Chapter 13: This Is My Girlfriend Jingjing

“I remember a place—guaranteed you’ll love it.”

Her eyes sparkled.

“No need to guarantee I’ll like it.”

They went to Cloudtop, the city’s highest point, where the air was thick with the scent of old paper and stories. Reading a book here wasn’t just reading words—it was reading a city, alive and breathing.

Jingjing adored the creative corner. Yu Tu, on the other hand, was drawn to the vintage books section—the ultimate tech nerd, yet somehow moved by the emotional arcs, the joy and sorrow woven into every sentence.

“Honestly,” he told her, “if there were a cutting-edge tech zone too, that’d be perfect.”

On their way to the coffee bar overlooking the riverbank, Yu Tu spotted an elderly couple perched on high stools—his professor and his wife.

He turned to Jingjing.

“Uh… ran into my teacher and his wife. I should say hello… will it be awkward for you?”

The girl who had lowered her head at the first part suddenly lifted her face, smiling.

“Not at all.”

Yu Tu glanced around again. The shop wasn’t crowded—quiet, peaceful. Should be fine.

They carried their coffees, hands linked, walking over.

“Teacher! You two come here too?”

Professor Zhang recognized his voice instantly—and immediately bristled.

“Yu Tu! You’re up all night on your project, then vanish at five when it comes to papers. Tomorrow morning—”

He adopted his sternest expression, about to reprimand, when he caught sight of the bright-eyed girl beside his student. His lecture froze mid-sentence.

His wife mirrored his motion, turning smoothly, then gave him a light slap on the back.

“You just told me yesterday how hard this young man’s been working. Don’t go contradicting yourself now.”

“Hello, Professor. Hello, Madame Professor!”

Qiao Jingjing bowed politely, her eyes shining like stars in the dim café light.

Both elders turned to look at Yu Tu—this prized student, flustered, shy, but glowing with quiet happiness.

“This is my girlfriend, Jingjing.”

On the drive back, the dried flowers regained a little moisture. Jingjing called Amy.

“By the way—budget, don’t let it go over 66,000 yuan!”

“That won’t even cover one sofa!”

“Who said anything about a sofa? Amy, genius—I trust you completely. You’ll figure it out!”

“I can only try. But what if we still go over?”

“Then leave one room empty. We’ll fix it when I’ve got the money.”

Silence filled the car. Silence filled the phone. Amy, Xiao Zhu, the driver—all stared at each other. *Wait… did she just say she’d wait until she had money? Is time broken?*

Jingjing agreed to ring in the New Year with Chen Xue and the others—but refused to play mahjong.

“After all the sleepless nights and scraping by, do you really think I’d let you win my hard-earned cash? You guys play. I’ll just watch.”

At midnight, from the rooftop terrace of Peace Hotel, they looked down: crowds surged along the Bund, Pudong blazed with lights, and the sky remained deep, vast, serene.

Jingjing filmed several clips and sent them to Yu Tu. “Happy New Year!”

At that moment, Yu Tu had been awake for nearly thirty hours straight at a remote base in the northwest. One satellite had gone silent.

Teams from across the country had converged, working frantically in unison on a massive table, eyes glued to screens.

No rest. No breaks. In the endless void of space, the satellite was no bigger than a grain of sand. Every passing minute brought new uncertainty.

On the third day—New Year’s Day—Huo Suo and Qian Suo from the 85th Institute arrived, along with Base Commander Li.

If this satellite couldn’t be saved, the entire launch schedule would have to be rewritten—major ripple effects across the whole program.

Guan was leading the task force. Yu Tu was his assistant. On the whiteboard, fault trees were eliminated branch by branch, each one backed by mountains of data.

By the sixth day, the satellite finally responded. Data began streaming back, slowly but steadily. The room was so quiet, people barely dared to clap. Some collapsed right onto their desks, asleep. Guan included.

Yu Tu pushed through exhaustion to finish the report. Then, under orders from Huo Suo and the others, he was dragged off to bed. The hundred-meter walk back to the dorm felt endless. He barely made it. Phone in hand, he managed to type just two words: *“Done.”* Then he passed out.

At that same moment, Jingjing was half-asleep on the road from her hometown to Hengdian. She saw those two simple words, clutched her phone tighter, and drifted back into sleep.

Huo Suo signed the final report, exhaled deeply, steadied himself, then dialed the old academician.

“Old Zhang—she’s back. We got her.”

He summarized briefly, then added: “Yu Tu did exceptionally well this time.”

“Yeah. We’ve got plenty of PhDs, plenty of specialists. But someone like Yu Tu—specialized *and* broad-minded? Rare.”

“Fast thinker, open mind. That key insight? He came up with it. And the simulation validation? Rock-solid.”

“Thanks for trusting me with such a promising student.”

The old man chuckled on the other end, wrinkles crinkling. As always, his tone stayed dry.

“Coming up with one idea isn’t much. He’s still young—lacks experience. But he’s a sharp blade. Just needs more polishing.”

“Old Qian just called me, asking about Yu Tu’s plans after graduation. I told him he’s already mine.”

“He hugged me, shook my hand, then turned around and started poaching me. Classic.”

“We’ll drink him under the table next time.”

Yu Tu woke up just past five a.m. Guan had returned sometime during the night, sprawled on the bed in his clothes, fast asleep.

From the dorm window, the sky hung low, the morning star blazing bright.

Yu Tu reached into the chest for clothes and towel, planning to shower. Guan stirred groggily.

“Don’t shower without waking me. You’ll stink up the whole room.”

Yu Tu’s phone lay on the bed, screen still open to WeChat.

The message “Done” sat alone—no replies read yet.

Meanwhile, Qiao Jingjing woke up in a hotel in Qingcheng Mountain, drowsy and disoriented, vaguely remembering something forgotten. Oh—right. *Good morning.* Today’s okay, isn’t it?

The video call rang through instantly. Yu Tu’s voice, low and warm, vibrated through her ear.

“Happy New Year. Good morning.”

She pouted playfully. “Why didn’t you wait two minutes? I haven’t even washed my face.”

“One second can’t wait.”

The call stretched on—long enough for Xiao Zhu to knock on her door. She’d lost money to Chen Xue and refused to pay. She told him about the flower arch fans had set up for her at the New Year’s Eve party, about family dinners with grandparents, about the visit to her grandmother’s house—then waved off the rest. “Bye!”

On the other side, Guan was urging them to leave—they had to catch their flight.

Life settled back into routine.

One day, Jingjing stared at her phone and sighed. “This feels exactly like online dating. Don’t you miss warmth? Surprise?”

Wait—what did I forget?

The bookshelf…

And the keys…

“Yu Tu, I accidentally brought your keys with me. Do you have a spare?”

“The property management should have one. No problem—just grab them when you get back.”

“Yu Tu, check the house, okay? What if it snows and the windows leak?”