The Forbidden City was enormous, and Chu Xia and Cen Huai’an strolled leisurely, taking their time to rest and explore without rushing to other areas.

As a result, they spent the rest of their day at the Forbidden City.

Cen Huai’an became curious about the historical stories, and afterward, Chu Xia took him to a bookstore to pick out two books about the history of the Ming and Qing dynasties.

By the time they returned home, the sun had already set.

Cen Zhengnian had prepared a meal and left it warming in the pot while he returned to work.

The next day, Chu Xia took Cen Huai’an to Beihai Park, and to her surprise, they ran into Qiao Qiao again.

She was swinging in the park, and as soon as she saw Chu Xia and Cen Huai’an walking by, she jumped off the swing and ran over to them. “Auntie!” she exclaimed.

Chu Xia was a bit startled by the coincidence, not expecting to meet Qiao Qiao for the second time.

Qiao Qiao’s grandmother also commented on their luck, suggesting that since they were all out with their children, they could enjoy the day together.

Qiao Qiao’s grandmother asked Chu Xia, “Would you like to walk with us?”

Chu Xia didn’t refuse.

Qiao Qiao was lively and well-mannered, clearly raised with great care by her grandmother.

She possessed a certain childlike innocence that Cen Huaian had less of.

Moreover, she was polite; if she asked a question An An didn’t want to answer, she would skillfully change the subject.

Chu Xia and Qiao Qiao’s grandmother walked behind the children, talking about parenting, but both avoided asking personal questions.

Unknowingly, they got closer to the lake in Beihai Park.

The lake was large, and with autumn approaching, some leaves had fallen around its edges.

However, the surrounding trees were still green, though a few leaves had begun to turn yellow, lacking the deep green of spring and summer.

Seeing the boats on the lake, Qiao Qiao excitedly pointed and said, “Let’s go boating!”

Chu Xia asked Cen Huai’an, “Do you want to go boating?”

There were already people rowing boats on the lake.

Cen Huai’an nodded.

He had never rowed a boat before.

So Chu Xia took An An, and Qiao Qiao’s grandmother took Qiao Qiao, and the four of them boarded a small boat.

On the boat, Qiao Qiao began singing, “Let’s raise our paddles, the little boat pushes through the waves…”

As she sang, she grabbed the oar and started paddling.

Chu Xia, An An, and Qiao Qiao’s grandmother also helped row the boat.

They had envisioned a peaceful scene—rowing across the lake, the boat leaving gentle ripples in its wake. It seemed like the perfect moment.

But reality was less ideal: the four of them called out “one, two, one, two” as they rowed with all their might, but the boat didn’t move forward.

Instead, it just spun in circles.

Chu Xia and Qiao Qiao’s grandmother exchanged glances and then both looked away, pretending they hadn’t noticed.

Clearing her throat, Chu Xia said to An An, who was confused, “Well, we’ve experienced rowing. Let’s head back.”

An An looked at the other boats that had launched after them but were already far ahead.

He opened his mouth and said, “Mom, we haven’t even reached the center of the lake yet.”

“The center of the lake is dangerous,” Chu Xia responded.

Qiao Qiao looked at Chu Xia as well. “Auntie, but our boat hasn’t moved at all.”

Chu Xia glanced at Qiao Qiao’s grandmother, who was suddenly very interested in the scenery by the lake.

In the end, they had no choice but to pay for a staff member to row for them.

If they had continued on their own, the boat would still be spinning in place.

Without having to row, Chu Xia and An An sat together, enjoying the beautiful scenery on the lake.

Although the view was mostly just trees, it felt different from seeing them from the shore.

Qiao Qiao sang “Let’s raise our paddles” several more times, and her voice echoed across the lake.

She even asked An An to sing with her, but he declined.

He preferred reciting poems about lakes to his mother instead.

However, there were other children on the lake, and some of them had also learned “Let’s raise our paddles.”

The more confident ones started singing along with Qiao Qiao.

After hearing them, Chu Xia still thought Qiao Qiao sang the best.

Her voice was lively and always in tune, while the other children were more shouting than singing.

After getting off the boat, Cen Huaian suddenly asked Qiao Qiao, “Does your throat hurt?”

Qiao Qiao covered her throat, putting on a pitiful expression, and nodded emphatically. “Yes, I’m so thirsty, and it hurts a lot.”

Her grandmother handed her some water. “If you keep singing and get louder, it won’t hurt anymore.”

“Grandma…” Qiao Qiao pouted while drinking the water.

Beihai Park was beautiful and expansive.

Chu Xia and An An spent the entire day there as well.

Their goal wasn’t to visit all the sights in Beijing over two days but to take their time and enjoy themselves, not rush through everything.

This day, with Qiao Qiao and her grandmother, was filled with even more laughter.

As they left the park in the afternoon, Qiao Qiao was reluctant to part with Chu Xia and Cen Huai’an, but they didn’t exchange contact information.

Qiao Qiao’s grandmother seemed to have the same mindset—if they were destined to meet again, they would.

The more fun they had, the more painful catching up on homework would be.

Chu Xia hadn’t expected that even as an adult, she would once again experience the feeling of racing against the clock, writing with a pen late into the night, trying to complete a miracle.

Thankfully, she had been doing her homework every evening, so there wasn’t much left to finish, and she wouldn’t have to do it all in one night.

But she wasn’t going to suffer alone.

Chu Xia assigned Cen Huaian the task of writing two essays: A Visit to the Forbidden City and A Visit to Beihai Park, with a word count requirement of at least 100 words.

For a primary school student, 100 words was a lot.

When Chu Xia had done similar writing tasks as a child, the word count was only 50 or 60 words.

But for Cen Huaian, it wasn’t much.

When he wrote letters to his friend Bangzi, they were often longer than 100 words. Sometimes, even his diary entries exceeded that.

He quickly finished both 200-word essays.

While Chu Xia was busy with her own homework, she left the task of checking Cen Huaian’s work to Cen Zhengnian.

He was very thorough, circling every mistake, including punctuation errors, and made An An correct them.

Even the words he replaced with pinyin had to be looked up in the dictionary and rewritten properly.

By the time Chu Xia finished her own homework, Cen Huaian, under Cen Zhengnian’s supervision, was practicing calligraphy.

“Why are you practicing calligraphy again? It’s late; you should go to bed,” Chu Xia said.

Cen Huai’an didn’t look up; he was focused on writing a character.

If he got distracted, he might make a mistake and have to start over.

Cen Zhengnian took a sip of water and said, “His handwriting has gotten worse. He’ll go to bed after finishing this sheet.”

Chu Xia glanced at the sheet Huai’an was working on—only two lines were left—so she felt relieved and went to wash up before going to bed.

Chu Xia was exhausted from the day.

Visiting the park had worn her out, and by the afternoon, her legs felt so sore and numb that she just wanted to sit and not move.

But Qiao Qiao and An An were still full of energy.

Chu Xia couldn’t understand how these two kids had so much stamina, and even Qiao Qiao’s grandma seemed to have more energy than her.

Without sheer willpower, Chu Xia would have already collapsed on the bed.

When Cen Zhengnian entered the bedroom, Chu Xia was already fast asleep.

She didn’t even stir when he got into bed.

Lying next to her, Cen Zhengnian waited for Chu Xia to instinctively roll toward him, as she usually did.

He gently brushed her hair aside, remembering how she had complained about her sore legs earlier.

He sat up, massaged her legs, and then lay back down to sleep.

On the first day of school, the Chinese medicine major’s class didn’t have the frantic scene of students catching up on homework, like Chu Xia had seen in her middle and high school years.

Now everyone was afraid of falling behind and dared not slack off because getting into college had been so hard.

Of course, there were still a few students who wanted to relax, but they were the minority.

Even Chu Xia’s roommates, who had gone out to play, finished their homework the night before, just like she did.

Yang Jin yawned repeatedly, rubbing her face, and said, “Next time, I’m not spending the whole holiday playing. I’ll set aside a day for homework. I’m exhausted.”

Liang Wenwen and Mao Xiaolan were also looking tired; only Chu Xia and Ye Mengchun seemed full of energy.

“How late did you guys stay up doing homework last night?” Chu Xia asked, noticing how drained they looked as she handed in her own homework.

“One o’clock,” Yang Jin replied.

“I stayed up until two,” Liang Wenwen added, raising her hand.

Mao Xiaolan looked like she was about to cry.

She had been up until three in the morning, and if she hadn’t been used to staying up late during busy farming seasons, she might not have gotten up at all.

Chu Xia gave them a thumbs up.

Ye Mengchun, frowning, warned, “We have Teacher Tang’s class next; you better be careful.”

Ye Mengchun respectfully called her “Teacher Tang,” but the other students referred to her as “Old Lady Tang.”

She was the strictest teacher Chu Xia had, scolding anyone who made mistakes in front of the whole class, without any leniency, and sometimes making them cry.

Even when students cried, Old Lady Tang wouldn’t stop.

After scolding, she would take a sip of water and say, “Crying is right because if you made this mistake with a patient, you’d cry even more. You can’t make mistakes when it comes to people’s lives.”

Although she was strict, Old Lady Tang was an excellent teacher.

Her lectures were never boring; in fact, they were engaging, and she explained everything in detail, making it easy for students to understand.

Chu Xia loved her classes, and the students had a mix of fear and admiration for her.

Upon hearing Ye Mengchun’s warning, Yang Jin and the others immediately sat up straight and told Chu Xia and Ye Mengchun, “If we fall asleep, don’t hesitate to wake us up—pinch us if you have to!”

They would rather be rudely awakened by their roommates than be scolded by Old Lady Tang.

No matter how good the class, drowsiness still took over.

Just a few minutes into the lecture, Yang Jin and her friends started nodding off.

Chu Xia and Ye Mengchun didn’t hold back and pinched their arms.

The girls jolted awake, shaking their heads and trying to focus again.

But their drowsiness was so overwhelming that even Chu Xia and Ye Mengchun’s pinches weren’t enough.

Predictably, Old Lady Tang noticed their actions.

As Chu Xia was about to pinch Yang Jin again, Old Lady Tang’s sharp gaze landed on them.

“Luo Chuxia, answer this question,” she said.

Chu Xia stood up.

Since she had been paying attention, she answered the question clearly and confidently.

“Good, you may sit down. Yang Jin, now you repeat it.”