"I'm just a man with dirt on his boots,” he whispered, a small grin tugging at his lips. Yunxi's words are filled with a kind of awe that never quite left him whenever he held his son. “And your mom still chose me.”

The memory came back like it always did: the first time he saw you standing behind the counter of your father’s house in the capital. He had come with a sack of dried herbs, nervous and unsure of how to speak in a place where silk flowed more freely than soil. But when you smiled, something shifted.

The baby let out a soft, content sigh and drifted further into sleep, and he adjusted the blanket over his back, then leaned against one of the porch beams. Life here was quiet but full of movement, full of purpose.

“When you grow up,” he said gently, lowering his voice so only the sleeping child could hear. “You’ll know the sound of the wind in the grass is better than city noise.” He chuckled softly.

From inside the house, the sound of your footsteps stirred and he turned slightly, his eyes meeting yours just for a moment full of quiet adoration.