The lines carved from the wood were notably gentle, and the dress could be discerned as that of a male from the figure, who also sported a male’s hair bun. The little figure’s appearance seemed exquisitely detailed. This wood carving was made from a white piece of wood, but Lao Si whispered, "Dad was a bit darker." It wasn’t just a bit darker, but significantly so. Lao Si Haoming and Lao Liu Yixuan shared the same father. When their father had died, Yixuan was young and didn’t understand much, but Lao Si had formed a deep impression of their father. He remembered, his dad was as dark as coal. He then looked towards his young wife, who had also moved into her marital home looking quite dark-skinned. Her appearance wasn’t very appealing, and others said she was ugly, yet her dark skin triggered his childhood memories. From that time, he had started to pay attention to her, drawn to her hands. Her hands were rough back then, with calluses on her fingertips, much like his father’s rough, large hands, which he had earned from years of carpentry. Yet her hands were much smaller than his father’s. At that time, his wife had a bad temper, disliked and avoided by everyone, and he... even if he was beaten, scolded, coldly treated by her, remained indifferent. His heart was like a dead sea, unlikely to be stirred by any waves. As a child, his mother detested him and even looked at him with deep hatred, as if he was a curse, as if just his presence brought immense pain to her. Certain things had become commonplace for him early on, making him adept at handling them. Once, he had asked his dad why mom detested him so much. Among six brothers, only he was treated this poorly by mom. Though she was somewhat indifferent to his other brothers, she never loathed them as she did him. Later, his dad told him that people, if they don’t harbor unreasonable hopes, won’t get hurt. It was from then on he started to develop an indifferent attitude, learned not to expect anything, and this learning, over time, evolved into his unemotional and reticent nature noticed today. He looked again at his young wife and tightly grasped her hand. Now her hands were soft and pale, not rough and dark as before, yet his feelings had also changed from the old days. He couldn’t describe the complex feelings. Such nuanced expression was too difficult for him. But he knew, even when she was fierce and ugly, her dark-skinned appearance felt familiar, and subconsciously, he searched for the shadows of his childhood in her. Every time he saw her, he was reminded of his father. But as she became fairer and prettier, what he sought was no longer a childhood fixation but a desire to spend the rest of his life with this person. Dong Huiying climbed behind him and wrapped her small arms around his neck from behind. "Haoming, did you have a nightmare because you dreamed of dad?" This title warmed his heart. It was their dad, inseparable to both him and her, and he treasured such closeness. He gently touched her hand, then held it, interlocking their fingers. He bowed his head, with an expressionless face, and replied, "Dreamed... he was dead." She thought, no wonder his nightmares were so painful. She embraced him tightly, her small body pressed against his back, transferring her warmth to him. Some people’s tears are not shed on their faces, but flow through their hearts and soak into their bones.