Nie Wenqing had lived in Tongshu Community for over a decade, and he had known Jiang Zhonglin for about the same amount of time. They had always gotten along well. Unlike Nie Wenqing, who had a complete family with children and a caring wife, Jiang Zhonglin was truly alone. Over the years, the only time Nie Wenqing saw visitors at Jiang’s house was during holidays when some of his students came by. Otherwise, his home was always quiet and lonely.

Nie Wenqing knew a bit about his old friend’s situation. Jiang Zhonglin was an only child; his parents had passed away early, and he had once had a wife in his younger years, but she seemed to have died. Since then, Jiang Zhonglin had never remarried. Now, in his old age, he had no children. Nie Wenqing and his wife, both cheerful and open-hearted, often invited Jiang Zhonglin over for meals and fishing trips.

When it came to Jiang Zhonglin’s character, Nie Wenqing had absolute trust. In his words, “Teacher Jiang is an upright gentleman with excellent morals—always proper, with no questionable behavior.”

But today, witnessing the scene before him, Nie Wenqing began to doubt his own eyes. He didn’t immediately suspect Jiang Zhonglin of any inappropriate conduct; instead, he wondered if his eyesight had failed him or if he had some kind of condition that caused him to hallucinate.

As Nie Wenqing fell silent, the living room grew even quieter. Yu Yao looked down at her slippers, then at the frozen Jiang Zhonglin, and with a stern expression, she asked, “Can’t I kiss my own husband?”

Jiang Zhonglin, stunned by her kiss, had his glasses askew, but he quickly regained his composure, stepped back, adjusted his glasses, and awkwardly cleared his throat. He didn’t respond to her question but glanced at his shocked neighbor, Lao Nie. He then gently said to Yu Yao, “There’s breakfast in the kitchen; it’s still warm. You should eat something.”

As Yu Yao headed to the dining room to eat, Jiang Zhonglin turned his attention back to Nie Wenqing and sat down beside him. Realizing something was amiss, Nie Wenqing rubbed his eyes and confirmed he wasn’t hallucinating. He then seriously asked, “Old Jiang, what’s going on? Who is this young woman to you?”

Jiang Zhonglin remained silent for a moment before replying, “She’s my… wife.”

“The same wife I married forty-one years ago.” He calmly explained the situation about the time travel.

“What?!” Nie Wenqing, who had been mentally preparing himself for a scandal involving Jiang Zhonglin in his old age, was completely taken aback by this revelation. As he thought about it, the name ‘Yu Yao’ sounded somewhat familiar. He quickly remembered something.

Jiang Zhonglin rarely talked about his late wife, but Nie Wenqing recalled one time, years ago, when they were drinking together. One of Jiang’s students had won a big award, and in his joy, Jiang drank a little too much. It was then that he mentioned the name ‘Yu Yao.’

Jiang had cried as he spoke, something that had never happened before. Normally, no matter what difficulties he faced, Jiang wouldn’t even frown, but when talking about his long-deceased wife, he couldn’t hold back his tears.

Remembering this, Nie Wenqing felt a deep sense of compassion and didn’t know what to say. He took a while to process everything, then glanced toward the kitchen, where he could faintly see Yu Yao’s silhouette. Leaning closer to Jiang Zhonglin, he quietly asked, “So, what are you going to do now?” He was genuinely worried about his old friend. Although they had been married before, the age gap between them was now too great—it just didn’t seem right. Nie Wenqing knew Jiang Zhonglin well; he wasn’t like those old men who chased after young women. Jiang wouldn’t be happy just because he suddenly had a young and beautiful wife.