What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 08

Yang Yun accompanied Yu Yao for several days before preparing to leave.

She and her husband had been assisting their youngest son in caring for his child. During their absence, the young one was entrusted to a nanny, which unfortunately led to the child’s illness, leaving Yang Yun and her husband deeply worried.

Furthermore, Yang Yun had been unusually excited these past days, and her own health was somewhat affected. Since her regular doctor was unavailable, Yu Yao kindly suggested they return home.

Feeling guilty, she grasped Yu Yao’s hand and promised, “We’ll visit again once the child is well, and spend more time with you.”

Yu Yao responded with a gentle smile, “There’s no need. You should focus on taking care of yourself and avoid unnecessary travel. If you miss me, we can always video chat. The technology is so advanced now that it feels almost as if I’m right there with you. I think that’s wonderful.”

Grandma Yang Yun pouted playfully, “Are you disgusted by my age?”

Oh, how adorable—she’s now a grandmother, yet when she pouted her lips, she resembled the playful little girl she used to be in kindergarten.

Some say that no matter how old a woman gets, she remains a child in front of her loved ones, and Yu Yao believes this is also true among close friends. Just look at Yang Yun—she still carries that youthful, spoiled spirit.

Yu Yao did not conceal her expression of disapproval, but instead said softly, “How could I? I don’t even harbor any dislike towards Old Jiang, so how could I possibly dislike my A’ Junjun?”

Yang Yun looked at her with a hint of reluctance before boarding the plane, “It would be wonderful if you could come to my house as a guest.”

However, that was not feasible at the moment, as Yu Yao was under a six-month observation period and unable to travel abroad during this time.

“Alright, once I am permitted to go abroad, I will come to visit you.”

Only then did Yang Yun’s expression brighten slightly, a faint smile touching her lips. As she was called away by her old man, she cast a lingering glance back at Yu Yao, her eyes filled with reluctance, as if she feared they might never meet again.

Watching her dear friend walk away, she pondered that Yang Yun was probably reminiscing about the day she vanished many years ago.

Not long before heading out to buy groceries, Yu Yao received a call from her. They had planned to see a newly released movie and do some shopping together—just like so many times before—but that was the day she disappeared.

Over the past forty years, Yang Yun had endured immense pain, alongside Jiang Zhonglin. Even if she didn’t constantly think of her, any memory of her undoubtedly brought a pang of sorrow, like a thorn piercing her heart.

“Wait for me, I’ll come see you soon!” Yu Yao suddenly called out.

She saw Grandma Yang Jun over there jump up and wave enthusiastically, as if she were overjoyed.

For the first time since her journey through time, she felt a genuine sense of gratitude.

Remarkably, the span she had traveled was only forty years—a brief window in the grand sweep of history. More importantly, Jiang Zhonglin and Yang Yun were still alive, offering her the precious opportunity to see them once more in this life.

She dared not imagine what might have transpired had her time travel extended further; by then, all those she cherished could have been reduced to mere memories, their remains resting in eternal silence, their lives forever lost to regret.

The thought of never seeing them again, not even once more before they faded away, was too poignant to bear.

“Let’s go somewhere first.” Jiang Zhonglin drove away from the airport.

“Where are we going?” She looked at him suspiciously.

He wouldn’t take her everywhere to reminisce about her youth like Yang Jun did, would he?

But Jiang Zhonglin’s intentions were different. He first stopped at the flower shop to purchase white chrysanthemums.

She understood the significance of this gesture and remained silent.

Instead of heading to a cemetery, they arrived at the monument dedicated to the martyrs in the city. Since it was not a special occasion, few visitors lingered there.

Yu Yao stood before the monument, and he gently handed her the white chrysanthemum.

He said softly, “My father-in-law didn’t have a tombstone, and his ashes are buried behind this monument.”

Yu Yao gazed at the imposing structure with a vacant expression, holding the flower in her hand without placing it on the monument for a long moment—lost in thought, touched by the quiet reverence of the moment.

“In the seventh year since your disappearance, he met his end during an operation aimed at apprehending criminals. His colleagues brought me the final words he left behind: ‘I have never committed any wrong in my life. I have fought tirelessly for my ideals and justice. People say I am a good policeman, but I do not take pride in that. Instead, I carry a deep sense of guilt, because in order to become such a good officer, I failed to be a good husband and father. Consequently, I have been separated from my wife and children all my life, and I see this as my just punishment. When I die, I do not wish to be buried with my wife and daughter—they may not want to see me.’” Jiang Zhonglin recounted.

She parted her lips, contemplating whether to respond with sarcasm about the man’s self-awareness, but as her gaze fell upon the cold stone tablet, she found herself speechless.

Memories of her childhood surfaced—how she once shared a close bond with her father.

During kindergarten, Yu Yao proudly told her friends that her father was a hero. Though he was often away, missing her school events and birthdays, her mother would soothe her by saying that her father was out saving lives like a superhero. This explanation helped her forgive his frequent absences, understanding that he was committed to a higher calling.

As she grew older, she came to see that her father was not the invincible hero she once believed him to be.

His outward deeds were often minor and lacked the grandeur to boast about. He was burdened with resolving disputes within the eastern family and managing losses on the western side. Even after removing his police uniform and returning home, he struggled to find true ease or be the steadfast pillar her family needed.

His eagerness to assist neighbors often took precedence over attending to his own family’s needs.

The first time Yu Yao felt a pang of disappointment toward her father was during her primary school years. She watched him help a neighbor, who was unrelated, to move a heavy gas tank, while her own family was also in the midst of changing theirs. Her frail mother, drenched in sweat, carried the tank up the stairs, step by step.

She wondered, “Can’t dad see that they also need his help?”

Though a small incident, such moments of neglect gradually built up, culminating in a profound tragedy—the death of her mother.

When Yu Yao was in junior high, her mother was pregnant with her second child. Her father was overjoyed and spent more time at home.

As Yu Yao attended school during the day and visited only once a week, she would sit beside her mother, gazing at her pregnant belly with anticipation, eagerly awaiting the arrival of her little brother.

In the days leading up to her due date, Yu Yao was extremely anxious, but her father said he would take a few days off to stay home and take care of her mother.

But what was the result? The result was that she returned home for the weekend and happily opened the door, only to see her mother’s dead body at first sight.

She had been dead for a day. Half of her body was covered in blood, and a long red trail stretched from the toilet to the living room.

Yu Yao could almost imagine how she had accidentally fallen into the toilet, how she struggled to crawl out while enduring the pain, and the thought of summoning help in the living room. However, her body wasn’t in a good state. She had probably fallen too hard.

After exhausting her strength, she failed to make the emergency call and died here in silence.

The schoolbag and keys in Yu Yao’s arms fell to the floor. She rushed over and touched her mother’s cold body, touching her large belly that was motionless.

She screamed at her like a madwoman, but she showed no reaction, didn’t smile sweetly, and didn’t call for her baby daughter.

With red eyes, she found her mother’s phone in the crevice of the sofa and called her father’s phone.

No one answered.

She called three times, crying before the call ended and she heard her father’s voice.

“Where are you?” Yu Yao asked through gritted teeth.

The voice on the other end of the phone was weary, tinged with exhaustion, and the background noise was tumultuous.

“What’s wrong? Are you home? I’ve encountered an urgent matter here that requires police intervention. I’ll be back tonight…”

Before he could finish, she cut him off sharply, her voice strained with emotion as she shouted, “Didn’t you promise to stay home and take care of mom? Didn’t you say you’d be there?”

At last, the person on the line grasped that something was terribly amiss, “What’s wrong? Is your mother in labor? Contact your grandmother immediately. I’ll come right away…”

Yu Yao hung up, her heart swelling with disdain.

She refused to endure another word from this man—this deceitful man, this liar who had taken her mother and younger brother from her forever.

Later, she reached out to her grandmother, and her eldest uncle arrived to handle the aftermath. Her mother had succumbed to excessive blood loss after falling into a coma, and her unborn baby boy had been suffocated.

When the man returned, he sank to his knees, tears streaming down his face. She watched him cry with cold indifference, refusing to call him “Dad.”

For years afterward, she never used that name; instead, she deliberately provoked his anger, ignored him, and refused to comply with his wishes.

Deep inside, she wished for his death.

Now it is finally true; he is truly gone.

Yu Yao fought back her tears, her feelings a tangled web she could not fully express. Suddenly, a gust of wind arose, rustling the leaves of the trees on either side.

With quiet resolve, she stepped forward, delicately placing the white chrysanthemums before the monument.

She spoke softly, “You dedicated your entire life to being a hero, and ultimately, you died fulfilling that dream. In a way, you achieved what you set out to do. I won’t judge your choice. I only hope you won’t have any regrets in the end.”

She knew he was a good man, but even in death, she could not reconcile with him—she would not return here again.

They each followed their own path, each with no regrets.

The next stop was the cemetery, a significant distance away from the monument. There were still many white chrysanthemums left in the car.

Though Jiang Zhonglin did not say a word, she nearly guessed whom he was taking her to see, and so she instinctively held the white chrysanthemums close to her chest.

Upon arriving at the site, her eyes first fell upon the collective tomb of Jiang Zhonglin’s parents. She gently placed flowers before them, addressing them as mom and dad, and bowed respectfully three times.

Jiang Zhonglin’s parents were an enlightened couple, possessing the distinctive aura of seasoned intellectuals—particularly Mother Jiang, whose warmth and kindness left a lasting impression on her.

Nearby lay her grandmother’s grave; she had been her cherished elder besides her mother. Following her mother’s passing, she chose to leave their family home, seeking solace in her grandmother’s house for half a year. Had her uncle and aunt not disapproved, she might have remained there longer. Her grandmother’s life ended due to illness during her high school years.

Adjacent to these graves were those of her mother and her own.

Jiang Zhonglin quietly observed her as she moved past the tombstones of her loved ones, ultimately pausing her gaze on her own resting place.

He softly remarked, “My mother-in-law and grandmother’s graves were relocated here by father-in-law when the old cemetery was moved. Your own grave was constructed by him five years after you went missing.”

He revealed that her father had erected a tombstone for her, yet it was only forty years later that he posted her missing person notice.

“I feel strange looking at this tombstone,” Yu Yao wiped away her tears and spoke as relaxedly as possible.

“I came here today not only to visit your relatives,” Jiang Zhonglin began softly, “but also to take the initiative to remove this tombstone.”

She responded with a casual shrug, “Why not keep it? We might need it later, after all.”

Jiang Zhonglin’s gaze fixed on her with a hint of gentle reproach, as if observing a child who spoke without fully considering the consequences.

His expression was earnest, and his tone carried a seriousness that underscored his words, “You shouldn’t speak so thoughtlessly.”

Yu Yao paused, reflecting on the young Jiang Zhonglin.

She imagined him frowning slightly, softly saying, “You can’t say that,” with a gentle tone.

Even in moments of frustration, he remained tender and kind, often laughing when teased, lacking any real menace. It was clear that as he has grown older, he has indeed become more resilient and formidable.