The three great misfortunes in life are: losing parents in youth, losing a spouse in middle age, and losing a child in old age. Over the years, Ming Xiaoyu and his sister endured the first misfortune, painstakingly surviving the initial years after their parents disappeared. Only after time had worn away the agonizing pain of anticipation did their two tormented hearts truly accept the harsh reality that they were parentless.

The moment Xiaoyu stepped into the Yuan Ying Villa, a sliver of doubt still lingered in his mind about his mother's appearance. Still, perhaps the repeated dreams of family reunion in the Sea of Lost Souls were not entirely groundless. Seeing his son thinly clad, his mother instinctively wrapped him in a quilt, bringing a flood of memories back to the surface of his mind.

It was a New Year’s Eve night. His parents were bringing the siblings back from their maternal grandparents' home; the snowdrifts along the road seemed endless. The few pedestrians they encountered were fully bundled up in leather coats and ear muffs. Only Xiaoyu's family moved against the flow, wearing thin, padded jackets against the biting wind. Seeing how terribly cold the two children were, his father picked up the sister, and his mother carried the younger brother, tucking the children inside her own open coat flaps to shield them from the encroaching snow and wind.

Now, seeing his mother wrap him in the quilt, mirroring that exact scene from years ago, the tears Xiaoyu had managed to hold back suddenly burst forth uncontrollably. He lunged into his mother's embrace and wept torrentially. Years of pent-up grievances seemed to break through a massive dam, gushing out endlessly. After a long while, having cried his fill, he looked up, sniffling, and asked, "Mother, where have you and Father been all these years? Why did you suddenly vanish back then? Did you not want my sister and me anymore?"

This line of questioning was perhaps expected, but unexpectedly, the elder woman began to stammer, her voice distant and hazy, muttering, "Ah, that's not true... Is there any parent who doesn't love their own children?"

However, Xiaoyu was not appeased, thinking this was far from the answer he sought. He suddenly straightened up in the old woman’s arms and barked, "Do you have any idea how your sister and I got by all these years? For the first two years after you left, my sister and I would break down crying almost every day; we ate tears mixed with our rice for every meal—have you ever experienced a life like that?" He yelled furiously at his mother. Yet, as soon as the hysterical shouting ceased, Xiaoyu felt his control slip again. Ashamed, he lowered his head, twisting the quilt with his hands, and tear after tear fell, soaking a large patch of the duvet cover before him.

"My child," the elder woman said, neither angered by her son's reproaches nor his accusations against her and his father, speaking to him earnestly. "There are many things in this world you do not know. Our absence did not mean we left you. Every time you were bullied by classmates at school, your father would hide nearby, observing secretly. Only after the teachers and students dispersed would he find the child who tormented you and teach him a lesson. When you and your sister kicked off your covers while sleeping at night, I would wait until you were asleep before quietly entering the room to tuck you in properly. The year you were hospitalized, the auntie next door came to care for you every day—that was because your father and I secretly paid her to look after you. Think back on how many kind-hearted people took care of you two siblings for no apparent reason over the years? Your sister is working now; she should understand that in this world, there is no love without cause and no hatred without reason. The people who truly cared for you two may not be as numerous as they appeared. Your father and I have done everything in our power to secure that care from strangers for you."