Chapter 9

The dinner was warm and joyful, filling Li Ye with a sense of comfort.

After dinner, Li Ye went to bed early; since his midnight time-travel, his mind had been in chaotic flux, and the lingering weakness from continuous fever left him exhausted and drowsy.

After he fell asleep, Grandfather Li Zhong’s face darkened, and he sent for Li Kaibian.

“Go find out what’s going on with the rumors at school—quietly, don’t make a fuss.”

Li Kaibian had been pondering the same thing; he got on his bike and rode straight to Li Dayong’s house, returning less than half an hour later, furious.

“This is too much—they’ve labeled Xiao Ye as Huang Shiren! I’m going to fucking—tomorrow I’m going to teach that poor scholar a lesson, no, I’m going tonight.”

Li Kaibian had been discharged for years but still kept his soldier’s fiery temper; hearing his son had been wronged, he immediately cursed and stormed to confront the Lu family.

But Li Zhongfa snapped: “What nonsense are you spouting? Don’t you think the kid’s heart is already crushed? Don’t you understand that gossip only grows worse when stirred?”

Li Kaibian, unusually defiant, stuck his neck out at his father: “Dad, do you know Xiao Ye had a high fever for two days in the dorm? He nearly... We can’t take this humiliation.”

“Hmph, he needs to suffer a bit. We can protect him for now, but not forever.”

Li Zhongfa said: “Didn’t you notice how Xiao Ye changed today? Steel is forged through hammering. Let him handle this himself from now on—no more interference from you.”

Li Kaibian paced in circles, then spat bitterly: “I was blind—I never saw how heartless that girl really was.”

“Hah~ She has the means to be heartless.”

Li Zhongfa chuckled softly: “Do you know how fast that college student, Xiao Liu, who came to the county last year, was promoted? So don’t underestimate the Lu family—don’t make unnecessary enemies.”

“.........”

Li Kaibian froze, then slowly began to understand.

As a blunt, straightforward man, he lacked the sensitivity of Li Zhongfa, who had weathered storms—he still didn’t grasp the value of a college student in this era.

Frustrated, Li Kaibian grumbled: “It’s all Xiao Ye’s fault—he’s too useless. If he’d passed the college entrance exam, none of this would’ve happened.”

Li Zhongfa rolled his eyes in disdain: “You, a crude oaf who can’t even recognize all twenty-four letters, dare to criticize Xiao Ye?”

Li Kaibian stared blankly, wanting to say there were twenty-six letters, but wisely swallowed the words.

If we were to fight with our fists, we’d take on seven and challenge eight—but if we’re to compete in culture... let’s not talk.

“Plop~”

A Li Hui shoe stepped into a puddle after the rain; murky water splashed joyfully, turning the white sneaker black and muddy.

Lu Zixue numbly pulled his leg out and trudged forward, stumbling through the dark.

His home was in Qianjin Village, Liuqiao Township, thirty li from County No. 1 High School; when he had a bike, it took just over an hour to get home.

Lu Zixue loved the feeling of racing on his bike—not just the wind whistling past his ears, but also the envious glances from passersby.

Just entering high school and already riding a Phoenix-brand bike—how cool that was.

But today Li Ye “took back” the bike, and Lu Zixue realized how long this dirt road truly was, how exhausting walking could be.

By late autumn, night fell early; Lu Zixue walked three hours, fell countless times, and finally saw the lights of Liuqiao Township.

Liuqiao Township was named after a stone bridge spanning Qingshui River; crossing the bridge westward and walking four more li led to Qianjin Village.

Far off, Lu Zixue spotted a small figure sitting under the bridge’s lamplight, hunched and staring expectantly toward the county.

When she saw Lu Zixue stumbling closer, the small figure leapt up and hurried toward him.

Lu Zixue then recognized her—his younger sister, Lu Jingqi.

“Brother, why are you back so late... Where’s your bike?”

“I...”

Looking at his sister, Lu Zixue couldn’t answer, so he asked instead: “What are you doing here?”

Lu Jingqi said: “Mom worried you weren’t home by dark, thought your bike broke down, so she sent me to meet you. Brother, where’s your bike?”

Lu Jingqi’s constant mention of the bike stoked Lu Zixue’s anger; he snapped: “Mom sent you to meet me, so why are you just sitting here? If I’d died halfway, no one would’ve known!”

Lu Jingqi froze, then whispered, wounded: “It’s dark... I was afraid to walk at night... I couldn’t go further than this...”

“Hmph. Useless thing.”

Lu Zixue turned and walked ahead, leaving Lu Jingqi behind.

Now, he felt everyone owed him—his penniless parents, his timid sister, his self-centered sister—all owed him.

When he got home, his father was grading homework, his mother was sewing shoes, and a meal waited for Lu Zixue on the table.

Seeing Lu Zixue enter, his mother asked again about the bike.

Lu Zixue could no longer hold back—he burst into tears.

After learning the full story, his father stayed silent; his mother, heartbroken for her son, soothed: “There, there, stop crying. We’ll get you a new one—your sister will buy you one.”

“A new one? Yes! I’ll write to my sister—tell her to buy me a new one.”

Suddenly enlightened, Lu Zixue abandoned his meal, snatched paper and pen, and poured all his resentment onto the letter.

The family still had old postage stamps Lu Jingyao had sent back; Lu Zixue sealed the envelope, walked through the dark all night to Liuqiao Township, and dropped it into the postbox outside the post office.

The next morning, the thin envelope was loaded onto a truck, crossed vast distances, traveled north, and arrived at the mailbox of Beijing Foreign Languages College.

Late autumn in Beijing was already cold; when the final autumn rain fell, a biting chill finally ushered in early winter.

The annoying wind pierced the dense rain, carrying damp chill, silently pushing open the window, brushing Lu Jingyao’s face, wetting her lashes, tousling her hair.

Lu Jingyao, absorbed in reading and writing from a thick dictionary, stirred slightly, finished writing one word, then took a deep breath, letting the coolness seep into her lungs.

She loved this faint chill—it sharpened her tired mind and improved her study efficiency.

But just as Lu Jingyao felt invigorated, a soft voice came from the upper bunk: “Lu Jingyao, could you please close the window? Half is fine. Thanks.”

Lu Jingyao quickly shut the window, blocking out the late autumn dampness.

Her roommate, Liu Muhan, was from the south and still unaccustomed to northern weather; Lu Jingyao couldn’t only think of herself.

“Sorry, Muhan—how’s your cold?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Liu Muhan poked her head out of the upper bunk. “What are you reading, Jingyao?... Oh... you’re studying so hard!”

Lu Jingyao smiled silently and lowered her head to keep memorizing words.

She couldn’t afford to slack off!

Lu Jingyao had barely scraped into Beijing Foreign Languages College and had felt proud—but in Beijing, she realized what true talent looked like.

Every young person here possessed talent and confidence far beyond their peers.

Take Liu Muhan, curled up in her blanket—she could read original foreign novels without a dictionary.

Lu Jingyao had secretly glanced once; the dense, wriggling script made her dizzy.

How could a self-made girl who’d leapt through the dragon’s gate accept falling behind?

Lu Jingyao knew well: her beauty was merely a gift, a bonus.

Her self-reliance and diligence were her truest wealth—the only tools to break free from her cage and breathe freely.

“Lu Jingyao, you’ve got mail.”

Two girls skipped into the dorm; one held a letter and handed it to Lu Jingyao, who sat reading by the window.

Lu Jingyao took the envelope, thanked her roommate, and opened it to read, while the two girls hovered beside her like curious cats, peering over.

Soon, Lu Jingyao’s expression changed—anger, confusion, and worry flickered across her lovely face.

The two curious cats instantly spotted something interesting and extended their sharp claws.