What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 02

That evening, Yu Yao took her rest in the guest room situated on the second floor. Directly beneath her, on the first floor, lay Jiang Zhonglin’s room—silent and unobtrusive.

As she reclined on the bed, rest eluded her; she found herself tossing and turning, unable to find comfort.

She wondered if the house’s impeccable soundproofing or Jiang Zhonglin’s own quiet demeanor was to blame. No sounds from below reached her—no footsteps, no voices, not even the faint hum of the cooling systems, which remained entirely silent.

The room itself was sparsely and plainly furnished, giving no indication of recent habitation. Though devoid of any odd odors, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over her.

Once, she had been quite willful in her youth, and although she had made some progress in her twenties, that resilience had waned—leaving her feeling increasingly restless.

Frustrated, she threw back the covers and leapt from the bed, stomping loudly on the floor in a deliberate attempt to break the silence. Anyone in the downstairs quarters, unless deaf, would certainly notice her disruptive outburst.

After a while, Jiang Zhonglin, the downstairs resident, came up and knocked on the door.

“What’s wrong? Is there something wrong?” Yu Yao opened the door and let him in.

“It’s too hot in the room, I can’t sleep.”

Jiang Zhonglin was still wearing long pants and long sleeves, looking like he hadn’t slept yet. It was strange—wasn’t it the habit of older people to go to bed early?

He looked at the indoor temperature display and sighed in his heart.

He said in a calm tone, “The temperature has dropped today. The most suitable indoor temperature is 28 degrees. It’s easy to catch a cold if it’s any lower.”

“No, I’m just hot,” Yu Yao insisted.

Jiang Zhonglin hadn’t experienced her dog-like temper for a long time.

Now, after forty years, he seemed to accept it well. Without a word, he turned the temperature down one degree for her.

When he saw her staring at the temperature control, he wasn’t exactly relieved.

Before he left, he said to her, “You can’t turn it down any further. You have to cover yourself with a thin quilt before going to bed.”

As he said this, Yu Yao vaguely remembered him from back then—a young man who talked constantly.

After he left, she lay down on the bed.

In his youth, Jiang Zhonglin had actually been quite careless and hadn’t paid much attention to such things. But after marrying Yu Yao, he began to take care of these little things, as if he knew he had a family and had to take good care of his beloved wife.

He spent every day researching, was forgetful, and had trouble remembering things. He found it necessary to jot down the things he needed to remember in his notebook, consulting it before leaving the house and upon returning home.

The notes were a chaotic jumble, blending work and personal life indiscriminately.

There were entries like “Buy braised duck on the way home from work today,” “Yu Yao doesn’t eat ginger,” and “Buy flowers for the three-month wedding anniversary.” Alongside these were numerous research-related notes, which Yu Yao often found difficult to understand and paid little heed to.

To her, it just seemed absurd that, in 2018, he still relied on a notebook for reminders. Why not simply use his phone?

But Jiang Zhonglin explained that writing things down by hand in a notebook helps reinforce memory more effectively.

As she reflected on this, her irritation gradually subsided.

She gazed at the dimming ceiling for a moment, then reached out to draw the thin quilt over herself, closing her eyes in quiet resignation.

“Yu Yao, I sincerely hope you won’t push yourself too hard.”

As she reflected on Jiang Zhonglin’s expression when he uttered those words earlier this afternoon, she couldn’t help but notice the calmness that enveloped him—so measured that it seemed almost excessive, casting an air of unnatural serenity.

His wife, whom he had not seen in forty years, suddenly reappeared before him. Shouldn’t such a moment stir some excitement within him?

Perhaps forty years is enough time to completely forget a person, to let go of all feelings, and consequently, to feel nothing at all.

If that is the case, then his composed exterior makes sense. Everything in this world evolves, and people are capable of profound change.

…

Jiang Zhonglin sat quietly in the chair by the expansive window on the lower floor, removing his glasses and placing them on the small table beside him.

The gaze that once held wisdom and calm now seemed clouded with a kind of vacant emptiness, a reflection of a mind perhaps unable to recover from the passage of time and the weight of memories long gone.

At that moment, a rhythmic “Dong Dong Dong” sounded from above, bringing him back to his senses.

He looked up, took his glasses from his hand, put them on, stood up at the railing, smiled slightly, shook his head, and sighed, “It’s good to be old, unlike young people who easily show their emotions.”

“Young people don’t understand the thoughts of the elderly.” He said to himself with a smile, but his eyes were full of sadness.

He walked upstairs and saw Yu Yao leaning against the door with his arms folded.

“What’s wrong?”

Yu Yao had a blank expression, “I’m thirsty, but I don’t know where to get water.”

Upon understanding, Jiang Zhonglin responded with gentle reassurance, “Oh. Allow me to fetch some water for you.”

He gracefully descended the stairs, Yu Yao quietly following behind him.

“I’ll pour the water; you should rest,” he offered kindly.

Her reply was a simple “Oh,” yet her footsteps remained steady, her presence quietly attentive as she trailed in his wake.

Jiang Zhonglin ceased speaking for a moment, then proceeded to fill a glass of water in the kitchen.

Afterwards, he thoughtfully guided her on a tour of the household, explaining the functions of various modern appliances. Over the span of forty years, countless updates and replacements had transformed these items into more sophisticated versions.

When Yu Yao set out to purchase groceries, she had forgotten her phone. Now, as Jiang Zhonglin activated the large wall-mounted screen in the living room and demonstrated how to change the channel, a realization dawned upon her.

“What do phones look like these days?”

With a subtle motion, Jiang Zhonglin detached a small black button from his watch strap, which then gracefully unfolded in his hand, transforming into a compact, palm-sized screen—an elegant testament to technological progress.

“Today’s smartphones serve as modern equivalents to traditional identification cards, bank cards, and various other credentials. They facilitate secure authentication, financial transactions, information browsing, and contact management—all within a single device. Moreover, they integrate functionalities once reserved for personal computers, enabling users to process information seamlessly,” he elaborated.

Yu Yao observed thoughtfully, “I expected the screens to be much larger.”

He responded with a smile, “You can customize the screen size yourself; I’m quite comfortable with it as it is.”

Demonstrating, he showed how the display could be enlarged or reduced at will. Ultimately, Yu Yao found a few features of the technology forty years hence that resonated positively with her. What she had disliked most in the past were the cumbersome stacks of certificates and documents, as well as the ever-growing, unwieldy mobile phones that had become burdensome and inconvenient.

“Tomorrow, I will assist you in obtaining your identification and residence permit, and afterward, I will purchase a new phone for you.”

“Oh,” Yu Yao responded softly, settling onto the sofa, picking up the remote control, and beginning to tinker with it.

Observing her slouched posture and her engrossment with the television remote—completely unaware of his presence—Jiang Zhonglin was reminded of days gone by when Yu Yao exhibited the same demeanor.

Back then, she was a passionate gamer, often losing herself in virtual worlds during her leisure time—a dedicated internet enthusiast.

He lingered nearby for a moment, like a gentle, helpless elder, and gently offered, “It’s been a long day for you. Perhaps tomorrow, when you’re more rested, you can familiarize yourself with this.”

She didn’t even look up, simply replying, “I can’t sleep.”

Faced with no other option, Jiang Zhonglin quietly excused himself, choosing not to disturb her. He returned to his room, and with a soft click, the door gently closed behind him.

Yu Yao paused, lifting her gaze toward his door, remaining silent and still for a long moment.

Without warning, a lively melody burst forth from the television, drawing her gaze toward the luminous, flickering screen. She sought out a familiar game she often indulged in, only to discover with disappointment—“The server is down.”

In truth, it had been inactive for twenty years. Frustration welled within her as she angrily kicked aside a sofa cushion. Desperate, she scoured the menu for other options; however, logging in required identification, which she currently lacked.

Unable to proceed, she reluctantly logged out and kicked another cushion in exasperation.

She examined her surroundings carefully, recognizing some familiar items that had persisted over time, yet they had all undergone transformations.

The majority, however, were no longer accessible.

The words “the world has changed, and people have changed” echoed in her mind, filling her with a profound sense of melancholy.

Suddenly, she paused, and her previously stern expression softened, revealing a flicker of joy. The beloved adventure novel, authored over a decade with intermittent updates, had kept her waiting from her high school days through marriage, with no resolution in sight.

She had believed she would never witness the conclusion of this story within her lifetime, yet a brief search revealed that it had, in fact, concluded ten years ago.

For the first time, she could see this long-anticipated tale draw to a close during her own years.

Yu Yao stayed awake through the night, finishing the book and reading the author’s final reflections—reminding people that all relationships eventually part ways, and that farewell is a constant, unfolding presence in our lives.

She released the controller, sank onto the sofa, and closed her eyes.

Jiang Zhonglin was still there, yet she felt as if she had already bid farewell to the Jiang Zhonglin she once knew.

Soon, she drifted into sleep on the sofa.

Moments later, Jiang Zhonglin quietly opened the door.

The person who should have been resting was still dressed in the same attire from earlier, showing no sign of fatigue. Gently, he approached Yu Yao, lifted the two cushions from the floor, turned off the TV, and, with careful effort, carried her in his arms.

“I’m old, I’m old,” he lamented, sighing softly.

When Yu Yao woke up in the morning, she found herself lying in bed in the living room. The blanket wrapped around her body comfortably.

As she sat in bed, she wondered if old man Jiang would still hold her.

She got up, brushed her teeth, washed her face, and headed downstairs. As she reached the bottom, she heard an unfamiliar old man’s voice coming from the living room.

“Hey, Old Jiang, do you want to go fishing with me today? My son will drive you right away. We’ll have lunch at the fish restaurant over there. I’ll have my son pick you up in the afternoon.”

Then she heard Jiang Zhonglin’s voice, “I’m not going. You go alone. I have something to do. I’ve been busy these past few days.”

The old man’s voice was loud and cheerful, sounding like a very cheerful old man. “Hey, what are you doing? You’re just doing research. You’re at home alone all day, working on all that stuff, your mind’s all messed up, and your body’s in worse shape than mine. I’m over 70.”

Jiang Zhonglin still spoke in his usual calm tone, “I really have something.”

“Then tell me, what’s the matter?”

Jiang Zhonglin didn’t answer.

“Look, you just don’t want to go.”

Yu Yao came down the stairs, and the sound of her footsteps caught the strange old man’s attention.

He turned around curiously and saw her coming down the stairs. Because the house only had Jiang Zhonglin’s clothes, she had put on one of his shirts and a pair of baggy shorts after taking a shower yesterday.

Not only were the old shorts and shirt ill-fitting, but they were also wrinkled when put on. She looked like she had just gotten out of bed, without shoes, her feet bare on the floor.

The old man was stunned when he saw this.

He was slightly surprised and stood there for a moment before turning to his old neighbor, “Old Jiang, why is there a little girl in your house?”

After he finished speaking, he suddenly realized, “Oh, she must be your cousin’s daughter, right? That’s very rare; I’ve never seen any of your relatives come to stay at your house before.”

Jiang Zhonglin didn’t know what to say. He stood up and brought Yu Yao a pair of slippers.

The strange old man watched with a grin and suddenly saw the young woman putting on the slippers that Old Jiang had taken from him.

Then she stepped forward and kissed Old Jiang on the cheek.

“Hello, my name is Yu Yao and I am his wife.”