She turned slowly, her movements deliberate, her face unreadable. The police, now fully inside the airport hall, had their weapons trained on her. The scene must have been surreal: a girl with the poise of a runway model, standing over two subdued gunmen.
Without a word, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, flipping it open to reveal her ID card. She handed it to the nearest officer, who eyed her cautiously before taking it.
His eyes widened as he read the name and credentials. A few seconds later, he snapped to attention and gave a sharp military salute.
"Captain."
The word rippled through the officers like a shockwave. They lowered their weapons but stared at her, curiosity and disbelief mingling in their gazes.
"No need for formalities." She waved them off with a dismissive hand and walked behind the overturned table to retrieve her rucksack, slinging it over her shoulder with practiced ease.
"Captain Xu."
The voice made her pause. She turned to see a familiar face—Officer Han, a distinguished man with kind eyes and a gentle smile.
"Officer Han," she replied, her surprise evident as she extended her hand. They shook firmly, and the surrounding officers exchanged glances. The sight of their superior beaming at the girl like she was a revered figure erased any lingering doubts.
It wasn't just her rank that astonished them; it was her presence. Her long legs and delicate features, coupled with the sharp, cold aura she carried, gave her the appearance of someone destined for a different kind of spotlight. But "Captain Xu" was no ordinary rank—it was a title earned through years of grueling experience and exceptional service. Most officers needed over a decade of dedication and numerous meritorious deeds to reach it. Yet here she was, no older than a fresh university graduate.
Sensing the unspoken thoughts swirling in the air, the officers quickly busied themselves, avoiding her sharp gaze.
Officer Han chuckled. "Haha, never thought we'd meet in a situation like this. Thanks for your cooperation, Captain Xu."
"I was just passing by," she replied, her tone dismissive but not unkind. She glanced at her phone, which had been buzzing incessantly in her pocket. Its screen flashed with missed calls from one person—her eldest brother.
At that very moment, Xu's eldest brother stood outside the police barricade, his usual icy composure crumbling under the weight of worry. The CEO of a billion-dollar empire, known for his ruthless efficiency and cold demeanor in business, now looked like a man on the verge of breaking.
He had been waiting for her at the arrivals gate when the news broke: armed terrorists at the airport. His mind spun with worst-case scenarios, each thought clawing at his sanity. He demanded to be let in, but the officers held firm.
"I need to see her! She's my sister!" His voice was sharp, but his hands trembled as he clenched his fists.
"Sir, we cannot allow civilians inside until the situation is under control," the officer repeated firmly, his tone apologetic.
Her eldest brother, who could dominate boardrooms with a single glance, felt utterly powerless. He paced anxiously, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for any news.
The phone call finally connected, and Xu Jin Lin heard her brother's voice on the other end—laced with anxiety, frantic and urgent.
"Lin'er, where are you? I'm at the airport's front door. I'm coming to get you; tell me where you are!"
Her heart softened, her brother's worry palpable even through the line. But she was calm, unwavering. She had learned to be steady even in the most chaotic of situations.
"Don't worry, brother. Go to the parking site; I'll be there in a minute."
The moment her voice reached him, his breath seemed to steady. The sharp edge of his worry dulled as he absorbed the calm assurance in her words. He could hear it in her tone—she was fine, and she would always be fine. He quickly hung up and made his way to the parking lot, eager to see his little sister again. The treasure of the family, the one everyone had waited for, was finally coming home.
In the meantime, Officer Han, now in a quieter space away from the rest of the officers, turned to Xu Jin Lin with a familiar smile. "Then, let me treat you to dinner sometime. Just let me know when you're free, Xiao Lin."
She gave a small, approving smile in return, a glimmer of warmth in her usually composed eyes. "Sure, Uncle Han. I'll call you when I'm hungry."
It was clear from their exchange that they shared a history—a long friendship that had weathered time and change. And despite the hard edges she presented to the world, in this moment, her gaze softened as she spoke.
With a quiet nod, she turned and walked toward the exit. Her military backpack swayed slightly with her stride, her footsteps steady, purposeful, and measured. She was like a force of nature, not hurried but resolute, her back straight as she moved through the hall.
Behind her, Officer Han gave a respectful nod before turning back to the scene, his underlings trailing him to complete their work.
And then, the door opened, and there he was.
Her big brother.
The moment she saw him, something inside her broke open—a rush of warmth, a rush of longing, the kind only family could bring. Her brother was standing there, his tall figure framed by the light of the parking lot. His usually composed face softened as he locked eyes with her.
"Big brother…" Her voice caught for a second, and she could barely hold back the flood of emotions welling up inside her. She hadn't realized how much she'd missed him until she saw him standing right in front of her.
"Lin'er."
In an instant, he was across the distance, his strong arms pulling her close in a fierce embrace. The world seemed to pause around them. For a moment, all the years, all the distance, all the hardship melted away. There was nothing but the feeling of family, the feeling of being home.
She closed her eyes and let herself lean into him, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in years. She had spent so long carrying the weight of the world on her own shoulders—so many years of training, surviving, and proving herself—but now, here in his arms, she could simply be his little sister again.
He pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her shoulders as he looked down at her with an expression she rarely saw—a mix of pride, relief, and something deeper that he didn't say aloud.
"I've missed you," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I missed you too, big brother."
For the first time in a long time, Xu Jin Lin allowed herself to be vulnerable. She was no longer the soldier, no longer the unshakable captain. She was simply a sister, reunited with the family she had missed so dearly.
As the car glided through the streets, I stared out of the window, my gaze blank as I watched the familiar scenery pass by. Everything looked the same, yet nothing felt quite the same. The city had a certain stillness to it, a strange dissonance that tugged at me. I was home, yet I wasn't. The life I had left behind five years ago seemed so distant now, like a dream I was waking up from.
My brother sat beside me, his hand gently holding mine, his presence a constant in the chaos of my mind. I could feel his concern radiating, even though he didn't voice it immediately. He was always this way—attentive, careful with his words, loving beyond measure.
"Lin'er," his voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, a gentle question, "What happened at the airport?"
I glanced at him briefly, seeing the familiar worry etched into his features. It made my chest tighten, but I didn't want to add to his burden. I didn't want to make him worry further, not after everything we had been through.
"Just some criminals running amok," I said softly, brushing it off like it was nothing. But I knew, deep down, that I was lying—both to him and to myself.
I leaned my head against his broad shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body, his reassuring presence. It was always like this, ever since we were children—he was my protector, the steady hand that kept me grounded. As a kid, I used to love snuggling into his embrace, feeling safe and loved. Even now, as an adult, I craved that warmth.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. Yes, this was home. Home wasn't a place; it was the feeling of being with the people who made you feel like you could face anything.
"I missed you," I whispered, barely above a murmur.
My brother squeezed my shoulder gently, the way he always did when he didn't know what to say but wanted me to know he understood. He was ten years older than me—older, wiser, and so incredibly patient. He had always been the responsible one, the one who shouldered the burdens that came with being the eldest, while the rest of us made mistakes and learned. He was the quiet strength in our family, the one who never let us falter.
But now, as I sat next to him, I realized how much I had missed him. The world outside had changed so much, but his love, his unwavering presence—it was the one thing that had remained constant, untouched by time.
As I leaned against him, a sense of peace washed over me. The tension that had been a constant companion for the past five years—the never-ending vigilance, the readiness for whatever came next—began to fade. I was home. And for the first time in so long, I allowed myself to rest.
I closed my eyes, letting sleep pull me under, something I hadn't done in years. When I slept, I never truly slept. I always had one eye open, always prepared for whatever was to come. But now, with my brother beside me, I allowed myself to finally feel safe. For the first time in five years, I slept soundly, as if I were a child again.
I didn't stir when the car came to a halt. My brother's gentle hand on my shoulder nudged me awake, but his careful movements, as though he didn't want to disturb me, made me reluctant to leave his embrace.
But pride is a strange thing. As much as I wanted to stay there, nestled against him, I couldn't let him carry me. Not like this. Not as a Captain of the army.
With a small effort, I slipped out of the car on my own two feet, my legs a bit shaky but still steady enough to hold me up. My brother's concerned gaze followed me, but he didn't say a word. He knew me too well to try and stop me.
When we stepped inside the house, however, I couldn't help myself. I dropped my pride at the door and embraced the warmth of the familiar—the comforting, all-encompassing embrace of my family.
I buried my face in my mother's arms, the scent of home overwhelming me. And for the first time in years, I allowed myself to simply be. I wasn't a soldier, a captain, or a protector. I was just Lin'er, the little sister who had come home at last.
And in that moment, everything felt right.