> "I don't have any money."
Mark Goodman's eyes widened in disbelief.
> "No money? Come on, that's impossible! You worked at the food factory, didn't you? Even apprentices make, what, ten or twenty yuan a month? You mean to tell me you didn't save a single cent in three months? No way—no way!
Logan, we're brothers, aren't we? A brother's trouble is your trouble too! Back in the day, you were always the first to step up for me. What's changed now, huh? Where's the cash—come on, let me see."
He reached for Logan's pocket.
Smack!
Logan's hand came down hard, slapping his arm away. His voice was cold and sharp.
> "What the hell are you doing?"
Mark froze. He had done this many times before—reaching into Logan's pockets like it was nothing. And Logan, naive and eager to please, had never once stopped him.
A few flattering words, a fake show of brotherhood—and Logan would always give in.
But today, Logan's eyes were hard. Unfamiliar.
For a moment, Mark just stared, stunned, before his face flushed red.
> "What's your problem? I told you—I just need to borrow a little. Don't worry, I'll pay it back!"
> "I said I don't have money!" Logan raised his voice. "Yeah, I earned wages, but you think I didn't spend any? I've been eating and living under my brother's roof—what kind of man would I be if I didn't help with expenses?
And another thing—why aren't you asking your own brother for money? Why come to me? I'm not your family!"
The words hit like hammer blows—each one sharp and deliberate.
Mark's face turned crimson with anger.
> "Fine! Don't lend me money then! You talk too damn much anyway! Logan Lee, I really misjudged you. From now on, don't call me your brother! No wonder they kicked you out of the factory—you probably deserved it! Let's see if you can still hang out with me and the boys after this!"
He slammed the door on his way out.
Outside, his boots crunched in the snow as he walked away—counting quietly to himself.
One… two… three…
In the past, every time he stormed off, Logan would always come running out before he reached ten—grinning sheepishly, begging him not to stay mad.
Mark knew Logan's vanity too well. He wasn't a local boy, and he hated being left out. He always wanted to be liked—to be accepted. And Mark had been the first person in the village to call him "brother."
But today… nothing.
Ten… twenty… thirty… fifty.
Still no sound.
Mark frowned.
> Has he really changed? Or is he just broke?
Either way, he thought bitterly, he couldn't turn back now.
If Logan wanted to be cold, he'd be colder.
> "You don't want to give me face? Fine. Let's see how you like it when Susan Wu hears what really happened to you at the factory."
He spat into the snow and trudged off, muttering.
Logan, meanwhile, sat quietly in his room, listening to the echo of the slamming door fade away.
He knew what would happen next. Tomorrow, Mark would start spreading the news that he'd been fired. By the day after, Susan would come looking for him—to break up.
Perfect.
In the west room, George Lee and Mary Liang exchanged puzzled looks.
They'd heard the shouting. The walls in the old farmhouse were thin; every word had carried through.
Mary frowned.
> "That sounded bad. What on earth happened to make Logan talk to Mark like that? He used to hang on that boy's every word."
George nodded slowly.
> "Maybe getting fired changed him. Knocked some sense into him."
> "Could be," Mary agreed. "He's not stupid. Sometimes it takes a hard fall to make a man realize who's using him. Honestly, it's probably a good thing."
> "What about the money?" she asked.
George shook his head.
> "Let him handle it. He's young, and he's courting a girl. Can't live without a little cash."
Just then, the east door creaked open. They fell silent as Logan stepped inside.
He pulled a ten-yuan note from his pocket and held it out to Mary.
> "Sister-in-law, I came back too suddenly. You probably don't have enough coal stored for the winter. Take this and buy some briquettes. I'll go out in a couple days and see if I can find some firewood myself."
George's eyes widened.
> "What? Go out? In this cold? It's thirty below! You'll freeze to death before you find a single stick!"
> "He's right," Mary said quickly. "Keep your money, Logan. You're still young—you should carry some on you."
Truth be told, Mary had never disliked Logan. She just thought he was lazy. But now, seeing him take responsibility for once, her opinion softened.
> "No, you take it," Logan insisted, pushing the money into her hands. "I can't just sit here and let you two keep spending on me. I'm an adult now.
And George—"
He turned to his brother, his voice steady.
> "I'm nearly twenty. I used to be stupid, I know that. I did things I shouldn't have, and I made things harder for everyone. But I've learned. It's cold out—don't worry about me. I'll manage. I've got nothing but time this winter anyway."
He smiled faintly, turned, and walked back to his room.
As the door closed behind him, Logan exhaled deeply.
It wasn't much—but it was a start.
In his past life, every time he'd thought about the foolish things he'd done, the shame had burned like fire.
Now, with this second chance, he wouldn't waste it.
Still… right now, he was hungry.
In the countryside, people usually ate only twice a day during winter. There wasn't enough grain to go around, and the cold didn't make you hungry as fast.
But now, with one more mouth at the table, George's family would struggle to make it through to spring.
Logan smiled bitterly.
> "I really was a burden, wasn't I?"
He used to eat and wear what he wanted without a second thought—never once considering where it came from.
The more he thought about it, the more ashamed he felt.
Then—knock knock.
The door creaked open.
It was his five-year-old nephew, James Lee.
> "Uncle, can I… play with you?"
The boy's nose was red from the cold. His mittens were worn thin.
> "You came all the way back from the city—did you bring anything fun?"
Logan's chest tightened with guilt. He hadn't brought a single gift—not for George and Mary, not even for the children.
He rummaged through his bag and found only one thing: a small box of edible rice paper, used to wrap candies at the Wucheng No.81 Food Factory.
It wasn't much—but to a child, it might as well have been magic.
He pulled out a thin, translucent sheet.
> "Here, James. Hold out your hand."
The boy did as told, eyes wide with curiosity.
Logan placed the sheet on his palm.
> "Don't move. Watch closely—see what happens."
James froze. The rice paper began to curl and wrinkle on his warm skin.
> "It's moving! Uncle, it's really moving!"
Logan smiled. He'd seen the trick a thousand times at the factory. But to a child who'd never seen such a thing—it was pure wonder.
James's loud voice carried through the house, and a moment later, the door opened again.
June Lee, ten years old, peeked in warily.
She was small, thin, with frost-bitten cheeks. She already helped with chores around the house—sometimes doing work Logan himself had once refused to touch.
That resentment showed in her eyes.
If Logan wasn't around, she wouldn't have minded the work. Everyone her age pitched in. But with him back—doing nothing while she slaved—she couldn't help feeling bitter.
> "Sis, look! It's moving!" James shouted. Then he frowned as the rice paper melted in his palm. "Hey, it's gone!"
> "It's fine. I've got more." Logan smiled, giving him another sheet.
He placed one gently in June's hand as well. She didn't say anything—just watched quietly as the film curled and disappeared.
Curiosity flickered in her eyes, even if she tried to hide it.
> "Uncle, why does it move?" James asked, eyes wide.
> "Because it's sensitive to heat," Logan explained simply. "When it gets warm, it shrinks and melts—kind of like how plastic does when it gets too close to fire."
> "It melts?" James's eyes went wide again. "Can I eat it?"
> "You can," Logan said, chuckling.
James stuck out his tongue, licking the rice paper. It dissolved instantly.
> "Hmm… not bad, but not as good as meat," the boy said with a grin. Then he looked up, eyes hopeful.
"Uncle… I want to eat meat."
Logan froze. Then, slowly, he smiled.
> "Yeah," he murmured. "So do I."
(End of Chapter 2)