Tucked among the rolling hills in the north-central part of Pingtan Island, Kengbei Village sits quietly beneath Mount Junshan, its stone houses climbing the slope in uneven rows like shells left behind by the tide. At the highest point of the village stands Kengbei No. 2, a modest two-story stone home where mountain winds sweep straight across the courtyard and rooftops stretch toward the distant horizon.

The house belongs to 86-year-old He Hongfa. Standing at the doorway with silver hair and a straight back, the retired veteran still carries the steady gaze and quiet discipline of his years in the military.

He returned to his hometown in 1966 after leaving the army. Two years later, after getting married, he decided to build a home of his own.

At the time, roads into the village were rough, and every stone had to be carried by hand from the foot of Mount Junshan. He hired workers and enlisted relatives and neighbors to help stack the stones one by one. Timber came mostly from dismantled old houses, while additional materials were bought bit by bit whenever the family could afford them.

The result was a simple one-story stone house with three rooms. In the year it was completed, He and his wife, Chen Shuiju, moved in together with his mother and younger brother.

But the couple did not stay long.

In 1969, He left the island for work, and his wife followed with their four daughters. The family gradually settled into city life, while the stone house in Kengbei Village stood mostly empty, watched over occasionally by relatives.

More than 30 years later, after retiring from work and seeing his daughters establish families of their own, He made another decision — to return home.

"Coming back to the countryside felt like reliving childhood," he said. "Here, there's sky above you, land beneath your feet, and a yard of your own."

By then, the old stone house had fallen into disrepair. He renovated much of it himself, reinforcing the roof, refurbishing the interior and coating the exterior walls with cement. Today, the house remains simple and sturdy, carrying both the marks of age and the care of those who still live there.

Around the house, He carved out several small vegetable plots. Though the harvest season has already passed, he still crouches down with enthusiasm to inspect the soil.

"Different seasons bring different crops," he said, naming bitter melon, loofah, sweet potatoes and peanuts. "When you grow your own food, you eat with peace of mind."

Bright flowers bloom outside the front door, which He tends in his spare time. His wife, now less mobile, still helps as she can, often sitting on a small stool nearby. Their days follow quiet routines — watering plants, tending vegetables and eating together.

Every morning, He visits the village fitness center before returning to work in the garden. His wife spends time sorting vegetables or drying peanuts in the sun outside the house.

Their four daughters now live and work elsewhere, returning mainly during holidays. Most days, it is the stone house, the small plots of land and each other that keep the elderly couple company.

Inside the home, faded old photographs line the walls. Looking through them, He reflects on the path his life has taken — from returning home after military service, to leaving for the city, and finally making his way back again after retirement.

"It feels like life has come full circle," he said. "Once you get used to living here, you no longer want to leave."

As evening falls over the village, He waters the flowers outside while his wife watches television indoors. The light glowing from the house is soft rather than bright, but warm enough to fill the home.

The stone house has witnessed the sweat and labor of his youth and welcomed him back after decades away. Quietly standing against the hillside, it continues to accompany the couple through everyday meals and changing seasons.

For He Hongfa, home is nothing more — and nothing less — than these stone walls, this small light and the person growing old beside him.