What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 18

How could her suspected rival be an old lady? Why on this breezy and pleasant night, would she be walking by the lake with this suspected rival old lady?

Yu Yao guessed that the old lady wanted to say something to her, and her tone was very calm.

Grandma Cao seemed to think for a long time before she spoke.

The first sentence she said was, “I love my husband very much. Although he has passed away for decades, I still love him and miss him. In this regard, Jiang Zhonglin and I are the same kind of people.”

She turned her head and smiled apologetically at Yu Yao, “I just came to the farm tonight and heard what Old Nie said. I was worried that it would affect you and your husband. You have already had a hard time, and I don’t want to cause you any more trouble, so I took the liberty to come over and talk to you. In fact, I have wanted to see you for a long time.”

“Do you know me?”

She remembered that Grandma Cao recognized her immediately. So Jiang Zhonglin showed her a photo of her.

Grandma Cao said slowly, “Yes, I saw your photo. Jiang Zhonglin told us about you. My husband and I are former schoolmates of his. Many years ago, when we were young, we taught at the same place and that’s how we met. At that time, my husband and I had just married. We shared the same ideals and hobbies.

We met Jiang Zhonglin in Yunnan and Guizhou. He was alone and different from us. When we first met him, he wasn’t well. He was very thin and full of worries. Because my husband and I took good care of him, he called us brother and sister.”

Yu Yao had heard Yang Yun say that Jiang Zhonglin had volunteered as a teacher for several years in his youth. Since Yang Yun didn’t know the details, she limited herself to a few words.

When she saw that Grandma Cao seemed willing to describe everything in detail, she also listened attentively.

Grandma Cao looked at her, and her gaze softened, “At first, we didn’t know each other very well, so we didn’t know what was wrong with Jiang Zhonglin. Later, we got to know each other better and wanted to comfort him, but he was usually easy to talk to, but he never mentioned this matter. He was too attached, and sometimes that attachment is not a good thing. When people worry too much about something, they can have a very difficult life.”

Her expression was distant and subtle, “That year, there was an earthquake where we teach. The mountain collapsed, and heavy rain caused landslides. Most of the village was burned to the ground, and my husband died in the disaster. The three of us were trapped under the collapsed mountain for days. My husband was hit by stones and injured. He couldn’t hold on for three days, and eventually… he died in that dark cave. I was going crazy and wanted to go with him, but before he died, he told me to stay alive and get out. I was pregnant with my child, and I wanted that child to come and see the world. So I endured.

Among the three of us, Jiang Zhonglin was undeniably the most composed. To simply say he was calm would be to overlook the depth of his serenity; rather, it seemed as though life and death held little sway over him compared to us.

During the days of our prolonged wait for rescue, he finally confided in us about you—something he had refrained from sharing until my husband’s inquiry prompted him. He recounted the first time he met you, his subsequent transfer to another school, yet how the image of the girl who suddenly appeared lingered in his mind.

He described the second encounter—when he went to meet his cousin’s blind date—and how, upon recognizing you, joy illuminated his face. He told us of his hesitant request for your phone number, yet how fear kept him from calling, and of your first date and every subsequent one. He shared the moments when he met your parents, the day you married, and all that followed—the countless events and feelings that unfolded after your union. Throughout, he recounted every word and gesture of yours, revealing a world of emotion and history that he held close to his heart.

I must express my heartfelt gratitude for that moment. It was he who, with unwavering persistence, carried me—who was on the brink of death—and helped transport my husband’s body. Our entire family is forever grateful to him.” Grandma Cao’s eyes shimmered with tears as she spoke these words, conveying the depth of her appreciation.

“When he recounted the day you suddenly vanished without a trace, my husband and I both distinctly heard him cry. Having known him for many years, I can count on one hand the occasions he has been moved to tears—once when speaking of you, and another at his parents’ funeral.

In his early career, his published works were unjustly plagiarized, yet the legal battle ended in failure. Despite numerous hardships, he never once allowed tears to betray his resilience—such as when he broke his leg to shield his students during an outing. It is often said that “a man does not shed tears easily, but only when he is deeply hurt,” and his actions exemplify this truth.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes and said to Yu Yao, “Jiang Zhonglin only loves and cherishes you. There’s no doubt about it. Please believe me.”

“I know,” she said, feeling a chill on her face.

Grandma Cao sighed softly and wiped away the traces of her tears with a handkerchief.

An old woman and a young woman stood by the lake, each of them feeling sad as they thought of the men they loved so many years ago.

“Jiang Zhonglin has cared for us so much for so many years, so maybe that’s why you misunderstood. He doesn’t like to explain these things. He’s been busy with his studies and research for so many years. Very few people who know him know you, because he’s not good at talking to people. But the person in his heart is someone he can’t forget, just like I can’t forget my lover.”

Yu Yao gently inquired, “I asked him if he would feel sad after waiting for so many years. At that moment, he simply shook his head with a gentle smile. I’ve never truly known what he was thinking. Could you tell me?”

Grandma Cao responded tenderly, patting her hand with affection, “You haven’t waited for decades, so you can’t fully understand. It’s a kind of feeling that words cannot do justice to—something too intricate to describe. Imagine a person, countless days and nights, suddenly recalling someone—whether it’s longing or sorrow, happiness or despair—all those emotions intertwine and overwhelm the heart. Layers of feelings, all mingled together, are stored deep within. How could you possibly put that into words?”

Yu Yao felt as if an invisible weight was pressing on her chest, leaving her heart heavy and burdened.

When Grandma Cao said goodbye, her daughter came to carry her and help her walk along the lake.

She  watched the mother and daughter, one tall, the other short, leaning against each other from a distance. Their shadows stretched under the streetlights.

For a moment, a sentence she had seen somewhere flashed through her mind: That flower eventually withered on a dark night that her beloved would never experience.

…

After parting ways with a few friends, Jiang Zhonglin returned to the room and discovered Yu Yao already resting on the bed, her face concealed beneath the quilt as if asleep, with only a few strands of her dark hair peeking out from behind.

His voice softened instinctively as he turned off the lights, settling onto his own bed and quietly observing her side profile in the darkness.

He gazed at her for a moment before gently removing his coat, lifting the quilt, and settling in for the night. Yet, scarcely had he closed his eyes when Yu Yao suddenly threw back her quilt, sat upright with her hair tousled, and quietly approached his bed.

Without a word, she pulled open his quilt and slid inside.

Startled, Jiang Zhonglin, still awake, immediately awoke and propped himself up, switching on the wall lamp.

In the warm, amber glow, he saw his wife’s head resting softly against his chest—motionless, silent, her arms loosely entwined around his neck, embodying a quiet intimacy that spoke volumes beyond words.

He cast a gentle gaze toward the crown of her head, a mixture of embarrassment and awkwardness flickering across his face.

Yet, he was uncertain of what troubled Yu Yao, prompting him to softly inquire, “What’s wrong?”

She remained silent, seemingly having fallen into sleep, as if she intended to drift away in peaceful silence. However, Jiang Zhonglin found himself unable to rest.

Held tenderly in her embrace, he hesitated momentarily before raising a hand, and after a lingering pause, he gently rested it on her back, offering a comforting pat as one might soothe a child.

“Are you feeling unwell, hmm?”

Suddenly, he noticed that the fabric against his chest was damp, his surprise deepening.

With a tentative hand, he reached out to touch Yu Yao’s forehead, his voice tinged with concern as he asked, “Why are you crying? What happened? Did someone say something to upset you?”

Yet, she remained unresponsive, her sobs growing louder and more uncontrollable.

Jiang Zhonglin had often seen her with a gentle smile gracing her face, but since her return, she had shed tears multiple times. Today, unexpectedly and without warning, she broke into sobs while embracing him, a sight that deeply unsettled him.

The old man was momentarily at a loss, a heavy sigh escaping his lips.

As he moved to comfort her, her crying grew even louder, filling the room with her anguish.

With no other recourse, he gently patted her back in vain, whispering softly, “It’s all right, it’s nothing.”

Her sobs were so intense that they reached the neighboring room, prompting a knock at the door. Silently, Yu Yao withdrew beneath her quilt, seeking refuge.

Jiang Zhonglin quickly responded by opening the door.

Standing outside was a friend who spoke with quiet concern, “If there’s anything to discuss, please do so calmly. There’s no need for quarrels. Old Jiang, you should consider her feelings.”

Though feeling somewhat wronged, Jiang Zhonglin did not seek to defend himself but simply nodded in understanding. After the door closed, he sat at the edge of the bed, took a tissue, and reached to lift the quilt, his mind heavy with unspoken emotion.

Yu Yao tugged at the quilt to stop him from lifting it.

“Oh, don’t wipe it with the quilt.”

She rustled the quilt open, her voice a bit hoarse, “Who said I wiped it with the quilt?”

Jiang Zhonglin smiled and quickly took the opportunity to wipe her face.

After looking at her for a moment, he asked, “Did you hear anything from anyone?”

“Yes.”

“Are you angry with me?”

“If I were angry with you, I would have made you cry, not cried myself while hugging you.”

Jiang Zhonglin wanted to laugh when he heard her say that, but he was afraid that she would become extremely angry if he laughed, so he had to hold back his laughter.

He asked in a gentle voice, “Do you still want to cry now?”

“…”

He understood, “If you don’t cry, you will sleep?”

Yu Yao watched him walk towards the bed next to her, feeling that this marriage was about to end, and the old man was also over.

She sat on his bed, counting on her fingers.

Jiang Zhonglin walked to her bed, picked up the quilt, and met Yu Yao’s gaze, “One quilt is too small, I’m afraid it’s not enough.”

Yu Yao loosened her fingers. Fortunately, it’s not over yet, and there is still some to save.

She lay down, watching him tidy up the quilt and sleep beside her, “Do I turn off the lights?”

“Yes.”

The lights went out, and Yu Yao leaned her head on his shoulder, feeling that her heart, which had been pounding since she heard Grandma Cao’s words, finally calmed down. But at this moment, she felt Jiang Zhonglin’s body trembling, and then trembling again.

She asked curiously, ”What’s wrong with you?“

She heard him laugh, “…What are you laughing at?”

Jiang Zhonglin only felt worried and pitied his wife when he saw her crying just now. But then he suddenly remembered the rare expression on his wife’s face when he lifted the blanket, and he found it funny. And he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I told you, you’re done, right? What are you laughing at? Are you laughing at me?”

He forced a smile and replied with a look of despair, “I’m not laughing at you.”