What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 06

“Yaoyao, I’m so happy for Jiang Zhonglin that you were able to come back.”

Yu Yao raised her eyebrows, “I don’t think he’s very happy.”

Yang Yun was stunned, “What are you talking about? He should be incredibly happy to see you.”

Just as Yang Yun couldn’t understand Yu Yao’s reaction, Yu Yao couldn’t understand her words either.

As for how happy Jiang Zhonglin was to see her, she didn’t see it. For the past two days, he hadn’t shown any excitement or joy.

So she rubbed her forehead and said a little upset, “I dated him for a year, was married to him for a year, and was together for two years at most, but we’ve been apart for forty years now. I think he should have forgotten about me a long time ago. It’s expected that I’ll suddenly show up, and he’ll be more scared than surprised.

If it were anyone else, they would definitely consider me a nuisance, but Jiang Zhonglin was a responsible person when he was young, and he hasn’t changed now, so when he received the news, he followed me and took me home. After all, it was his character that made him do this.”

“What are you saying? Don’t you know how much he likes you?”

Yu Yao leaned back in her chair, uncertain, “He should have liked me before, but it’s been so many years. If he still remembers me, it’s only because he has a good memory. Where would his affection come from?”

Yang Yun looked at her and suddenly asked, “Didn’t he tell you anything?”

Yu Yao’s heart leaped for no reason, “What did you say?”

Yang Yun sighed, opened her terminal, clicked a few times, and then handed it to her, “Look at this, this is the largest missing persons website. It was created by the police when the big data network was being built in the early years. The missing persons information posted there is updated every year.

Since this website was established, your information has been hanging there for many years and has never been removed. Because it costs money to post information on it every year, many people who have searched for a year or two and haven’t been able to find anyone, and whose families have no hope, will withdraw the information. But Jiang Zhonglin has always insisted on posting your information here, and he still pays the fee every year. Do you know what that means?”

This meant that even after forty years, Jiang Zhonglin was still waiting for her return. Even after forty years, when everyone thought she was dead, he still held on to hope.

Yu Yao looked at her picture on the website and was completely stunned.

“He…Jiang Zhonglin, is still looking for me after all these years?” She asked in astonishment.

Seeing her like this, Yang Yun felt deeply sad, sad for this couple who had separated so long ago.

“Sure enough, you said you waited a little while at the service center, and the staff contacted him. They found your identity information very quickly because of your information being posted on this website.

When you suddenly disappeared, there was no trace. Jiang Zhonglin called everyone he knew to ask about your whereabouts, went to the police station to file a complaint, and asked his family and all his friends to keep an eye on your whereabouts. He did almost everything.

You don’t know, but he walked the streets and alleys near your house countless times, searching for you for a long time. During that time, he seemed to be preparing for the exam with his teacher, but after you disappeared, he didn’t return to school.”

Yang Yun vividly remembered Jiang Zhonglin, whose emaciated frame betrayed his physical weakness; the phrase “skin and bones” scarcely captured his frail condition.

Both she and her then-boyfriend were deeply concerned, frequently visiting him and inquiring about any news of Yu Yao.

On one occasion, they witnessed him collapse at his doorstep—his key still inserted in the lock—unable to open the door and fainting there. They promptly took him to the hospital, where he regained consciousness and burst into tears.

By that time, Yu Yao had been missing for over three months. Overcome with despair, Jiang Zhonglin begged them for advice, voicing fears that she might be dead, victimized by a murderer, her body concealed and forever lost.

Witnessing his despair, Yang Yun felt certain that he could not endure such anguish. Yet, gradually, he summoned inner strength, becoming markedly calmer. Though he continued tirelessly searching for Yu Yao and seeking connections, his demeanor no longer bore the weight of profound depression.

A year later, he returned to his studies, and Yang Yun believed he was recovering. However, she later realized that Jiang Zhonglin’s anxiety disorder persisted, unmitigated. In an attempt to manage his distress, he resorted to indiscriminate medication, nearly jeopardizing his health in the process.

“Wasn’t there widespread news at the time regarding women being harmed? He once confided that he feared you might become one of those victims. During those years, he struggled with severe anxiety symptoms.”

Yu Yao reflected on her sudden disappearance and how Jiang Zhonglin might have been deeply affected, but she never realized the extent of the pain her absence could cause him.

“And then… what happened next?” She asked softly.

Yang Jun paused thoughtfully before replying, “There was a period when I barely communicated with him. After completing his PhD, he dedicated nearly a decade to teaching in rural villages, traveling to many remote areas. We all believed it was his way of finding peace. Later, when he returned and invited us to dinner, he finally shared the true reason.

He explained that one day, he saw a news report about human traffickers abducting young women for sale in distant villages. The images haunted him, and he began having nightmares where you were kidnapped and trapped in darkness, with no one to save you. When he discovered a volunteer teaching program at the school, he inexplicably signed up, with his advisor not discouraging him.”

Upon Jiang Zhonglin’s return after several years devoted to teaching, Yang Jun scarcely recognized him. His complexion had darkened, his frame had become leaner, and his face bore the marks of time and weathered life’s hardships.

Yet, what remained a comforting sight was his renewed vitality; he spoke and smiled with the same warmth and spirit as before.

“Over these past few years, I’ve journeyed through many places,” he confided softly, “and I often wonder—what if I truly found her in those distant lands? What if I never do?”

The expression that crossed Jiang Zhonglin’s face as he uttered these words left an indelible impression on Yang Jun. By then, Yu Yao had been missing for more than a decade.

At that moment, Yang Jun was struck with a twinge of shame—though she still cherished her friend’s memory deeply, her own life had moved forward: she had a family, a husband, children. These responsibilities had gradually dulled her longing and concern for Yu Yao.

It seemed everyone else had embraced new chapters, yet Jiang Zhonglin remained tethered to the past, unable to let go.

As Yang Jun gradually recounted what she knew of Jiang Zhonglin’s journey over the years, her fragmented words painted a picture of a lonely figure lost across the vast span of forty years. Like a solitary wild goose migrating north and south through changing seasons, he was forever alone.

The ache and sorrow that seemed to stem from nowhere settled heavily in Yu Yao’s heart, manifesting as a piercing, needle-like tightness in her chest.

“Has he sought someone else?”

Yang Jun merely shook her head in response.

As Yu Yao reflected on her thoughts from the day before yesterday—her assumption that Jiang Zhonglin had long since remarried, perhaps even had children—she now realized the depth of his unwavering resolve.

His stubbornness surpassed what she had expected.

Tears welled up uncontrollably in her eyes, as if a dam had broken within her.

She was not one to cry easily; during her rebellious years, she believed in bleeding rather than shedding tears. As she matured, her attitude became more relaxed, and she approached life with a carefree spirit, valuing enjoyment above all.

Crying was rare for her, yet now, she found herself unable to stop, as if her tears were not for herself but for the man who had journeyed alone from youth to old age.

Yang Jun gently sat beside her, took out a tissue to wipe her tears—and her own—yet the tears persisted, flowing unabated from Yu Yao’s eyes.

“Oh dear, Yaoyao,” Grandma Yang Jun said softly, “please stop crying. Your eyes are all swollen. Just take a moment to rest, alright?”

Despite her repeated gestures to soothe herself, Yu Yao could not cease her tears, and her heart ached for her old friend’s unyielding spirit.

“Don’t cry anymore, everything is fine, you’re back, everything is fine. Take care of yourselves from now on.”

Yu Yao covered her mouth and closed her eyes, but tears still kept streaming from the corners of her eyes.

Thinking about Jiang Zhonglin’s feelings back then, she felt as if something was being torn apart, and bitterness was seeping through the cracks.

When they got home, Jiang Zhonglin was shocked to see her swollen eyes.

Surprised, he asked her, “What happened? Why are your eyes so red and swollen?”

“Hey, sit down first, I’ll get you a towel to wipe your face,” he said, wetting a towel and placing it over Yu Yao’s eyes.

Yu Yao’s mood had already calmed down, but when she saw him, she felt sad again.

Jiang Zhonglin asked her to sit down, brought some honey water, and said in a serious voice, “Sudden joy or sadness can easily harm your health. It’s okay to let off some steam, but you can’t continue to be so sad. Adjust your mindset, and things will get better in the future. If you’re not used to today’s society, we can help you. Don’t worry too much.”

He spoke softly, his eyes brimming with concern and unease.

Yu Yao held the cold towel in her hands, gazing at him thoughtfully, questioning inwardly: Is this serenity genuine? In the midst of their sudden, almost surreal journey through time—like a cruel joke—the most agonizing period for Jiang Zhonglin was undoubtedly after her disappearance, when he had endured the solitude alone.

Conversely, her greatest pain now lay in this forty-year void, marked by the sudden loss of loved ones. Yet, she was no longer alone.

Since her return, Jiang Zhonglin had approached her with the utmost tenderness, carefully guiding her to acclimate to this world—and to him—minimizing any burden placed upon her. The carefulness in his clasped hands revealed his thoughtful care. Is that truly the case? Is that how it appears?

That afternoon, Yu Yao remained unusually silent.

That evening, Yang Jun and Xu Xian suggested they stay at a nearby hotel, a decision Yu Yao accepted without objection; only she and Jiang Zhonglin remained at home.

Watching him clumsily set up the game she had purchased on the television—placing the controller beside her—Yu Yao observed his gentle efforts. When he moved to prepare dinner, she quietly followed him, watching as he washed rice in the kitchen.

“Jiang Zhonglin,” Yu Yao asked him as he stood in the kitchen doorway, “isn’t it sad to wait for someone for so many years?”

He paused in his rice-washing motion and turned to Yu Yao, slightly surprised. Then he smiled gently and shook his head.

His warm eyes shone tenderly. “No matter what it is, you get used to it.”

Yu Yao stared at him. “I thought you wouldn’t be happy that I suddenly appeared, but Yang Jun said you were happy. Is that true?”