After a somewhat busy weekend, Lübeck reflected on how the newly adopted children had impacted his life. While the affection he gave them satisfied his moral needs, the reality was that they had indeed added to his burdens. Financially, it wasn't much for him, but the drain on his energy and time was very real. Moreover, they had somewhat disrupted his private life with Ruth and Emma.
The carriage rolled toward City Hall, a place where Lü Beck had walked through every season. yet this particular spring brought him a distinct sense of its vitality and innocence. Perhaps it stemmed from the spiritual fulfillment of helping Doris, or the energy Clara and Ida, those two little sprites, brought to the household, or the satisfaction of stabilizing the social structure of the sanctuary. Whatever the reason, this road he'd walked countless times before appeared profoundly different in the morning light.
Upon arriving at City Hall, his colleagues were already present. Lübeck seemed perpetually the last to arrive. The longer commute could serve as a plausible excuse, yet he also refused to be the first one there, lest he impose pressure on others. Both his own ease and others' contentment were reasons he had taken this job. Sometimes, mere diligence failed to solve problems.
The Sanctuary was founded to preserve and strengthen humanity and its races. The most fundamental requirement for population growth was sustenance. From the outset of administrative management, Lübeck had prioritized grain production, establishing a series of guidelines for implementation. Upon entering City Hall, he observed clerks diligently recording and compiling data on spring sowing activities and harvest estimates from across the regions—information crucial for formulating policy directives.
Seated in his office chair, Lübeck pondered yesterday's thoughts: Should he begin elevating Sanctuary's educational output and technological standards? After all, the current environment of solely agricultural production naturally favored those with superior physical strength. They achieved higher agricultural yields, thereby securing better personal living conditions. This, in turn, gave them an advantage in finding partners and producing offspring. Yet it was clear that such a pattern of genetic selection within the population skewed the overall developmental trajectory.
“Captain, look—after clearing out that wave of pests, farmers' enthusiasm for expanding cultivated land has surged. Take a look,” Miller said cheerfully as he entered the office, holding the latest statistical report to show Lübeck.
Lübeck took it and began flipping through the pages while Miller added,
“Look at this trend—households might double the number of newborns they can afford. That small-family unit model you mentioned could be coming soon.”
“Indeed. Perhaps we should expand residential zones in the city,” Lü Beck replied, though inwardly he focused on gradually improving population quality over quantity.
“Perhaps we should establish public education,” Lü Beck continued.
“But who would teach?” Miller inquired.
“True. We may have to rely on the gradual advancement of social productivity. I get carried away at the slightest sign of progress, heh.” Lü Beck chuckled self-deprecatingly.
“Captain, you shouldn't speak that way. For twenty years, I've watched our sanctuary grow alongside you. Given our small population, this level of development is already remarkable.”
“Hmm, let's advance step by step. Rome wasn't built in a day. Give me time to consider gradually introducing technology and industry to establish a non-agricultural production system here.”
After reviewing reports and exchanging opinions, the extra half-day passed quickly. Lü Beck left City Hall early, bought some fish at the market, and headed home.
Upon entering, he saw Ruth preparing dinner for the family in the kitchen. From Emma's room came the babbling sounds of a boy and girl.
Without removing his outer garments, Lübeck turned and entered the kitchen.
“You're back,” said Ruth, sitting still but turning her head to greet him. She was stoking the fire, using a long poker to stir the embers beneath the ashes while adding finely chopped wood.
Slowly, the flames grew stronger. the flames flickering from deep red to bright yellow, illuminating Ruth sitting opposite the hearth. The light fell upon her work apron-smock, revealing its worn patches, washed-out stains, and the creases etched by time—as if bearing silent witness to her quiet labors.
Lübeck approached Ruth before the hearth, set down the fish he'd bought, wrapped his forearm around her waist, and tilted his face toward hers.
The flickering furnace flames illuminated the eyes in her deep-set sockets, reflecting the lingering glow of the fire. Lü Beck closed his own eyes and gently kissed her lips.
The furnace's heat scorched Lübeck's neck, while the warmth of Ruth's lips scorched his soul.
“All right, the child is watching,” Ruth said softly after the kiss, gently pushing Lübeck away.
Her smiling eyes, slightly upturned lips, and the gentle sway of her body radiated nothing but tenderness. Only then did Lübeck notice Clara, who often helped Ruth with tasks within her reach. The small figure sat silently on a stool against the wall, watching everything unfold. Her pale, slightly sparse hair was neatly pulled back into a ponytail, making her appear all the more lonely and vulnerable.
Lübeck knew he had neglected her. A child's heart was so fragile. Thinking this, he reached out and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her small forehead as he said,
“Sit here. You'll be warmer closer to the stove.”
He glanced at Ruth across the room and smiled. How could he express his inner helplessness in front of a child?
Ruth smiled back at Lübeck without saying much, then bent her head to help him clean the freshly bought fish. It seemed tonight would bring an extra flavorful dish.
Clara, sitting on Lübeck's lap, wasn't idle either. Watching the two of them, she learned how to handle fish scales and guts. Though her little hands moved clumsily, she worked diligently and earnestly.
Dinner with the two new additions was lively, but Lübeck hadn't quite adjusted to this new rhythm of life yet. After supper, he went out alone for a walk along the road. The bustling figures moving about seemed to disturb his thoughts; only the quiet night sky and the nebula could soothe the peace within his heart.
When he returned home, everyone else had retired for the night. Only Ruth had prepared warm water for his ablutions. Seeing Lü Beck come in, she quietly slipped away to her own room.
After washing up, Lübeck followed Ruth's footsteps back to her side. After a day of trivial matters, he could finally rest quietly beside his beloved. He stroked Ruth's silky hair, watching the night outline the contours of her cheeks, then leaned in to continue the kiss left unfinished that afternoon.
“Watching you cook today, it felt like all these years of you in the kitchen flashed before my eyes,”
“Heh,” Ruth chuckled at his words,
“At least you still have a conscience, still have me in your heart.”
“But now with two little girls around, it's awkward for us to be intimate,” Lübeck confessed with a hint of frustration.
“Hmph, did you really have to bring that up?” "Ruth teased softly.
“I suppose we should establish a public orphanage or boarding school. After all, I can't adopt every child.”
“Hmm, that's true,” Ruth agreed.
“But we don't know when that will happen. It's still just an idea. We don't have enough professionals yet, and we can't manage detailed social divisions of labor.”
Just then, a sliver of moonlight illuminated Ruth's cheek. Startled, they looked up to see a tiny figure peeking through the door crack. After a moment of hesitant peering, the child timidly whispered,
“Daddy, please don't send me away, okay?”
It was Clara. She had overheard Lübeck and Ruth's conversation outside the door.
Ah, what kind of deprivation drives a child to eavesdrop on casual talk about her own fate? Sighing, Lübeck quickly called out,
“Come in, my child.”
Clara stepped through the doorway, closed the door behind her, and walked to the bed. Lübeck slipped an arm under her armpit and laid her between himself and Ruth. This child had lost her father, her mother was gone—now he was her father, and Ruth was her mother.
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