What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 14

Professor Jiang, who typically dines at the teacher’s lounge without the need for a meal card, had just finished class and accompanied a few colleagues and students to the cafeteria.

As he was about to ascend the stairs, he unexpectedly turned around and caught sight of a familiar figure standing by a window on the first floor.

Remarkably, he couldn’t quite explain how he managed to spot Yu Yao amidst the bustling crowd of the expansive cafeteria—navigating effortlessly through nearly half the gathering without any hesitation or doubt—and without a second thought, he approached her.

Observing her reluctance to part with her spicy hot pot, Jiang Zhonglin felt compelled to suggest this course of action. As he spoke, a hand gently reached over and tapped the card reader.

Turning to look, Yu Yao recognized one of the young men who had earlier been engaged in a lively discussion about Jiang Zhonglin “pulling aggro.”

They had not yet departed and, upon noticing Jiang Zhonglin’s predicament, had lingered nearby, eager to observe. Seeing their respected teacher struggling to borrow a meal card, they immediately stepped forward and graciously offered to swipe it for him.

“Just think of it as me treating Professor Jiang!” The young man was extremely embarrassed and quickly ran away with his friends.

Jiang Zhonglin shouted but failed to stop them.

“Forget it, I’ll ask the others later, they should know which class they are from,” he said, helping Yu Yao carry the spicy hot pot and leading her to the stairs.

His personality is like this, he never lets anyone treat him for nothing, but there is no need to say so much now, the others are still waiting for him.

The teachers and students of the Department of Literature standing at the stairs all stretched their necks to look at Professor Jiang, wanting to see who suddenly took the old man away.

They were chatting happily, when Jiang Zhonglin suddenly said, “Sorry, I’ll be right back.” He turned and strode into the crowd, surprising the others. They thought something had happened.

When they saw him stop at a window selling spicy soup and talk to a young woman, they realized he had seen an acquaintance. But what was it that excited Professor Jiang so much? He was always calm.

In front of seven or eight pairs of shining eyes, Yu Yao smiled at them from behind Jiang Zhonglin and greeted them with, “Hello.”

The others responded enthusiastically, “Hello, hello!” Then they all looked at Professor Jiang, waiting for him to introduce them.

But he didn’t say anything, just smiled and said to Yu Yao, “Let’s eat on the second floor, there are fewer people there.”

“Okay.”

Jiang Zhonglin inquired once more with genuine concern, “Is this all you’re having for lunch? Would you like to try something else?”

Yu Yao responded politely, “No need, this will suffice.”

He gently pressed further, “Is it too spicy?”

With a subtle glance, she replied, “No, it’s just a little spicy,” deliberately concealing her true feelings from the kind-hearted professor.

As the teachers and students accompanying Jiang Zhonglin observed his tender, patient questions, they couldn’t help but feel that this girl must be his own daughter—such attentive care seemed to suggest a close familial bond. Yet, none had ever heard of him having a daughter.

They exchanged silent guesses, each imagining the possibilities, until a young tutor recalled a recent conversation from a gossip group: a junior sister had mentioned meeting a girl at Professor Jiang’s home who was evidently cherished by him, leading to the suspicion that she might be his relative.

Perhaps, indeed, she was.

Seated comfortably on the second floor, the group placed their orders and awaited their meals.

As the aroma of the dishes began to waft through the air, Jiang Zhonglin had already opened the spicy hotpot and positioned it before Yu Yao. Realizing he had forgotten to bring chopsticks, he gracefully excused himself to the window, retrieved a set, and returned swiftly.

In his other hand, he carried a cup of steaming hot water, which he offered to her with gentle concern.

“Please, start eating first. Take a sip of water. If it becomes too spicy, you can always soothe your palate with some hot broth later,” he advised softly.

Turning to her with thoughtful care, he inquired, “Would you like me to order another bowl of steamed egg for you?”

Yu Yao reflected quietly that, as one grows older, one’s capacity to indulge and endure seems to deepen. Facing her seasoned husband, her thoughts drifted to her grandmother’s tender care during her visits.

She gently nudged him under the table with an affectionate smile, signaling him to be mindful of the curious eyes around them. Without hesitation, she began to savor the fiery hotpot, embracing the moment with confidence and grace.

Jiang Zhonglin seldom indulges in spicy dishes at home, and he had not savored such flavors in quite some time; a deep sense of longing for that fiery taste lingered within him.

The atmosphere among those present was one of quiet restraint; no one dared to inquire directly about Yu Yao’s identity, primarily out of reverence for Jiang Zhonglin’s esteemed status. As a senior figure—either a senior brother, sister, disciple, or disciple’s disciple—his authority commanded genuine respect, and without his lead, others refrained from speaking.

They could only observe his considerate gestures towards the other person, which exemplified humility and groundedness.

One young student, witnessing this scene, felt a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Normally hesitant to engage with Jiang Zhonglin, she now found herself sharing a meal in his company, listening to the distinguished guests converse with effortless ease. She dared not break the silence, her admiration growing as she looked upon him, whose modest demeanor left a lasting impression on her heart.

Although Jiang Zhonglin is remarkably kind-hearted and devoid of arrogance, she modestly refrains from overstepping boundaries in his presence. Observing him now seated beside the girl, engaging in a soft, warm conversation, with an air of homeliness and ease, she couldn’t help but feel her own tension easing, as if a barrier between them had diminished significantly.

It became clear that even someone of such stature, the esteemed leader, cares for his child with the same tenderness as any ordinary parent—an unspoken understanding that those present had long since recognized as innate and natural.

As the discussion shifted swiftly to today’s lesson and the topic slated for the afternoon, their attention shifted away from Yu Yao.

Only Jiang Zhonglin, whose rare words carried weight, listened quietly, his gaze remaining fixed on her situation.

He would speak only when addressed, and when he did, the others would turn their eyes toward him with a reverence that suggested he was revealing some profound truth.

This made Yu Yao feel a peculiar sense of unfamiliarity. The young man who once sat beside her, knees hugged tightly, sharing his struggles in silence, had now matured into a poised authority—one capable of guiding many.

In her childhood, she would instinctively want to ruffle his hair when she saw him looking so vulnerable, pushing him onto the sofa and tickling him, watching him burst into uncontrollable laughter as he scrambled away, clutching his waist. But now, witnessing his composed professionalism, his brilliance shining in his chosen field, and his calm dignity, she dared not attempt to tickle him.

Still, a part of her longed to see that youthful laughter once more.

When Jiang Zhonglin answered the students’ questions, he was brilliant, completely different from the way he attracted people when he was young, all thanks to his handsome looks.

The dishes were soon served and everyone began to eat.

Jiang Zhonglin first served her a bowl of hot soup.

Seeing her mouth red from the spiciness, he said to her, “Drink some hot soup to resist the spiciness.”

Yu Yao was still picking bean sprouts in the hot pot.

Hearing this, she whispered, “Professor Jiang, let me tell you a common sense of life. Drinking hot soup when it is spicy can burn you to death.”

He shook his head helplessly, picked up a spoon and stirred the soup for a while, preparing to cool it down manually.

Yu Yao really couldn’t stand it anymore. She felt that if she let him continue to do it alone, the students would stare at her.

So she wiped her mouth and said with a serious expression, “Professor Jiang, you don’t have to be busy. Let’s eat first. I have hands and feet and don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

Indeed, the two students seated at the table—both of whom had been mentored by Jiang Zhonglin —were visibly taken aback by his posture. Having accompanied him for several years, they had never seen him so visibly anxious about anyone, nor had they observed him managing every detail with such meticulous care.

In many ways, their Professor Jiang was known for his simplicity—content with whatever he ate or used, never displaying fussiness or preference. This, in turn, revealed that he perhaps lacked the instinct for nurturing others.

How, then, could the straightforward, academically dedicated teacher—who was not known for his attentiveness to personal care—suddenly exhibit such tenderness? If the girl had been a bit older, they might have even suspected that he was tenderly caring for his own girlfriend.

Such considerate and attentive behavior was typically reserved for moments shared with someone special.

A teacher in his forties chuckled lightly, “Professor Jiang is so attentive at home with his children that it’s no wonder his students are equally well cared for. No surprise that every year, so many students aspire to become his disciples.”

Sitting nearby, Jiang Zhonglin’s two genuine disciples experienced a complex mix of emotions: contrary to the impression of a caring teacher, the reality was quite different.

While he was approachable and easy to converse with, he lacked the innate ability to care for others. During research periods, he would become so engrossed that he would forget to eat or rest, and it was often they who had to gently coax him to take a break for a bite to prevent him from collapsing from exhaustion.

No one ever corrected the errors in their assignments, and Jiang Zhonglin’s forgetfulness extended into daily life—he often overlooked the needs of his students when immersed in his thoughts. When he finally remembered, guilt would wash over him for neglecting them, prompting him to assign numerous tasks in an effort to demonstrate his concern.

In essence, they had never experienced such meticulous and sincere care from any other teacher.

Reflecting on the moment, a hint of envy flickered in their eyes. The two men in their fifties exchanged quiet sighs, yet their expressions remained composed, adorned with mature smiles. After all, their students were present, and preserving the esteemed image of their teacher was paramount.

To uphold Jiang Zhonglin’s reputation as a distinguished educator within the school, Yu Yao chose to remain silent, deliberately refraining from revealing her identity.

Jiang Zhonglin, understanding her desire to continue exploring at Hainan, decided not to disclose her background; revealing her might have attracted an influx of onlookers, making it difficult for her to enjoy her activities freely.

Once the meal concluded, Yu Yao gave a satisfied pat and prepared to leave, intent on returning to the library to immerse herself further in her studies.

Unbeknownst to her, he was unaware of her intentions.

As she prepared to depart, he hesitated briefly before calling out gently, “I have classes this afternoon. Would you mind waiting for a little while? I’ll be free in an hour and a half, and I’d be delighted to show you around the university.”

The expressions of those standing behind him revealed a mixture of emotions—though they dared not voice them outright, their hearts were not entirely at ease.

An hour and a half—does that truly suffice? Professor Jiang, have you perhaps forgotten the student question-and-answer session scheduled after class? And isn’t it true that you often stay past the third period in the afternoon? Wake up, dear Professor Jiang—your dedication and attentiveness are evident! Just look into the students’ eager eyes, hungry for knowledge and inspiration.

Yu Yao saw the complicated expressions on the faces of the people behind him. At that moment, she felt like a concubine who had charmed the emperor and made him neglect his duties.

She couldn’t help but smile. “…Next time, I’ll read in the library. I’ll come back to find you when you’re done.”