jacket, she stepped into the kitchen and began to move with practiced ease.
Rice porridge simmered slowly. She washed vegetables, sliced pickles, boiled eggs. The motions were simple, but her heart was steady—grounded in purpose.
When she returned to the bedroom, Ming Li was awake.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, looking momentarily startled—as if unsure whether the night before had been real.
"You're awake," Mei Lin said softly.
He nodded.
"You didn't have to get up so early."
"I wanted to."
He studied her for a second—her calm expression, the lack of hesitation—and something in his gaze softened.
Their daughter padded in then, hair messy, eyes bright.
"Mother!"
She ran straight into Mei Lin's arms.
"You smell like breakfast," she said happily.
Mei Lin laughed quietly and kissed her cheek.
"Yes. Wash your face. Eat well."
Ming Li watched them, something tight loosening in his chest.
After breakfast, Mei Lin packed a small cloth bag. Ming Li noticed.
"Where are you going?" he asked, tension creeping into his voice despite himself.
She turned to him and smiled.
"To the county."
His jaw tightened—but before he could speak, she continued:
"Together."
He froze.
"We're getting our marriage certificate today."
Silence filled the room.
Then—
"…Today?" he asked.
"Yes."
She looked at him steadily.
"We've been husband and wife for years. But I want it recorded. Properly. So no one can doubt it. Not the brigade. Not your family. Not even you."
Ming Li felt something press behind his eyes.
He nodded once.
"Alright."
They left together.
He wore a navy-blue shirt and beige trousers, clean and neatly pressed. She walked beside him, their daughter holding both their hands, swinging happily between them.
In the county office, the clerk looked up lazily—then paused.
A teacher.
A young woman with calm eyes.
A well-behaved child.
Everything about them looked… right.
Documents were checked. Names written. Stamps pressed.
The clerk slid a small red booklet across the desk.
"Next."
Mei Lin picked it up carefully.
The paper was thin. The ink slightly uneven.
But to her, it weighed more than gold.
Ming Li stared at the certificate in her hands.
For years, he had feared losing her.
Now, something was finally anchoring them in the same place.
Outside, Mei Lin tugged him gently.
"Let's eat."
They sat in a small county restaurant—simple dishes, warm steam rising from bowls.
Across the table, Ming Li looked at her.
"You really came back," he said quietly.
She met his gaze.
"I never should've left."
For a moment, he didn't respond.
Then he reached across the table and covered her hand with his.
"We'll take it slow," he said. "Trust… takes time."
She nodded.
"I have a lifetime."
When they returned to the brigade, her in-laws were already waiting.
The moment her mother-in-law saw the red booklet, she froze.
Her father-in-law stood up slowly.
"You… registered?"
Mei Lin handed him the certificate respectfully.
"Yes, Father."
He stared at it for a long time, then handed it back.
"Good."
Just one word.
But it carried weight.
That night, Mei Lin cooked again—this time with confidence. The house felt fuller, warmer, steadier.
As she tucked her daughter in, the little girl whispered:
"Mother, are you really staying forever?"
Mei Lin smiled, brushing hair from her daughter's face.
"Yes. Forever."
In the next room, Ming Li listened.
And for the first time since she returned, he believed her.