Xuan Mu's steps faltered at the threshold of his home, the soft cadence of his wife's voice seeping through the air like a gentle spring breeze.
There, in the cradle of the dimming evening light, she sat on the sofa and sang karaoke with Stinky Bun.
The little boy was nestled in her lap with cherubic innocence, holding a microphone. Close by, XiaoPu was playing on his tablet as he hummed along, occasionally glancing up to show his wife another victory.
The sight before Xuan Mu pierced through the armor around his heart. No matter how often he had returned home, scenes like these always seemed as distant as a star. He would have traded his soul to taste it in the past if he could. It was all so painfully normal, yet to him, it was the echo of a miracle.
