What Should I Do If I Time-Traveled Forty Years Later and My Lover Has Become an Old Man? - MLFYL: 31

As the year drew to a close, the chill in the air became increasingly biting. Yet, even after four decades, the New Year’s festival still held the same significance it always had.

Yu Yao couldn’t help but notice that gift-giving seemed to be on the rise lately. With the school’s winter break in full swing, the community was teeming with young people.

“Are we really getting a head start on buying New Year’s stuff?” She asked nonchalantly. “I mean, Sister-in-law Nie and Grandma Yu have been prepping for a month already. What about us? Did you used to spend the New Year alone here in previous years?”

Jiang Zhonglin, cozy in his pullover sweater, was engrossed in a book, the warmth inside allowing him to relax.

He slowly lifted his head, responding to her inquiry, “Most of the time, I’m on my own. During the Spring Festival, some students drop by to pay their respects. My cousin’s still around, and we catch up to celebrate the New Year, but with his big family, I don’t often get to join in.”

She listened intently as he finished speaking, nodding thoughtfully, “Oh, I guess we’ll be spending the New Year at home this year, then. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to prep, just stock up on veggies, grab some extra fruit, candy, and snacks, you know, in case some kids come knocking… We should still put up those Spring Festival couplets, right? I saw Sister-in-law Nie picked up two pots of these adorable small kumquats—want to grab some and stick them in the living room?”

Jiang Zhonglin took a moment to respond, “If you’re into it, go for it.”

He’d never really paid much attention to these details in the past, just throwing up a couplet to mark the occasion. But now, with Yu Yao showing interest, he was more than happy to indulge her.

Yu Yao’s instincts were screaming that something was off, so she set her e-book aside and turned her attention to him, who was engrossed in a book on the other side of the room.

A look of concern crossed her face as she asked, “What’s going on with you? You’ve seemed kinda out of it since you woke up this morning. Are you feeling unwell or something?”

Jiang Zhonglin took his sweet time turning the page, and when he finally responded, his tone was laced with confusion, “No, I’m fine.”

Her frown deepened as she scrutinized him.

She got up and walked over to him, her eyes fixed on his face. Without saying a word, she gently placed her hand on his forehead, her eyebrows furrowing even more as she felt his temperature.

She quickly grabbed the thermometer and took his temperature, the reading showing a fever of 38.7 degrees.

She let out a soft “tsk” as she sat down in front of him, adjusting his glasses before holding the thermometer in front of him, “Come on, Mr. Jiang, take a look at this. You still think you’re not running a fever?”

Jiang Zhonglin glanced at the thermometer, but his expression barely changed.

He closed his book, “I just felt a bit lethargic, that’s all. I didn’t realize I had a fever. I’ve got some meds at home, so I’ll just take a couple of pills.”

As he stood up to get a glass of water and take his medicine, Yu Yao was struck by how nonchalant he was about the whole thing. He seemed completely oblivious to the fact that he was sick, moving with the same quiet confidence he displayed when washing fruit for her.

Her eyes snapped back into focus, and she let out a soft “hey” as she threw the thermometer onto the sofa.

She quickly grabbed his clothes, her voice firm but gentle as she said, “Have you taken your medicine? Good, now come here.”

As she dragged him into the room, the quilt was hastily spread out, and he was gently pushed onto the bed.

While fiddling with the thermostat to get the temperature just right, she instructed him, “Kick off your shoes and ditch those clothes—get some rest. If that fever of yours hasn’t subsided by this afternoon, we’re making a trip to the hospital, no questions asked.”

Jiang Zhonglin didn’t put up a fight. Instead, he settled into the edge of the bed, slipped off his shoes and coat, and carefully removed his glasses, his movements almost automatic, like he was getting ready for a routine night’s sleep.

As he lay down, he reassured her, “I’ll be back to normal after some meds and a nap. Don’t stress about me, and don’t bother making lunch—just order takeout or whip up something for yourself. Weren’t you saying that stewed soup from last time was pretty decent?”

Yu Yao’s anger was palpable, but it only seemed to amuse her, and she let out a wry laugh.

She plopped down on the edge of the bed, her arms crossed, and shot back, “You should be more aware of your condition—you’re a patient now, so rest up. And yet, you’re still worried about what I’m having for lunch? I can take care of myself anywhere, anytime. But what about you? How did you not even notice you were running a fever of over 38 degrees? Didn’t you feel anything?”

Maybe sensing the tension simmering beneath her forced smile, Jiang Zhonglin decided to keep quiet, opting to simply lie there and look at her with a hint of pitifulness in his eyes.

Her expression softened, and she tucked him in, her voice a little gentler, “Get some rest, and don’t worry about a thing.”

His eyes drifted shut, and he let out a soft sigh, surrendering to the exhaustion that had been weighing him down.

As Yu Yao sat silently by the bed, she waited for him to drift off to sleep, but when he didn’t stir, she got up to fetch some hot water from the kitchen, filling his thermos cup to the brim. She returned to the room, settling into the chair beside the bed with her e-book, ready to keep watch over the old man as he slept.

But as she attempted to read, she found her mind wandering, unable to focus on the words on the screen—after flipping through a couple of pages, she realized she had no recollection of what she’d just read.

Her gaze kept drifting back to Jiang Zhonglin, who lay motionless on the bed.

She gave up on her e-book, closing it and opting for a game on her device instead, but even that couldn’t hold her attention, and she soon found herself shutting it down.

Her eyes instinctively returned to him, and this time, she was startled to find him staring back at her, his eyes open and alert.

Suddenly, her tone turned sharp, “What’s taking you so long to fall asleep?” She asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.

Jiang Zhonglin’s response was calm and reassuring, “You don’t need to stay here, it’s just a minor fever.”

But she wasn’t having it, and reached for the hot water, “Do you want a drink before you sleep?”

He declined, “Just leave it there, I’ll take care of it myself when I’m thirsty. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Yu Yao poured a cup of hot water anyway, remarking, “You’re being really stubborn when you’re sick, you know that?”

His response was unexpected—a low, rumbling laugh, and a teasing comment, “You’re the one who’s always been naughty when you’re sick.”

His words sparked a memory in her, and for a moment, she was lost in thought.

Before they tied the knot, she had fallen ill once, and at the time, they were still in the midst of a blossoming romance.

Jiang Zhonglin would address her by her full name, his tone laced with politeness, and he’d escort her home, his face flushing a deep red whenever she invited him up to sit for a bit, as if he feared she might try something with him.

In reality, Yu Yao had been a paragon of health since childhood, but that particularly harsh winter had taken its toll. She’d gone on a date with this endearing guy, donning a stunning dress, but had overexerted herself and caught a fever, which had left her bedridden as soon as she got home.

Typically, she’d reach out to her trusted friend Yang Yun whenever she needed assistance, and she’d initially planned on doing the same when she fell ill. However, in her dizzy state, she’d accidentally sent a message meant for Yang Yun to Jiang Zhonglin instead.

As she stumbled out of bed to answer the door, she found him already standing at her doorstep, his face etched with worry, and armed with medicine. The chill of the day hadn’t seemed to faze him, but his sweat-drenched appearance betrayed his anxiety.

This marked the first time he had crossed the threshold into her inner sanctum since they’d started dating.

He was met with a living room cluttered with the remnants of the previous night’s takeaway and wine, as well as a pile of clothes and underwear carelessly discarded on the recliner.

As she opened the door, disheveled and dazed, she presented an image that was probably the most unflattering she’d ever shown him. Yet, he seemed entirely oblivious to the chaos surrounding him.

Instead, he anxiously approached her and gently touched her forehead, a gesture that was all the more remarkable given his usual gentlemanly reserve and shy demeanor, which had rarely allowed him to initiate physical contact during their relationship.

As soon as he realized she was burning up, he sprang into action, digging out the meds from his bag and tracking down the kettle in her tiny kitchen to whip up some hot water. Then, he gently coaxed her into taking the meds, even though she was pretty out of it.

Given her condition, Yu Yao just didn’t have the energy to fuss, so she collapsed onto the bed, feeling heavy-headed and lightheaded, without a care in the world about the giant of a man roaming around her room.

When she finally came to, she was greeted by the sight of Jiang Zhonglin sweating bullets as he cleaned up after her, carefully avoiding the messy pile of clothes and underwear scattered all over her floor.

As a boyfriend who’d taken time off to nurse his girlfriend back to health, he was totally on top of things, but Yu Yao? Not so much. She was a nightmare patient, refusing to take her meds, especially those pesky pills that just wouldn’t go down.

Once the fever had subsided a bit, she regained her senses and flat-out refused to take her meds. Jiang Zhonglin tried to reason with her, holding out the hot water and pleading with her to take the pills, but she dug in her heels, even when the water had cooled down to a warm temperature, which only served to worry him more.

“Trust me, it’s a breeze to swallow,” he said, trying to reassure her. “Just take a sip of water, pop the pill in your mouth, and then down a big gulp of water. Easy peasy.”

“Or, if you want, I can show you how it’s done?” he offered, almost popping the pill into his own mouth to demonstrate.

As Yu Yao gazed up at him, she couldn’t help but feel like a child being coddled, her embarrassment simmering just below the surface. With a hint of reluctance, she finally swallowed the pill, only to choke on it due to her hasty attempt.

Jiang Zhonglin swiftly pulled out a tissue to wipe away the water she’d coughed up, his hands trembling as he gently patted her chest—a gesture that was all the more intimate given her braless state, leaving her breasts noticeably exposed.

The young man’s eyes, once oblivious to this detail, now locked onto it, his face flushing with embarrassment as he hastily withdrew his hand. The awkward, green-tinged expression that crossed his face would remain etched in her memory forever.

As she quickly recovered, she couldn’t help but wonder if her subsequent agreement to Jiang Zhonglin’s proposal had been, at least in part, a result of her illness.

There was something undeniably endearing about having someone by your side when you’re feeling miserable, patiently coaxing you to take your medicine and tolerating your irritability with kindness. It’s a feeling that can fill the void when we’re lonely, and even the most hardened soloist can’t help but miss the comforts of family they once took for granted.

Reaching out, she gently placed her hand on Jiang Zhonglin’s forehead, the warmth of her palm reminiscent of the adoring gaze of a young man smitten—a look that spoke of tender infatuation.

But as she met his eyes, she noticed a difference; the all-consuming passion of youth had given way to a deeper, more mature tenderness, one that had only grown more refined with time.

Yu Yao’s voice trailed off as she began to speak, the words getting lost in her throat. She wanted to ask, “Do you still remember, after all these years, that I’ve always hated swallowing pills?”

Or perhaps, “When I’m sick, all I need is sleep, but you… you can’t just leave me be, can you?”

Yet, in the end, she said nothing, the silence between them speaking volumes.

As the moments ticked by, Jiang Zhonglin slowly pulled his hand out from under the quilt and gently placed it on his forehead, his eyes never leaving her face.

“At least I’m not being stubborn about taking my meds,” he said with a hint of a smile, trying to break the tension in the air.

Yu Yao’s lips curled up slightly at the corners as she shot back, “Don’t think you’re off the hook that easily—if you refuse to take your medicine, I’ll make sure you swallow it, even if it means pinching your nose shut and pouring it down your throat.”

Her eyes sparkled with a fierce intensity, as if daring him to test her resolve.

Jiang Zhonglin’s tone was laced with a reassuring firmness as he replied, “It’s nothing to worry about, really—just a minor fever that I’m used to getting every winter. I’ll be back on my feet in no time, and I meant what I said about taking care of you for a long time—you can count on me.”

His words were infused with a sense of dependable conviction, putting her mind at ease.

With a gentle touch, she guided his hand back under the quilt, her voice softening as she urged, “Then you should get some rest, okay? Sleep well and get better soon.”

Jiang Zhonglin’s smile was weak but reassuring as he nodded, his eyes drifting shut once more.

As she gazed at his face, she couldn’t help but wonder—had he been like this in the past, sitting alone with a fever, reading a book, and not even realizing he was sick? Had he simply taken some pills and gone to sleep, with no one to care for him, no one to sit by his bedside and wait for him to wake up?

The thought sent a pang of emotion through her chest, and she felt a deep connection to this man, who had been alone for so long.