What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 23

Listening to that part, it felt like a pretty normal trip, and Yu Yao asked, “And then?”

“Then I came back.”

She went quiet. Since Jiang Zhonglin brought it up first, something must’ve happened, right? But if nothing did, why mention it at all?

What she didn’t know was that the light white feather and the words from that strange old man had nearly saved the young man with the tired look on his face. He held onto that feather by Tianhu Lake beneath the snow-capped mountain, like it was his last glimmer of hope.

He kept it safe because of that line, and even now, the feather was still with him.

Suddenly, Yu Yao had a lightbulb moment and asked, “Is that feather still around?” As she spoke, she thought it had been ages and it must be long gone.

To her surprise, Jiang Zhonglin replied, “Yes.”

After that, he got up, turned on the light, and started searching through the study. A moment later, he returned with the long white feather.

Yu Yao held it up to the light, feeling a mix of amusement and surprise, “You can’t be serious! How long have you kept this feather? How is it still here?”

She thought maybe Jiang Zhonglin really was that sentimental, hanging onto something so ordinary for so long.

He watched Yu Yao twirl the feather between her fingers, “This feather is for you.”

“You’re giving it to me?”

She got up, set the feather on the bedside table, pressed it down with her hair tie, and then opened her personal terminal to click on the app Yang Yun had shown her earlier.

“Hold on, I’ve got something for you too,” she said, pulling up the interface, locating the item bar, and dragging out a huge bunch of flowers.

You could toss in all sorts of stuff—cups, plates, watermelon slicers, even stinky dog poop—and, of course, flowers. This app had two main uses: fighting and spreading love.

So Yu Yao showered Old Jiang with a ton of flowers, and the lifelike holographic projection turned their bed into a floral paradise, practically burying him under a mountain of blooms.

Jiang Zhonglin, who was seeing this app for the first time, was still in shock, with flower petals adorning his head.

Seeing his bewildered expression, Yu Yao couldn’t help but collapse onto the bed, laughing.

He watched his wife’s joyful smile and felt a little grin creep onto his face.

He suddenly realized that connecting with his young wife wasn’t as tough as he’d thought. Sharing a bed didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Maybe it was because, to her, he wasn’t just some old guy who needed to be handled carefully, nor was he an elderly scholar to be revered; he was simply her husband, Jiang Zhonglin, a blend of both youth and age.

“So, where else have you been?” Yu Yao asked, leaning on her side, propping her head up to get a better look at him.

“I visited your province, went to this really remote mountain village. It’s deep in the mountains, almost cut off from everything. The villagers live up on these steep peaks, and the paths are super dangerous. To get to the county, they have to hike down for five hours and then take a bus for another two. It’s tough for the kids to get to school. I spent some time there with just one other teacher, teaching the kids Chinese and math…”

Yu Yao listened quietly, picturing his youthful adventures in far-off places.

She could see him scaling steep mountain trails, sharing stories of the world beyond with kids in those remote villages. Maybe he found a kind of peace in that tough yet simple life, discovering deeper meanings among the quiet forests and the joy of children learning to read.

He’d met all sorts of people, learning about their diverse lives. Each person had their own mix of joys and sorrows, and in the grand scheme of things, everyone’s struggles seemed small and trivial.

“…I’ve been to Sichuan Province too. A few friends from there invited me over, but I didn’t stay long. The scenery is stunning, with flowers blooming all year round. It’s bustling with people, and the vibe is so lively. Folks rise early, and whether they know each other or not, they gather to eat and chat together…”

It was a shame he couldn’t quite get used to the local food. After a while, his stomach just couldn’t handle it. He thought Yu Yao would probably love it there.

“…One year, I traveled to Xinjiang for a student. His family was struggling, but he was a bright kid, eager to learn. He had to drop out suddenly to take care of his sick mother. I went to see him after hearing the news. I searched for their tents and sheep across the vast, open pastures. He was just a kid, but he had to shoulder so much responsibility. It was tough. I spent a week with them, waking up at dawn every day to help him move the sheep between the pastures…”

The biting cold wind, the constant struggle for supplies, and the dull, monotonous life—only the rare moments of free time seem to shine through. There’s the child holding his little sister, and the two siblings singing loudly to greet the rising sun, all while surrounded by vast, endless loneliness.

“I spent three years in Hong Kong. One of my teachers was at Hong Kong University, and he asked me to come over and lend a hand. I lived a pretty tough and miserable life for a while, but that teacher really helped me out. He shared so much knowledge with me and taught me a lot about being a good person. I’d been to several remote places before, where life moved at a snail’s pace, but Hong Kong was bustling and vibrant, and it took me quite a while to get used to it…”

Back then, he was squeezed into a tiny room that felt more like a storage unit. Sometimes, he’d find himself feeling a bit lucky, thinking it was good that Yu Yao wasn’t around at that moment.

“…there’s this county on the border of Shanxi and Shaanxi provinces, home to an ancient village steeped in history…”

As Yu Yao drifted off to sleep, lulled by his smooth storytelling, she found herself wondering if Jiang Zhonglin had really traveled all over the country. The notion of forty years that had flickered through her mind was stretching out under his tales, becoming an almost distant reality.

He had visited so many places, and whether he was with friends, colleagues, teachers, students, or even alone, all the people and experiences he encountered were a mystery to her.

What a shame.

A new day kicks off with a dose of morning sickness.

As soon as she got out of bed, Yu Yao was brushing her teeth when a wave of nausea hit her.

Jiang Zhonglin stood in the doorway, worry etched on his face. He wasn’t too familiar with this whole pregnancy thing, so he dove into a mountain of online resources, treating it like a serious research project.

While Yu Yao sipped on some plain porridge, barely able to stomach it, she could hear him chatting on the balcony again. He was probably on the line with a doctor about her morning sickness.

On the other end was one of his students, now a doctor. He patiently answered Jiang Zhonglin’s questions, but since he wasn’t an obstetrician-gynecologist, he could only refer him to a trusted friend who specialized in that area.

The obstetrician was a friendly-looking guy in his forties, a bit on the heavier side, with a round face and small eyes that turned into crescent moons when he smiled. He had a warmth about him that was hard to miss.

“Morning sickness is totally normal during pregnancy,” he said. “I can prescribe some meds to help ease it, but it’s best not to overdo it. The key is to stay positive, avoid stress and anxiety, and get your vitamins. I can hook you up with some prenatal vitamins too, and make sure to eat plenty of fruits.”

After a bit of gentle nagging, the doctor chatted with Jiang Zhonglin about other related topics. He seemed really curious about the connection between him and Yu Yao, but he held back from asking.

Still, Yu Yao couldn’t shake the feeling that the chubby doctor was sneaking glances at her, like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

As Yu Yao was about to head out, she couldn’t help but ask him, “Dr. Chen, is there anything you want to know?”

Dr. Chen scratched his head, looking a bit sheepish, and smiled, “I’m not really sure what it is, but you seem really familiar. It’s like I’ve seen you before, but I just can’t place it.”

She thought it was pretty impossible for Dr. Chen to know her. After all, she had vanished for forty years, and she hardly had any friends left. Plus, this doctor was only in his forties—when she disappeared, he was probably just a little kid.

Then it hit her.

She suddenly focused on Dr. Chen’s face, and the more she looked, the more she noticed a certain familiarity about that round face, especially when he smiled in that genuine, straightforward way.

She didn’t say anything right then and just gave him a casual goodbye. But as she and Jiang Zhonglin left the hospital and headed home, she couldn’t stop staring at Dr. Chen’s electronic business card, which read Chen Wenrui.

Noticing her odd expression, Jiang Zhonglin asked, “What’s up?”

Yu Yao managed a small smile and showed him Dr. Chen’s card, feeling a mix of emotions, “You remember that chubby kid named Chen Wenrui from the class I taught before I disappeared? I think I’ve mentioned him to you.”

Back in those days, her kindergarten class had thirty kids, and Chen Wenrui was definitely the heftiest. He was like a soft little dumpling that everyone could pick on, and he would always end up crying, needing several teachers to comfort him.

“You know that little chubby kid from my class? His mom was always busy with work. He had a bit of a cold back then, and even though she got him some medicine, he just wouldn’t take it. His mom asked us teachers to help him out, so I decided to get some sugar that looked like the meds. I gave each kid a piece, and the one for the chubby boy was the actual medicine. When he saw everyone else munching on theirs, he figured he’d give it a go too, thinking it was sugar. It worked like a charm every time.”

Jiang Zhonglin couldn’t help but chuckle at that memory. Yu Yao, who taught at the kindergarten, always shared the funny or awkward moments with the kids when she’d come back to him.

“If that kid really turned out to be the chubby one, then this world is way too small,” she said, playfully poking Dr. Chen’s round face on her electronic business card.

That little fat kid who barely reached her knees just two months ago had somehow transformed into a middle-aged man who’s actually older than her now.