Chapter 38: Life

Cashmere sweaters, scarves, skincare, Maotai, Longjing tea—none of that counts as a real Lunar New Year gift. Jingjing giggled, proudly showing her parents the one thing just hauled off the car by Yutu:
A ham.

“Iberian ham,” she said, grinning. “Black label. Super hard to get.”

“Jingjing… how long is this whole thing gonna last?” Dad asked, eyeing the beast like it was a mountain he’d have to climb.

“No worries, Dad,” she said. “The thinner you slice it, the better. And we’re having dinner parties for weeks. Plus, it keeps forever.”

“Your dad’s knife skills aren’t exactly razor-sharp,” Mom chimed in. “You’re wasting good ham.”

Dad bristled. “Well, if I’m so bad, why don’t *you* try?”

Miss Qiao glanced at the bystander. “How about you, Yutu? You give it a shot later?”

Miss Qiao, blind idol worship is a disease. Needs treatment.

Dad pulled Yutu into the living room for a serious talk about investments. Jingjing stayed behind with Mom, trying on new clothes.

“By the way,” Mom said, adjusting a sleeve. “I ran into Yutu’s mom once at the mall.”

“We wandered around together for hours. She hasn’t changed a bit over the years.”

“Still that quick-witted, cheerful soul. Definitely easy to get along with.”

“Mom, I know, I know,” Jingjing said, smiling.

“Look—how does this look?” Mom turned, posing.

“Oh, stop it—you’re getting old!”

“But with a daughter as beautiful as you, the mom has to be stunning too.”

If you ignored everything else, Dad thought, Yutu was basically a treasure chest—his taste, his thinking, his judgment… all right on par with mine. Uh, *equal*, okay?

“Yutu,” Dad said, sipping tea. “I’ll think about what you said.”

“Jingjing’s income needs to support the studio.”

“Most of it’s already in my hands—some investment planning.”

“I see you’ve got some solid ideas on this too.”

“Uncle!” Yutu knew exactly where this was going.

“Your previous arrangements for Jingjing’s income,” he said carefully. “We’ll keep doing it the same way. If needed, I can provide data analysis to help.”

He paused. “I’ve already told you before—I don’t earn much, and my work keeps me busy.”

“Jingjing’s always been the one who’s made it possible. I can’t give her much, but whatever I can, it’s all I’ve got.”

Dad took a long drag from his teacup, then clapped Yutu on the shoulder. “Oh, by the way—friend recommended a siheyuan in Beijing.”

“You’ve lived there longer than anyone. What do you think?”

Unsurprisingly, the gift for Yutu’s parents that year was also a single ham. Cashmere sweaters, scarves, skincare, Maotai, Longjing—still not counting.

Tuyu’s mom looked flustered. “Jingjing! Jingjing! So many things! You didn’t have to spend a penny—we already have everything!”

She shot a worried glance at Yutu. “What’s wrong with you? Why let Jingjing buy all this?”

“Ma’am,” Jingjing said calmly. “These days, *I* handle all the spending.”

“Yutu’s busy with bigger things.”

“Bigger things?”

“Like what? What could possibly be more important than Jingjing?”

“I’ve invited a bunch of girlfriends—next weekend, we’re going to see your new movie!”

“Yeah, thanks, guys,” Jingjing said, smiling.

“Right, Ma’am—listen up. This ham? *Don’t steam it.*”

“Slice it paper-thin. Eat it raw. It’s incredible. Looks gorgeous on the plate too.”

“And it lasts forever.”

“Yutu’s big projects? Writing papers, translating books, running experiments for months at a time.”

“Honestly, I don’t even understand half of it. But everyone says he’s brilliant. His teachers, colleagues—they’re all amazing.”

By the time the food arrived, Yutu was done. Jingjing, however, still had energy to spare—and ended up carrying most of the meal.

While Yutu slowly peeled shrimp—Jingjing one, Mom one, Dad one, Jingjing again—she kept glancing at him, like she was waiting for something.

After dinner, Jingjing hovered around Tuyu’s mom, helping with dishes, moving in little circles. It reminded Yutu of how she used to follow him around—like a little shadow.

He rolled up his sleeves. “Let me help.”

“What should I do?”

“Hold this.”

The ring, warm from his hand, settled into hers. Jingjing curled her fingers around it gently, then stepped back to sit on the sofa.

Her phone buzzed—text from Xiao Zhu:
“Jingjing! Jingjing! Someone leaked a photo of you two at a service station today!”

“A fan’s planning to ambush you in Yixing. Lingjie knows. She’s handling it. But be careful!”

“Okay,” Jingjing replied, voice quiet.

Something in her tone tugged at Yutu. It wasn’t fair. Not at all.

When things were mostly cleaned up, Tuyu’s mom suggested they go for a walk. Jingjing declined. She walked beside Yutu back to his tiny apartment.

“What’s wrong?”

Yutu drew the curtains shut, then turned and wrapped his arms around her. Jingjing lowered her head, fiddling with the ring, eyes downcast.

“Xiao Zhu said someone snapped photos of us on the way back. We’ll probably have stalkers for days.”

“Lingjie’s already got people watching. But… Yutu, this isn’t fair to you.”

“Jingjing.”

He leaned against his desk. She nestled close, their shoulders brushing, cheeks touching. They fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“I don’t care what happens to me. Don’t worry about me.”

“Yutu, you don’t get it.”

“The industry’s full of irrational stuff. I don’t want to drag you into it.”

“Your world—the lab, your teachers, your colleagues. They’re pure. They shouldn’t be disturbed.”

“Maybe you’re overthinking it,” Yutu said softly. “The ivory tower doesn’t exist anymore. Even if it did, it’s inside each of us.”

“Look—I do science communication livestreams. My professor brings his wife to cloud-viewing events.”

“In life, you and I? We’re not different from anyone else. No one’s above, no one’s beneath.”

Jingjing shifted slightly. “But you’re *different*. Not just for your family or yourself.”

“Maybe it’s because we love beautiful things,” Yutu said, smiling. “And I’ve spent so much time proving just how *beautiful* they are—so beautiful, it finally broke through your worries.”

Eventually, it was time to take Jingjing home.

No fireworks lit up the sky like when they were kids. Just quiet. But every light along the road glowed warm and safe.

Near Jingjing’s villa complex was the forest park. The gate was locked now, but the air still carried the scent of grass and trees—familiar, deep, rooted in their hometown. A breath of green, wild, alive. Their smell. Their truth.