What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 27

As soon as Jiang Zhonglin’s class came to a close, the internal forum of Hainan University’s Literature Department erupted into a frenzy of discussion about the enigmatic young woman who had suddenly appeared. Within ten minutes, the buzz had reached a fever pitch, with a group of students going wild.

That’s when a senior student, who had graduated years ago and was now working with their tutor on academic projects, quietly emerged and dropped a bombshell—confirming the true identity of the mysterious woman.

The revelation was explosive, “That’s the teacher’s wife, Professor Jiang’s wife—the one he’s been married to for over forty years.”

The students were stunned, their minds struggling to wrap around the fact that their teacher’s wife, who looked ridiculously young, was actually over sixty years old. The news sparked a mix of shock, awe, and curiosity, with the students eager to dive deeper into the mystery.

Just as they were about to spiral into a frenzy of speculation, a senior sister shared a news article that had caused a stir some time ago.

The headline read, “The Fifth Time Traveler—A 28-Year-Old Woman Who Traveled 40 Years.” She didn’t add any commentary, but the implication was clear.

It was common knowledge that Jiang Zhonglin had been married, and that his wife had either died or vanished forty years ago. The unspoken question hung in the air—could it be that his wife was, in fact, a time traveler, and that her youthful appearance was more than just a remarkable coincidence?

As the students of the Literature Department dug deeper and got the scoop from their seniors who were in the know, they became convinced that this freaky time-travel incident had gone down with someone in their midst, but they had been totally clueless about it until now.

Jiang Zhonglin had kept it ridiculously under wraps. If this crazy accident hadn’t blown the lid off everything, they’d still be none the wiser.

“Let’s keep this on the down low, okay? The main thing is to avoid sharing any info or pics of Professor Jiang’s wife, since he has got a confidentiality agreement in place. If anyone intentionally leaks specifics about his wife, like her name, address, or any photos and videos, it’s getting deleted pronto. And let’s be real, Professor Jiang’s got the right to sue anyone who tries to exploit this for their own fame. I was on this year’s lit trip, and I saw his wife—at the time, Professor Jiang pulled us aside and asked us to keep her identity on the low, hoping she could live a peaceful life without all the drama.”

Some emotional literature student saw the senior’s post and couldn’t help but imagine the intense feelings of their ultimate crush, who’d lost and found his soulmate, only to be faced with the fact that she hadn’t aged a day.

The student just lost it, exclaiming, “This is just too tragic—my male god must be going through so much pain!”

“Right, I know, when I put myself in his shoes, it’s just heartbreaking. I mean, Professor Jiang must’ve been head over heels in love with his wife, and the fact that he didn’t remarry for 40 years says it all. And can we talk about how gentle and loving Professor Jiang looked at his wife when she appeared? I swear, I’m getting all teary-eyed just thinking about it!”

The elder sister chimed in once more, “You’re absolutely right, Professor Jiang is incredibly sweet to his wife. I recall this one time when we all went on a trip to the farm—his wife joined us in picking oranges, and when she turned her back, Professor Jiang just stood there, quietly holding the orange she’d given him, with this adorable, unconscious smile plastered on his face. Later, when his wife decided to climb the tree to grab some more oranges, Professor Jiang was literally worried sick—he kept glancing up at the tree, looking like he desperately wanted to ask her to come down, but was too afraid of upsetting her.”

The news spread like wildfire, and as a result, not a single student could calm down enough to focus on Jiang Zhonglin’s second online class. Loads of students were secretly browsing the forum, and a bunch of the girls just couldn’t help but tear up whenever they looked at him—they had no idea what he was even talking about.

Meanwhile, Professor Jiang himself, the man at the center of it all, remained super calm and just kept on teaching like nothing had happened.

Towards the end of the class, he pushed his glasses up, turned on the projector, and gazed out at his students, who all immediately sat up straight and pretended to be super invested in the lesson.

In this gentle tone, he told them, “Make sure to write a summary of today’s class after we’re done here.”

The students, who hadn’t been paying attention at all, were initially shocked, but then they chilled out, thinking gratefully that the class had been recorded, so they could just catch up later.

But then Jiang Zhonglin dropped a bombshell, “By the way, this class isn’t being recorded.”

The students were left stunned, thinking, “What the heck? Professor Jiang isn’t the type to leave us high and dry, is he? Why didn’t he give us a way out, the sly thing?”

After he gave everyone a nod and a smile before closing the course link, the students were still reeling in shock.

It took a while, but eventually, a student spoke up, staring blankly at his terminal as he said, “Someone’s tearing into Professor Jiang on the general forum.”

Instantly, everyone turned to him, then whipped out their own terminals, eager to join the fray and defend their teacher.

Homework could wait, after all.

As the Hainan University forum erupted into chaos over the whole Teacher Jiang debacle, Jiang Zhonglin was chilling on the sofa beside Yu Yao.

She turned away from the TV and asked him, “You’re sure no students were actually paying attention in class, right?”

Jiang Zhonglin nodded, “Yeah, they weren’t taking it seriously, so I hit them with some homework and told them to write a summary of the class.”

She burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling with amusement, “Ugh, I used to hate teachers like that the most—they’re the worst! Assigning homework at a time like this, what a total troll move!”

As Jiang Zhonglin chuckled and shook his head, a sigh escaped his lips, “These kids are ridiculously smart, but they just can’t seem to sit still and focus for more than a second.”

Yu Yao’s expression turned worried, her mind racing with the what-ifs, “What’s going to happen if these tiny geniuses can’t even finish their homework?”

The old gentleman had a mischievous glint in his eye, a rare sight to behold, and his innocent blink only added to the charm, “I didn’t exactly overload them with homework, I just gave them a few extra classes to keep them on their toes. And let’s be real, there wasn’t any homework to begin with, so it’s not like it’s the end of the world if they can’t finish it.”

But deep down, he knew these kids looked up to him, and it was only a matter of time before they’d be scribbling away, desperate to recall every word that came out of his mouth.

Next time around, they’ll learn to listen up and save the discussions for after class, because let’s face it, you can’t have your cake and eat it too.

Meanwhile, as the Hainan University forum was blowing up with drama and rumors, Jiang Zhonglin was blissfully unaware, too busy enjoying dinner with his wife. His stomach had been giving him trouble lately, a reminder of the chaos that was his early years, and the doctor’s words still echoed in his mind—chew slowly, take your time. So he savored each bite, watching Yu Yao devour her third bowl of rice with a mix of amusement and envy.

Maybe it was the company, but the mundane food in front of him had suddenly transformed into a culinary masterpiece.

He used to eat alone every day, and the food would just sit there, tasteless and unappealing. But now, with someone to share it with, everything seemed to have a newfound flavor.

“Honestly, your cooking still has a long way to go,” Yu Yao said with a hint of criticism, her words punctuated by the crunch of a piece of purple cauliflower she was snacking on.

It had taken her a few months to finally speak up, but she just couldn’t hold back any longer.

Mother Jiang had always told Jiang Zhonglin that a good husband should cook with his wife, so when he first married Yu Yao, he had made an effort to learn new recipes and hone his culinary skills. However, after Yu Yao left, he found himself eating out or ordering takeout most of the time, and his cooking skills had fallen by the wayside. It wasn’t until recently, when he had settled into a more stable routine, that he started cooking for himself every day.

As a single person, his cooking skills had been just enough to get by, and he hadn’t really cared about improving them. But now, with Yu Yao’s candid feedback, he couldn’t ignore the fact that his cooking needed work.

It seemed that after years of neglecting his own cooking skills, he was still determined to keep practicing and wouldn’t let himself get lazy.

As they wrapped up their evening routine and headed to bed, they decided to browse for new recipes on their terminal. That’s when they stumbled upon a post on the Hainan University’s forum, where a group of people were actively debunking some rumors that had been circulating.

It was a group of exceptional alumni from the Literature Department who took it upon themselves to set the record straight in a rumor-busting post. They laid out the facts and consequences of the incident, shedding light on the whispers circulating around campus about Professor Jiang Zhonglin’s time-traveling wife.

The rest of the post was a stern warning, written in bold capital letters, cautioning against revealing any information about Jiang Zhonglin’s wife, gawking, or spreading rumors.

Initially, the students following the post were left reeling by the twists and turns of the story. As time passed, more and more faculty members and department heads began to chime in, until finally, the university president’s ID appeared in the comments.

“Professor Jiang is a distinguished professor at our institution, renowned for his impeccable character and academic excellence,” the president stated, his tone unusually somber. “As a respected scholar both within our school and nationwide, I implore everyone to respect his private life and refrain from disturbing him without his consent. I also hope that our students will approach this matter with rationality, empathy, and understanding.”

It was a rare display of seriousness from the president, who’s typically more known for his affection for cats—to the point where they almost seem to be taking over the campus.

As the online discussion finally began to wind down, with countless people checking in and the conversation showing signs of coming to a close, an unlikely duo emerged from the night— an elderly couple who just couldn’t seem to catch some shut-eye.

They had been browsing through recipes, and Yu Yao’s curiosity got the better of her, sparking a craving for a midnight noodle feast. Jiang Zhonglin, her partner in crime, joined her on this culinary adventure, despite her protests that he should get some rest. Eventually, she relented, handing him a small portion of the noodles she had whipped up.

As Yu Yao savored her handmade noodles, she couldn’t help but express her disappointment—they just didn’t hit the spot.

It was no secret that her cooking skills were on par with Jiang Zhonglin’s, and it seemed they were both stuck in a culinary rut. But as her appetite grew, so did her standards, and she found herself becoming increasingly particular about the food she ate.

The couple decided then and there that they would join forces, starting the next day, to tackle the recipe book and take their cooking to the next level.

Yu Yao, holding the recipe like a battle plan, declared, “Let’s be real, we’re starting from scratch, so when the baby arrives, I’m betting my cooking skills will have surpassed yours by a mile.”

Jiang Zhonglin, with a pinch of Chinese cabbage in hand, nodded in solemn agreement, “You’re absolutely right.”

As Yu Yao undid the apron strings digging into her waist, she shot a withering glance at the old gentleman standing beside her.

“What’s with the total lack of competitive fire in your belly?” She taunted, her words hanging in the air like a challenge.

Jiang Zhonglin’s expression was a mask of calm, but it seemed like he was being dragged into a rivalry for no apparent reason—and yet, he couldn’t recall ever saying they were in competition. Still, he knew that young people like her thrived on this kind of energy.

Their eyes met, and for a moment, his wife’s gaze seemed to spark something within him.

A flicker of determination danced across his face, and he muttered, “Fine, I’ll give it my all. I won’t back down.”

Yu Yao had pegged him as the type to throw in the towel at the first sign of trouble—a man who’d meekly accept his fate and lack the drive to push back. It seemed that if she wanted to elevate their cooking game, she’d have to take matters into her own hands, because relying on Old Jiang and his penchant for stir-fried bok choy and steamed pumpkin just wouldn’t cut it.

But as they strolled through the neighborhood that evening, she caught Jiang Zhonglin chatting up the elder sisters about cooking techniques, and later, she spotted him hunched over a cookbook in the study, painstakingly handwriting notes.

Her curiosity got the better of her, “What’s with the manual labor? Why not just use the electronic recipe?”

Jiang Zhonglin looked up, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief, “I’m strengthening my memory. The electronic version is too convoluted—I’m extracting the key points, simplifying the process.”

His handwriting was a work of art, with beautiful fonts and meticulous notes that seemed to hold the secrets of the culinary world. As he paused to ponder, it was clear that he was on a mission to distill the essence of cooking into something truly remarkable.

Yu Yao felt a pang of defeat wash over her. It was just cooking, for crying out loud—why was he approaching it like a academic research project?!

The old man in her life, it turned out, was not lacking in fighting spirit; he was, in fact, overflowing with it.