"A home becomes extraordinary not because its doors never close, but because its welcome never does."
Winter returned once again.
The years had softened everything.
The stone path through the courtyard had become smooth beneath countless footsteps.
The persimmon tree stood tall and strong.
Its branches now stretched beyond the fence, offering shade to neighbors who had never entered the courtyard.
No one minded.
Trees had never believed in property lines.
Marshal's newest descendants occupied every warm patch of sunlight.
One opened a single eye.
"The house appears busy."
"It usually is."
Lu answered.
"It also appears peaceful."
"It usually is."
"I remain suspicious."
"That also appears permanent."
The Doorbell
One morning—
The old doorbell stopped working.
It had rung faithfully for almost thirty years.
Now—
Silence.
Jun arrived with his toolbox.
"I'll replace it."
Yaoyao smiled.
"Will you?"
He nodded confidently.
"Of course."
Then he paused.
"...although..."
"...most people..."
"...don't actually ring it."
Everyone laughed.
It was true.
Neighbors knocked.
Children shouted from outside.
Friends called,
"Tea?"
The gate was usually open anyway.
The Delivery
That afternoon—
A furniture company mistakenly delivered six rocking chairs instead of one.
The driver apologized