Chapter 10: A New Year’s Gift

After all, she won’t be back until at least the end of the year—there’s gotta be a New Year’s gift, right?

On-site measurements?
The designer would figure it out. She didn’t care.

“Alright, no more buts—the car’s here. Miss Jo, could you please let the gate know there’s a visitor?”

Jingjing sighed again over her brief, ten-minute-long inspiration.

“I had everything planned… now what do I do…”

“You slept so little yesterday, and today’s going to be a full day—aren’t you exhausted?”

Miss Jo still worried about her boyfriend, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to say, *“Don’t come.”*

After all, in the past three months, she’d only been able to stay for two days—well, two days weren’t even important. Just three nights. And now, only two left…

“It’s fine. I’ve always slept little.”

Yu Tu thought, if worst comes to worst, he could just work nonstop for three days after she left. The schedule should hold.

The night wind carried the car fast. When Yu Tu reached the gate, the guard gave a lazy wave. He stepped forward quickly, his path as familiar as if he’d walked it a hundred times.

Elevator: 0278. Door code: 8720. For once, Yu Tu hesitated—those numbers felt oddly familiar, but he couldn’t place why—when suddenly, a warm body launched itself into his arms.

“Jingjing, I’m cold—later, okay?”

“No!”

Yu Tu almost hated himself. What kind of behavior was this?

Back in Tsinghua Dormitory, Old Long used to tease him about how “the high mountain flower” had finally been plucked by Xia Qing. Then Zhai Liang had said: *“Those two? They’re pine and bamboo—evergreen.”*

“What does that mean?”

“Revolutionary love shines bright.”

He never knew he could be like this—no minute-by-minute schedule, no SWOT analysis with matching ideals.

Nothing. Not a single thing. All he wanted was to hold the girl in his arms, and when she squirmed playfully, they ended up tangled together on the couch.

“Getting all mushy,” Jingjing murmured, leaning against him.

“How about watching a movie tonight? I picked three. Which one do you want?”

Of course. Yu Tu chose *A Beautiful Mind.*

In the home theater, they stayed pressed close. Jingjing occasionally commented on scenes—how masterful the camera work was, how piercing the emotion in the delivery.

“Jingjing.”

Her head rested on his chest, which rose and fell gently with each word.

“There’s actually a long-standing plan in the international space community. Once propulsion and energy research hit their theoretical limits, someone will fly to Mars for scientific study.”

Jingjing turned to look at him. “And then?”

“It’s a one-way trip. He’ll stay on Mars forever. His data will be sent back to Earth.”

She sat up, eyes serious.

“So… you’re saying—if it were possible… would you go?”

Her gaze was bright, intense.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Yu Tu’s eyes stayed fixed on the screen, where Nash walked alone across the MIT campus.

“If greatness is destined to be lonely, maybe loneliness isn’t such a bad thing. Someone has to fly.”

“But what if… they could come back?”

He turned to face her.

“If I had to choose right now, I’d rather be ordinary.”

Jingjing looked at him, silent.

“Jingjing… do you think you could accept a boyfriend like that?”

She turned back to the screen.

“Alicia said, just keep moving forward together.”

That night, Yu Tu slept deeply. So did Jingjing.

When she woke up, her parents were already there. Even with just two people, the house filled with warmth and life.

Tofu skin, pork belly, black rice, her favorite wild mushrooms—yanlai xun—and a jar of rice wine. Her mom packed extra portions into lunch boxes, insisting she share them with Lingjie and the others.

“The rice wine—your studio’s always having gatherings, right? It’s our way of saying thanks. They’ve been so good to you.”

“Well, I’ll return the favor. Not even a talent scout could pull me away.”

Jingjing nuzzled her mom playfully.

“Am I awesome?”

“Yes, yes, my daughter’s the best…”

While Mom bustled around, Dad wandered from room to room.

“Jingjing, I’ve told you a hundred times—don’t leave those bears and bunnies on the bed. Hug them on the sofa, but don’t sleep with them. It messes with your breathing.”

“Jingjing, why are both your closets overflowing? Let Xiao Zhu help you tidy up—this is getting messy.”

“Jingjing…”

Jingjing thought her mom was like a feeding machine, while her dad played the role of strict principal.

“Jingjing, this one’s actually pretty good. Finally proves I was right!”

Wait—was he *praising* her?

Confused, Jingjing walked toward him.

In the corner of the living room stood the Hub cabinet, managing all the home wiring. Dad had always complained it was a chaotic mess—too many wires, too much risk.

But now, every cable was neatly arranged. Tied down where needed, bent just right. Everything orderly, clean, efficient.

Dad smiled proudly at his daughter. *She listened. She cared. My advice wasn’t wrong after all.*

Jingjing watched him, smiling, lost in thought.

Where had she found that wire-tie tool?

How long had it taken?

What time had she gotten up?

Later that afternoon, Jingjing called her designer friend over for a hushed, conspiratorial chat.

Dad drifted in several times with fruit, catching only fragments—something about bookshelves.

Then he disappeared into the kitchen, grinning at Mom. “Our daughter’s so sweet, so hardworking. We’re blessed!”

“Can we come home for a few days during New Year’s?”

“Make sure you hand everything over to the driver before you leave tomorrow. If you leave anything behind for a month, it’ll all be ruined.”

The parental squad had arrived, done their rounds, and departed happily.

Yu Tu came late today—some bugs in the program meant redoing parts of the workflow. Still deep in thought, he rubbed his temples unconsciously as he stepped out of the car.

He pressed 0278 in the elevator. Still, something about that number nagged at him. Four digits… tied to what?

He entered with 8720. As he opened the door, he caught the rushing body mid-air.

Instinctively, he asked: “Why did you reverse the password?”

“You said that was the simplest encryption method, didn’t you?”

“I said that? When?”

Suddenly, it clicked.

0278—his high school ID number.

The idea of reversing the digits as encryption—it was something he’d first encountered when he started diving into aerospace communication security.

Back then, it was just a basic concept. But soon, his research spiraled far beyond what any high school student could grasp.

So… he held Jingjing tightly, convinced he was the biggest fool on Earth.

But even the dumbest guy still had to solve problems that weren’t totally stupid.

“Jingjing, do you have a computer? I need to edit a file—tomorrow’s deadline. Should take about ten minutes.”

“Yes, right here. But… do you need it to be private?”

Jingjing was already trained to think like a pro.

“If it can be taken out, it’s fine. This is trend-based research.”