The Milkman's Last Secret

The rain had been relentless, hammering against the windows of the old Victorian house as if it were trying to wash away the secrets that had long been buried within its walls. In the dim light, the living room was a study in contrasts—a cozy hearth burning with logs that cast flickering shadows, and the sound of the rain against the glass creating a symphony of secrets.

Xiao Li, the son of the house's owner, was sitting on the couch, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames. His father, a quiet man known in the neighborhood as the Milkman, was at the kitchen counter, his hands moving with a rhythm that had become as familiar as the sound of the rain.

"Another batch?" Xiao Li asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The Milkman nodded, his eyes never leaving the bottles of milk he was filling. "Yes, Xiao Li. It's the same every night."

Xiao Li's curiosity was piqued. The Milkman had always been a figure of mystery, but the secret of his lactation had never been spoken of openly. "Dad, why do you do this? Why not just buy milk from the store?"

The Milkman turned, his eyes softening. "Because it's not just milk, Xiao Li. It's a tradition, a gift from my family."

Xiao Li's brow furrowed. "But why? Why can't you just stop?"

The Milkman sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of generations. "It's not that simple, Xiao Li. It's a secret, one that's been passed down through the years."

Xiao Li leaned forward, his curiosity growing. "Tell me, Dad. What is it?"

The Milkman's eyes met his son's, and in that moment, Xiao Li felt a shiver run down his spine. "It's a secret about our family, Xiao Li. A secret that's tied to the milk, a secret that has kept us safe."

The Milkman's voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of truth. "I'm not just a milkman, Xiao Li. I'm the last of a line of lactators, men who have been chosen by fate to provide milk for those in need."

Xiao Li's eyes widened in shock. "But why? What's so special about the milk you produce?"

The Milkman's voice was filled with a hint of pride. "The milk is a source of healing, Xiao Li. It has been used to cure diseases and soothe the pain of the sick. It's a gift from the gods, a blessing."

Xiao Li was silent for a moment, processing the revelation. "But what about the milk you give to us? Why do we drink it every night?"

The Milkman's eyes softened. "It's a ritual, Xiao Li. It's a way to honor the tradition and to keep the power alive within our family."

Xiao Li's heart raced with a mix of fear and excitement. "But what if the power fades? What if we can't keep the secret anymore?"

The Milkman's eyes met his son's, filled with determination. "Then we will find a way, Xiao Li. We will find a way to keep the tradition alive, to honor our ancestors."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of discovery. Xiao Li began to notice changes in his father's behavior, a growing sense of urgency that was almost palpable. The Milkman would disappear for hours at a time, returning with strange herbs and ancient texts that seemed to hold the key to their family's past.

Xiao Li's curiosity was relentless. He would follow his father, watch as he performed rituals and prepare the milk, his mind racing with questions. But the Milkman was silent, his words few and far between, as if he were guarding a treasure that was too precious to share.

One evening, as Xiao Li was helping his father prepare the milk, a knock at the door startled them both. The Milkman looked up, his expression one of concern.

"Who could it be at this hour?" Xiao Li asked, his voice tinged with fear.

The Milkman nodded, his eyes narrowing. "I'll get it."

As the Milkman opened the door, Xiao Li saw a figure standing in the rain, drenched and shivering. It was a man he had never seen before, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation.

"Please," the man whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of the rain. "I need help. I need your milk."

The Milkman's eyes widened in surprise. "Who are you?"

The man looked up, his eyes meeting the Milkman's. "My name is Wang. I have a child who is very ill. The doctors have given up, but I heard about you. I heard about your milk."

The Milkman hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Come in. You can have some milk."

As the man followed the Milkman into the house, Xiao Li felt a mix of emotions. He watched as his father prepared the milk, his hands moving with a sense of purpose that was new to him.

When the man returned to his home, Xiao Li felt a sense of relief. But the next day, the Milkman was gone again, and Xiao Li knew that something was very wrong.

He followed his father, this time with determination in his heart. He found him in a small, hidden room, surrounded by ancient texts and strange herbs. The Milkman looked up, his eyes meeting Xiao Li's.

"What are you doing here, Xiao Li?" he asked, his voice filled with a hint of anger.

Xiao Li stepped forward, his eyes filled with determination. "I'm here to help, Dad. I know you need me."

The Milkman sighed, a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of generations. "You can't help me, Xiao Li. This is a secret that can't be shared."

Xiao Li's eyes met his father's, filled with a mix of anger and sorrow. "But why? Why can't we share this with the world? Why must it be a secret?"

The Milkman's eyes softened, and he reached out to touch Xiao Li's face. "Because, Xiao Li, the world is not ready for our secret. It's a gift, a gift that must be protected."

Xiao Li's heart raced with a mix of emotions. "But what if the world needs this gift? What if there are others like us, who need the healing power of your milk?"

The Milkman's eyes met his son's, filled with a mix of pride and sorrow. "Then you will have to carry the secret, Xiao Li. You will have to carry it and share it with the world when the time is right."

Xiao Li nodded, his eyes filled with determination. "I will, Dad. I will carry this secret and share it with the world."

As the Milkman turned back to his work, Xiao Li felt a sense of responsibility. He knew that the journey ahead would be filled with challenges, but he was ready. He was ready to carry the secret and share the gift that had been given to his family for generations.

The rain continued to fall, a relentless drumbeat that seemed to echo the secrets that had been kept within the walls of the old Victorian house. Xiao Li stood by his father's side, his heart filled with a sense of purpose. He was ready to face whatever came next, ready to carry the legacy of the Milkman and the power of the milk.