'SEE YOU MORNING' 110 Lübeck's Visit

The faint morning light filtered through the bedroom’s rear window, illuminating the sleeping faces of Ruth and Clara, the little girl nestled in her arms. Watching them, Lübeck felt as though he could see what Ruth would look like as a mother. The sight also made him wonder inwardly: were all women like this—only able to sleep soundly when curled up together? But he himself hadn’t slept well, afraid that turning over would crush the child, and afraid that snoring would wake her. As a result, he had woken up early.

Spring days were growing longer, so Lübeck had no choice but to pull the quilt over his eyes while drowsiness still lingered. But the darkness before his eyes could not block the phantoms in his mind. It seemed to be the scene of the carriage ride in the spring rain a few days ago—only a few turns, and the deeper they drove into the mountains, the darker the sky became. Or perhaps it was the scene of returning to the city two days earlier. Under the dim yellow light of the streetlamps on both sides, the light rain fell harder and harder. The gaps between the bluestone pavement were submerged in puddles, and the orange-red reflections of the lamps rippled on the water, constantly shattered by raindrops.

In the night, a green bus with a white roof drove past. Its mottled sheet metal was clad in rain, reflecting the dim streetlights—flickering shadows as if it were dark green inlaid with gold. Rainwater flowed over the white roof and rolled down the glass windows along the rust stains. The bus splashed water all over the young Lübeck. On that icy, rainy night, young Lübeck stood on a strange city street, with no way home and no idea where to go.

“Ruth,” he called out her name and woke with a start. He opened his eyes, but Ruth was nowhere in sight; he was lying in bed.

Lübeck pricked up his ears and heard the sound of Ruth and Clara talking outside the room. Oh, it had been a dream. Lübeck breathed a sigh of relief, looked up at the bedroom ceiling, and gathered his thoughts. Finally back to reality, he silently comforted himself: everything in the dream was in the past. Now he had a home and Ruth by his side.

Calming his mind and breath, Lübeck dressed and got up. He glanced at the next room—Ada was still asleep. Then he went to Emma’s room. As he stepped through the doorway, it felt as though he was still carrying behind him the cold, rainy night of his youth that the dream had recalled. Seeing this mother and child, it seemed that all the storms and hardships he had once endured were worthwhile.

Emma was already awake but still lazing in bed. She must have just fed her son, as the baby was sleeping again in the crib. Seeing Lübeck enter with that sly look of his, she immediately perked up, lay there, and teased him,

“What, isn’t my sister Ruth enough for you?”

Lübeck gave a helpless, wry smile, sidled over to Emma, and said,

“Don’t even mention it. Last night, when Ruth and I were talking about adopting Clara and Ada, I mentioned that in the future we’d need to build an orphanage or a boarding school for children like them. After all, I can’t adopt every child. To be honest, they are lovely, but I’m not really used to having more people in the house.”

“Oh, so it’s affecting you, is it? Are you going to send them away in the future?”

“We were just talking about that when Clara overheard at the door,” Lübeck paused.

Emma asked quickly,

“She eavesdropped on you?”

“Ah, you can’t blame her. She’s still a child. She’s finally come to our home, so it’s understandable that she’s afraid of another change,” Lübeck said, and only then realized that perhaps this child was the sensitive type. He really hadn’t thought that much last night.

“Well, and then?” Emma asked curiously.

“Then I became her daddy, Ruth became her mommy, and we cuddled her in the middle to sleep.”

Hearing that, Emma stopped asking questions, smiled at him without speaking, as if deliberately trying to annoy him.

“What are you laughing at?” As he spoke, Lübeck shook her shoulders with both hands, fooling around with her.

Emma’s body, neck, and hair swayed to the rhythm as he shook her. She remained silent, just laughing and looking at Lübeck with her big eyes.

“Breakfast is ready,” Ruth said, knocking on the door from outside.

Just as Lübeck turned his head toward the door, Emma jumped out of bed like a child, slipped past Lübeck, laughed as she looked into his eyes, and walked past him, letting out a teasing remark,

“Time for breakfast.”

For a moment Lübeck was stunned, frozen, recalling the scene of Emma gliding past his eyes—as if he had never seen Emma like that before. Only when he heard her giggling from behind and the quiet exchange between Ruth and Emma did he snap out of that moment.

After breakfast, he went to the town hall. After resolving the interest groups, life had indeed become much more leisurely. There were no more civil disputes, and with the same amount of manual labor cultivating more land, life in Zufluchtsland was peaceful. But Lübeck could not enjoy his ease. He gathered his documents and his long-held ideas and headed to the home of Michael Krause—the former chief sheriff, who was on leave after a series of incidents, as his management of law and order in Zufluchtsland had been too lenient.

Lübeck arrived by carriage at Michael’s residence, but no one was home. Strolling along the country lanes in spring was always pleasant. The stream by the roadside babbled, shimmering brightly in the sunlight. Ash trees had sunk their roots into the stream and were the first to flaunt their tender green new leaves in the spring breeze.

In the distance, Lübeck reached the Krause family’s field, and sure enough, the whole family was busy sowing. When he got to the roadside by the field, his daughter and daughter-in-law were boiling barley porridge over a fire by the path. They both recognized Lübeck. Seeing him come to visit, they wanted to call their father back from the field.

Lübeck quickly waved his hand and said,

“Don’t call him. I’ll wait a while. No hurry.” Then he asked his daughter,

“Is your father getting used to being on leave at home these days?”

His daughter was very polite, curtsied, and then answered,

“Not bad. He’s much more idle. He doesn’t need to help with the farming anyway.”

“Can’t he sit still?”

“No. Either he’s fixing farm tools or mending the house.”

“Hmm, same as always,” Lübeck couldn’t help but recall the years he and Michael had shared. Then he tried asking,

“Wouldn’t it be nice if he retired early to enjoy his grandchildren once your brothers have children?”

“Mm,” she agreed, but Lübeck thought he could see on her face that she was holding something back.

Lübeck continued,

“I’ve been free lately too, so I came to see my old friend.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Father often talks about the days when he sailed with you.”

“Really?” Lübeck asked with a smile.

“Yes. He’s always so happy telling those old stories. Even though he’s told some of them many times, seeing how delighted he is, we never interrupt him.”

“That’s good. As long as he’s happy,” Lübeck paused for a moment.

“But I’d still like to ask for his help. Would he be willing to give up his current comfortable life?”

“He should be willing. He always mentions you.”

“But then he couldn’t stay by your side.”

Before Michael’s daughter could answer, a familiar voice sounded in his ear,

“Lübeck.”

They both turned and saw that Michael had heard their conversation and walked over without anyone noticing. Lübeck turned to face Michael. Before he could speak, Michael saluted first.

“Captain.”

Lübeck quickly returned the salute, shook his hand, and said,

“Michael, long time no see.”

“Yes, you’re a busy man too.”

“Had enough leave, Michael? I want to set up a natural resources department. Would you lead it? Find some resources and wealth for our children, make their lives better. I think only you can bring the lads back safely.” As he spoke, Lübeck glanced at Michael’s children.

“I’ll follow you, Captain.” Michael said, gripping Lübeck’s hand tightly.