Chapter 32: The Gathering

Not only was the show a hit, but the director got an extra drumstick—so did Professor Wang, who even made it onto several “Most Beautiful Woman” shortlists.

For the first time in his life, Academician Mr. Wang was called a “family member.” He stood there flustered, unsure what to say, before finally pushing aside the small talk: “Just send your video to your son right away—he said it’s useful.”

After New Year’s, Beijing Flight Control Center organized deep-space interface integration tests. Guan Zai hadn’t returned from Xi’an yet, so Yu Tu took on the task and rushed to Beijing.

The last time he’d stayed in Beijing for a full month was when Jingjing was doing her postgraduate studies at Tsinghua. Now, nearly a year had passed. Thinking of her, Yu Tu couldn’t help but tighten his lips slightly.

It felt like, except for those few weeks, they were always separated by thousands of miles. Even though they video-called whenever possible, it still wasn’t enough. He missed her—more than words could say.

“Jingjing, I’m at the flight control center now. If I can clock out on time tomorrow, I’ll swing by Tsinghua.”

“I’ll go see what winter looks like on campus. You’ve never seen it!”

“And if it snows? The red bricks against white snow at Tsinghua are breathtaking. Jingjing, Jingjing…”

He pressed send. The notification looped around twice before her reply popped up—like two people racing to speak.

“Yu Tu, it’s freezing today—*really* freezing. This Qin Zhilu Road is truly a historic wind gap. Think about how hard it must’ve been for ancient generals marching through the frontier or leading northern campaigns.”

“But don’t worry—I’m not cold at all. Xiao Zhu pasted your thermal film all over my down jackets and even three of my stage cloaks. They’re amazing.”

“Even the costumes for the Chanyu, General, Guardsman, and Coachman got covered with your film.”

“Everyone’s raving about it.”

Seemed like she had a free line. Yu Tu dialed a video call—busy signal. He hung up instantly. Sure enough, Jingjing’s incoming call flashed on screen.

“Yu Tu, were you just on the line?”

“Yeah, I got cut off again.”

“Tsk tsk. That kind of timing.”

“Oh, and one more thing—the camera crew’s gear froze solid. I handed my last roll to Old Cameraman to wrap around the camera. The director and old man cried almost—literally.”

“My schedule wraps up in a few days. What’s left will probably be shot in spring, back in Xi’an.”

“The producer asked if I could make it to Beijing before Spring Festival. He wants to take me to meet National Director.”

“Yu Tu, once we finish here next week, I can come to Beijing.”

She kept talking nonstop while Yu Tu just nodded along with soft “mm-hm” responses. But his eyes were smiling, his brows dancing, his mouth curled into a quiet grin—his whole heart was laughing: *Okay. I’ll wait for you.*

Yu Tu’s part of the test integration went smoother than anyone expected.

Team members agreed: Dr. Yu handled problems with crystal-clear logic, lightning speed, and rock-solid fundamentals—unusual for someone so young. And yet, he remained humble, mature beyond his years.

The deputy head overseeing the flight control project watched him for a few days, then called the president of Institute 8: “Keep that guy from 158 for six months. Let him coordinate the entire deep-space interface project.”

“158? That super-handsome kid?”

“You’re trying to steal him from Lao Zhang, aren’t you? Xiaoyu’s his golden boy. Even Old Cao from West Control asked about him—Lao Zhang nearly had a heart attack.”

“I’m not saying no, but you’ll have to do the legwork yourself.”

As soon as filming ended, Jingjing slapped on moisturizing masks like they were free. Xiao Zhu stared in horror.

And she kept asking questions: No fine lines? Really? Super elastic?

No fatigue? Not at all.

“Jingjing, I swear—you look better than you did the last time Yu Teacher saw you!”

Ah. That was the real magic line.

When she heard Yu Tu was in town, Zhai Liang lit up and immediately started planning a dinner: “Me and Chen Wei? Absolutely. It’s just… you’re too far from here—only convenient near Tsinghua. Let me check with my Beijing friends who might be free.”

Seeing Yu Tu raise one eyebrow, Zhai Liang caught on instantly: “I know, I know—ask one by one. No group chat.”

They settled on a handmade brewery in Shangdi—authentic German style. Seven people. Zhai Liang reserved the largest private room with a terrace.

By the time Yu Tu arrived, Chen Wei and their dorm mate were already there, plus two others working in the Zhongguancun area.

Zhai Liang and Old Lu both worked near Financial Street. They skipped work early and met on the subway.

It was the fifth year since graduation. Each bore the marks of time and struggle—but sitting together, they felt like kids again.

Only the dorm mate was married—though not to the little junior from school.

A moment later, Zhai Liang’s booming voice echoed down the hall. Old Lu’s eyes crinkled even without a smile. Golden beer foamed in thick waves. The large glasses clinked together with a crisp, bright ring.

Homecoming. Still, just boys.

The door creaked open softly. A server stepped in: “Sorry.”

Then another voice came from behind her: “Sorry… am I intruding?”

Yu Tu turned to look at Zhai Liang. Zhai Liang looked back. Their eyes met—just a flicker.

Zhai Liang set down his glass and stepped forward: “Hey, Xia Qing! Long time no see. Did you *calculate* our reunion with your fingers?”

Then he signaled the server: “Add a seat between me and Old Lu. Come on, gorgeous—sit here. I’m honored!”

“It’s not some mystical calculation,” she said. “You were at the Energy Association meeting yesterday, weren’t you?”

“I heard you talking in the hallway about Yu Tu being here. I was right next door.”

“No one invited me today, so I just came myself.”

Zhai Liang felt like he should vanish.

Xia Qing politely greeted everyone, lingering a beat longer on Yu Tu: “Yu Tu, you didn’t show up at last year’s class reunion during Lunar New Year. Will you come this year? Li Ming asked me.”

Yu Tu leaned back in his chair, fingertips tracing the rim of his glass. His expression was calm, distant: “Long time no see, Xia Qing.”

When she didn’t move on, he paused, then added: “I’ve got work. Can’t say when it’ll end.”

“Won’t you be able to go home for the holidays?”

But by then, Yu Tu had already turned to talk to Chen Wei—didn’t catch her question.

After a brief silence, the dorm mate and Old Lu stepped in with charm and warmth, enthusiastically asking about Xia Qing’s big project. Since they were all in finance, they shared tips and stories easily. The mood relaxed fast.

Yu Tu stood up and stepped onto the terrace to call Jingjing—but it was Xiao Zhu who answered. Jingjing was in the middle of a heavy scene.

Old Dan died. Her clan forced her to marry his son. Yu Tu sighed quietly inside. He told Xiao Zhu to have Jingjing call him back when she was done.

When he turned to re-enter the private room, he found Xia Qing standing in the doorway.

“Yu Tu.”

Her voice was low—rough, like barley grain rubbed raw.