Lin Wenbin thought he was hearing things. “What did you say?” he pressed. “What brother?”

Lin Xiaoxiao let out a snort. “You heard me. You might have another brother now.”

She explained Duoduo’s background and blood type, then concluded, “So I suspect he’s your brother.”

Lin Wenbin took a long moment to process it. “You’re telling me that while Mom and Dad were off relaxing, they weren’t exactly… resting? And they had a kid? At Mom’s age, is that even possible?”

Xiaoxiao shot him a glare. “Are you insane? Mom’s only forty-nine. It’s perfectly possible. Or did you forget you’re the product of their teenage romance and early marriage yourself?”

Wenbin sucked in a breath and flicked her forehead. “Watch your language—‘product’? Whatever, just take me to see this so-called brother.”

Even after his and Xiaoxiao’s own surreal experience of time travel, this still felt unbelievable. What if that little one had traveled through time only to end up in some wilderness or grassland? Wouldn’t he have been eaten by wild animals?

Wenbin pedaled furiously, carrying Xiaoxiao on his bike as they hurried home.

After greeting the Zhou family, his eyes landed on Duoduo. The little boy, dressed in a blue sweater under a padded vest, was sitting on a stool determinedly scooping up steamed egg with a small spoon. He looked adorably clumsy, using his other hand to shove food into his mouth.

Wenbin stared, stunned. Wasn’t this a miniature version of himself?

People had said Duoduo resembled him before, but side by side, the likeness was undeniable.

Li Yunlan ventured cautiously, “Wenbin, you… you don’t have a woman on the outside, do you?”

Wenbin snapped out of his daze and shook his head vigorously. “No, no. This isn’t my child. Definitely not.” It had been years since he’d had a girlfriend—three at least.

Duoduo, happy with his meal, noticed the stranger and studied him seriously before breaking into a giggle.

Wenbin’s heart melted instantly. Xiaoxiao was right—this little one was likely their parents’ late-life surprise.

He crouched down in front of Duoduo and gently pinched his cheek. “Duoduo, huh? You’re quite the looker. And you look so much like me—gave me a real scare. I almost thought you were my kid.”

Zhou Liyun still seemed puzzled. If they looked so alike, how could he not be?

Containing his emotions, Wenbin patted Duoduo’s head and spoke seriously to Li Yunlan and Zhou Liyun. “He really isn’t mine. I didn’t have a girlfriend overseas, and I haven’t been back in China long enough anyway.”

Li Yunlan thought it over and nodded. Given the timeline, even if Wenbin had started dating right after returning, the child wouldn’t be this old yet.

She smiled. “Then it must be fate. We all thought he looked just like you—see, even his eyes and features.”

Wenbin had already accepted the truth: this kid was his brother. Of course they looked alike—same parents.

After finishing his egg, Duoduo had his hands and face wiped by Zhou Liyun, then immediately stretched his arms out toward Wenbin, wanting to be held.

Li Yunlan laughed. “Looks like Duoduo really likes you. When he first met Xiaocheng, he wouldn’t let him hold him at all.”

Holding Duoduo, Wenbin felt a mix of emotions, but hearing that Duoduo had refused Zhou Xiaocheng’s embrace gave him a petty sense of satisfaction. “Must be because I’m better-looking and gentler than Zhou Xiaocheng, right, Duoduo?”

Duoduo giggled again, wrapped his arms around Wenbin’s neck, and gave him a wet kiss.

An’an, who had been sitting in Xiaoxiao’s lap, saw Duoduo kiss the new uncle—and since she liked him too—started patting the air with her little hands. “Up! Up!”

She’d picked up the word from tagging along with Duoduo.

Only then did Wenbin notice the other children. “They’ve all grown so much,” he remarked in surprise. “This is An’an, right? She’s getting prettier by the day.” As he spoke, he reached out and took An’an into his arms as well.

Xiaoxiao grinned and pointed toward the wooden playpen where Xuanxuan and Qianqian were circling. “There are two more over there.”

The two toddlers held onto the railing of the small wooden cart, happily bouncing up and down with glee.

The cart, made by Zhou Xiaocheng, was about a meter long and eighty centimeters wide, fitted with four wheels so the kids could be pushed around outside for some sun.

Wenbin looked at Zhouzhou and Qianqian, then at An’an and Duoduo in his arms, and could only sigh. “Your home is livelier than a kindergarten.”

Li Yunlan beamed with pride. “It means our family is thriving. Many people would envy this.”

Wenbin had to admit—this bustling, joyful scene was indeed something rare and precious.

When the chatter died down, Xiaoxiao finally found a moment to ask, “How was things in Guangzhou?”

Wenbin nodded. “Not bad. I’m back for a break now. I’ll head down again after the New Year.”

But the truth was far from simple. When they first arrived, Guangzhou was much like Beijing—businesses were tightly restricted, policies were still up in the air, and collective living was the norm. Making money was just as tough there.

So Wenbin and Liangzi had taken a risk—they sneaked into Hong Kong. Relying on Wenbin’s fluency in English and Cantonese, his business sense, and their shared courage, they managed to make a decent amount.

Lately, things had gotten riskier, so Wenbin decided they should lay low in Beijing for a while. After the New Year, when policies loosened up, they could invest their earnings legally. It was a sure bet.

Xiaoxiao studied him. “You’ve lost weight. And you’re tanner. Was life hard down there?”

Wenbin smiled lightly. “It was demanding, so I didn’t have much time to stay in touch. But don’t worry—it’ll get better.”

Xiaoxiao knew he wasn’t telling the whole story. How could things be “not bad” under current policies? Private trade beyond farm products was still banned—the whole country was still under the planned economy.

If her brother had made money, it had to be through unusual channels. Maybe he’d gone to Hong Kong.

But with Li Yunlan and the others around, she couldn’t ask openly. Their family was upright—they’d never approve of something like border crossing.

Later, when Li Yunlan and Zhou Liyun took the four children out to play, deliberately giving the siblings some time alone, Xiaoxiao finally cornered him. “Brother, tell me the truth—did you go to Hong Kong?”

Wenbin knew he couldn’t hide it from his sharp-witted sister. He nodded. “Yeah. But don’t worry. I’ve survived rough neighborhoods before. Hong Kong’s nothing.”