Chapter 6: The Eccentric Uncle's Happy Life

As soon as he entered the apartment building's gate, Logan hurried to the doorkeeper's office and called out, "Mrs. Hansen?"

The elderly lady, wearing a nightgown and donning her old reading glasses, became instantly excited at the sight of Logan's face. "Ah, Hans, you're finally back! The great hero of Germany! How wonderful, how wonderful!"

"Um, this trip was a bit long. I trouble you to take care of my nephew and nieces!" Logan explained. Entrusting his niece, Quirin, and her siblings with vital "evidence" at home might not seem wise, but storing it elsewhere was even less secure! Since these three French children didn't understand German, Logan had to ask Mrs. Hansen to buy food for them and pay utility bills every day.

"Oh, they're very well-behaved. They often help me with cleaning!" Mrs. Hansen laughed cheerfully, opening a drawer and pulling out a thick stack of postcards, each depicting Logan: some from Monet's "Impressionism," others from the airborne training ground's "Realism," and even some scenic ones with the English Channel in the background...

"I understand. Mrs. Hansen, I'll sign these for you as soon as possible!" Logan hastily took the postcards from Mrs. Hansen's hands; if he let her introduce each one, it would probably take until 8 a.m. the next morning.

"Don't rush, my child. Here are some of your personal letters. Since those children don't understand German, I was afraid they might lose them while playing, so I've kept them here all along!" With that, the German elderly lady retrieved a neatly tied stack of envelopes from another drawer, which, compared to the postcards, were lighter and thinner.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hansen! I should be staying in Berlin for a few days this time, so we'll chat properly when I have time. And..."

"Don't worry, I'll keep it confidential for you!" The German elderly lady looked serious, but it wouldn't be difficult for her relatives to figure out that the person they received these signed postcards from lived in the apartment she managed!

Fortunately, celebrity chasing in this era wasn't as fanatical as in later years. At least, no one would come intentionally knocking on the door...

Before entering the door, Logan deliberately glanced at it and said in French, "Police, show your identification!"

There was an immediate clatter of a chair being knocked over and a young girl's squeal of "Oh!" from inside. But within moments, a bell-like voice came from behind the door, "Is it Mr. Pissenlit?"

Logan smiled. "Yes, of course!"

The door cracked open, and an eye peered out cautiously. Then the door swung wide open.

Standing at just 1.6 meters tall, "Little Sophie Marceau" looked like an adorable little squirrel in front of Logan. She wore a white dress, her hair tied back with a handkerchief. Because she wasn't wearing a bra, two faint dots were clearly visible on her chest, and her bare feet on the floor looked particularly fair and delicate.

"I brought some delicious cake for you all!" Logan lifted the large box in his hand, still speaking in French. Immediately, Quirin's two siblings popped out from behind the couch and table like little mice, standing neatly on either side of their sister, looking up at Logan eagerly.

"Little Sophie Marceau" patted her siblings' heads. "What should we say when Mr. Pissenlit comes back?"

"Welcome back!" Although the two children's words weren't very neat, and they sounded childish, especially the slightly older girl, who showed her missing front teeth when she spoke. The youngest boy's gaze never left the cake box from start to finish.

The innocence of the children made Logan suddenly forget all about the killings, as if he had stepped into a pristine forest untouched by any pollution.

"So sensible. Here you go!" Logan handed the cake box to Quirin, and the two little mice instantly jumped with joy.

"Little Sophie Marceau" placed the cake box in her sister's hands. "Sophia, take your brother to the dining table and get some utensils. Don't use your hands, okay?"

The little girl nodded, seeming to understand, and then walked away holding the box as if it were a treasure.

"Please wait!"

"Little Sophie Marceau" spoke as she took a pair of slippers from the shoe rack by the door and then crouched down to untie Logan's shoelaces.

"Um... I can do that myself!" Logan, used to being independent since childhood, felt uncomfortable having someone suddenly wait on him.

But "Little Sophie Marceau" paid no heed to these formalities, deftly removing his shoes and slipping on the slippers. Then she took the briefcase from Logan's hands. "Can I put this in the cabinet?"

"Sure!" Logan had just taken off his military cap when "Little Sophie Marceau" took it from him and hung it on the coat rack.

"What would you like for dinner tonight? We have noodles, potatoes, greens, and beef! And bread too!" "Little Sophie Marceau" rattled off quickly. Logan found her French challenging, but he slowly began to realize that her eagerness was mainly to avoid feeling like she was getting charity for nothing, so she busied herself with tasks she could manage. With a maid outfit on, she could easily pass for a super invincible lolita maid, couldn't she?

Thinking about her clean, almost porcelain-like body, though somewhat slender, felt comforting when hugged tight— in that moment, he felt like the king of the universe, capable of protecting his woman completely.

As for dinner, Ye Shunneke treated, and Logan was joined by two other young officers at a nearby restaurant. They chatted about trivial matters. Logan learned that Goring had woken up only four days ago, but due to severe throat injuries, it remained to be seen whether he would regain his ability to speak.

With Studden in front and Goring behind, German Air Force officers seemed fated to encounter coma, speechlessness, and paralysis!

"I've already eaten, what about you guys?" Logan used French, not entirely comfortable with it.

"We've eaten too, we had bread, greens, and slices of beef!" Quicker than ever, Quirrell said. By now, the two little mice had already grabbed their cutlery and started invading the big cake.

Though Quirrell tried to hide it with her eyes, Logan still noticed her longing for the cake— life in a small village like Monck, with three children being cared for by three elderly people and women, probably wasn't easy.

"You go ahead and eat too, I think I'll rest for a bit!" Logan said kindly. In that moment, he wasn't the terrifying warlord in the eyes of the Allies, but a seemingly gentle and lovable "weird uncle".

Quirrell discreetly swallowed a mouthful of saliva and offered, "It's okay, do you want me to give you a back rub?"

"Haha, your Uncle Dandelion is only 23 years old this year, still going strong!" Logan chuckled, then corrected himself after a moment, "Uh, 27 years old. My mistake!"

"You can mess up something like this?" Quirrell looked at Logan with a puzzled expression, her eyes seeming to hold a hint of disdain: this guy, must have never been good at elementary math!

By the time their sister joined them at the table, the two little mice had completely forgotten her earlier instructions, their faces and hands covered in cream as they enjoyed the cake.

Logan chuckled as he watched for a moment, then picked up his briefcase and headed back to his room. The exchanges with the officers in the afternoon and evening had given him some new ideas for his battle plans. As the saying goes, better to write it down than rely on memory, so he quickly jotted down his thoughts while his mind was still clear.

Under the desk lamp, the ambitious young man wrote diligently, unaware of the passing time. When he finally looked at his watch after completing his work, it was already half past twelve! He had to get up early tomorrow!

Logan sniffed his military uniform, having flown in a plane and spent two hours in a restaurant, the smell of leather, smoke, and food mixed together into a strange concoction.

Taking off his coat, he pulled out a clean set of clothes from the wardrobe, yawning as he did so, and walked out the door.

Quirrell's two siblings were already asleep on the couch like little cats, their hair still slightly damp from their bath earlier.

"Mr. Dandelion, do you want to take a bath?"

Logan scratched his head, "Hmm, with this weather, a cold shower will do!"

"Sorry, we used up your soap, so I asked the lady downstairs to buy a bar, I'm not sure if it's the same kind you used before!"

"Oh, it's fine, as long as it's soap!" Having come from the future, Logan had already gotten used to this era without shampoo or shower gel.

"Then I'll get you a towel!" Quirrell, barefoot, quickly fetched a neatly folded towel from beside the door, which seemed to still carry the scent of sunshine.

Thinking about his previous life, Logan couldn't help but sigh: with a woman at home, life was happy and peaceful!

The simple shower and toilet were in the same room, and Logan wasn't in the habit of locking doors, so when he entered, he suddenly felt someone beside him.

"Bow your head, I'll help you scratch it!" It was a very gentle and pleasant female voice, speaking French naturally.

After a slight hesitation, Logan bent down, offering his precious and one-of-a-kind head to the other person.

Her fingers were thin and soft, and pressing them against his scalp felt extremely comfortable, nothing like the salon attendants with their smoky makeup and long nails scratching people's heads.

"Did you used to help others wash their hair often?" Logan asked curiously.

"Helped my siblings wash!" came the gentle reply.

"No wonder!" Logan murmured. Only for one's own kin would one be so meticulous and considerate!

With delicate hands, gently and leisurely massaging, Logan relaxed to the point of almost falling asleep. After a while, the female voice said, "Tilt a bit to the left, I'll rinse off the bubbles for you!"

The word "bubbles" seemed like something Logan hadn't heard in years.

Once rinsed clean, those small hands used the towel to gently dry Logan's hair and face. When he opened his eyes, he suddenly realized that the hem of the skirt, which had been at knee level before, was now gone, and looking up, he saw the burgeoning spring grass...

"Turn around, I'll help you wash your back!" Upon closer listening, the gentle female voice revealed a hint of shyness.

Shoes off at the door, a back scrub during the shower, what's next?

Logan suddenly felt full of anticipation.