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Chapter 23: Exploring Future Directions

Lin Tingjun came home Friday night and left Sunday afternoon—altogether eating seven meals at home. Excluding breakfast, that left five main meals.

Xu Jingchu spent quite a while planning out each dish. As the saying goes: dumplings when setting out, noodles when coming back. So Friday night was noodles, Sunday night dumplings, and in between, stir-fried dishes.

If the food she made tasted better than what Lin Tingjun ate at school, maybe he’d want to come home more often.

She remembered he seemed to like fried bean paste noodles the most. So Friday afternoon, she deliberately went grocery shopping early to buy fattier cuts of pork—if she went late, she might not get any.

Fatty meat renders more oil, which makes the fried sauce much tastier.

The toppings were ready, the sauce was fried, but Lin Tingjun still hadn’t come home. The Lin family of three sat waiting at the table. Night had already fallen.

“Auntie Zhang, did Brother Tingjun say what time he’d be back? I need to know when to boil the noodles.” Xu Jingchu asked.

“He didn’t say…” Zhang Qiuyun looked troubled.

“Hmph! If you ask me, he just doesn’t want to come home.” Lin Jianbai had been thrilled about his son’s return—he even hurried back from work early. But now it was dark and still no sign of him. Thinking of his son’s past behavior only made him angrier.

“I’ll go check.” Lin Tingyu couldn’t sit still. Even though his brother was aloof, he always treated him well—sharing food, toys, even making things for him. He really missed his brother.

As soon as he reached the door, he shouted back inside: “Sister Jingchu! Boil the noodles, my brother’s back!”

“Got it!” Xu Jingchu rushed into the kitchen, while a smile bloomed on Zhang Qiuyun’s face.

“Brother, why so late?” Lin Tingyu quickly took the luggage from him.

“Friday’s crowded. I had to wait for two buses before I could squeeze on.” That answer eased Lin Jianbai’s frown considerably.

“Tired? Sit, son. Jingchu’s boiling the noodles—we’ve all been waiting.” Zhang Qiuyun pulled him down beside her.

Through the kitchen door crack, Lin Tingjun could see Xu Jingchu moving around. Back at school, he often thought of her.

At meals, he’d recall her cooking. While studying, he’d picture her asking him questions. And… in the middle of the night, the face he dreamed of was always hers—only to wake and helplessly wash himself.

He didn’t think much of it—it was just normal biology. Other than his mother, the woman he saw most was Xu Jingchu. So, it was only natural.

“Uncle Lin, here’s your noodles. Brother Tingjun, yours too.” Smiling, Xu Jingchu set bowls in front of each person. That same face from his dreams—he shook his head to clear it.

Dinner passed peacefully enough.

Afterward, Zhang Qiuyun and Xu Jingchu washed dishes in the kitchen, while Lin Tingjun played chess with his father.

“Jingchu, do you think I should just ask him directly where he wants to work after graduation?” Zhang Qiuyun whispered, uncertain. She wanted to ask but was afraid of hearing an answer she didn’t like.

“Of course, Auntie. If I were you, I’d ask early. Otherwise, by the time Brother Tingjun graduates, it’ll be too late for input.”

“Good point.” Zhang Qiuyun nodded. There was still a year left—they had time to talk things through gradually.

Xu Jingchu was also happy about his return. Even if his explanations were often impossibly advanced, they were still better than self-studying. Each time he guided her, she gained insights into whole categories of problems.

She had to admit—top students thought differently. His perspective was always higher, broader. Sometimes, one hint from him could solve an entire type of question.

This time, she’d prepared a stack of mistakes to ask him about. Since she’d cooked such a good meal, surely he wouldn’t refuse.

Tonight probably wasn’t the time, but tomorrow morning—once Uncle Lin and Auntie left for work—she’d find a chance. She planned happily.

“Brother Tingjun, could you help me with a couple of problems when you’re free?” She hugged her exercise books, eyes bright like a little deer in the forest at dawn—too earnest to refuse.

“Sure. Let’s go to your room.” He agreed.

He had been reflecting on his teaching style. Back at school, he’d even discussed it with classmates: why was it that his explanations—though clear to him—confused others?

One classmate teased, “I don’t know who you’re tutoring, but your thinking is too advanced for beginners. You should start from what she already knows.”

He had nodded. The same classmate then pried, “Wait… our lofty genius is tutoring someone? Who is she? A girl?”

“No. Just a younger sister.”

“Blood-related?”

“No.”

“Ohhh. Well, Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu also called each other ‘siblings,’ but we all know what that meant.”

“That’s inaccurate. Jia Baoyu and Lin Daiyu were cousins—they were related.” Lin Tingjun corrected seriously.

The classmate just pushed up his glasses. “With EQ like yours, never mind—I was overthinking. What girl would want to date you anyway? She’s probably just obsessed with studying.”

That “obsessed with studying” girl now looked at him with eager eyes. “Brother Tingjun, teach me?”

“…You’ve already taught yourself this much?” He was surprised.

Her pace was so fast that, if not for her thick stack of notes, he’d think she was just skimming.

“Mm. After you and Tingyu went back to school, there hasn’t been much to do. I cook one meal a day, do some chores, and spend the rest studying. There are just over 200 days until the college entrance exam. I made myself a countdown notebook—every day counts.”

She showed him the makeshift countdown book she’d crafted from scrap paper.

“Brother Tingjun, I live and eat in your house for free, and Auntie even gives me money. Qin Yajuan doesn’t need your help anymore. Compared to her, I really feel ashamed. I have to get into university this year.”

She meant every word. As much as she disliked Qin Yajuan, she had to admit—right now, Qin Yajuan was doing better than her.

In her past life, Qin Yajuan shamelessly lived here, claiming to be Lin Tingjun’s future wife. But she herself had no such excuse—she couldn’t stay at the Lin’s without guilt.

“What’s your target?” Lin Tingjun felt like he was seeing her anew—resolute, determined, willing to endure hardship.

“I don’t have a target yet,” she lowered her head. “Compared to students who’ve studied steadily for years, I’m at a huge disadvantage. How can I possibly catch up in just one year? If I can simply get into any university, that’s already good enough.”

“What major?” he pressed.

“Business. Something in management.” She had long since decided—she’d done business in her past life, and would again in this one. Nothing made money faster. But she’d need the knowledge to back it up.

Business and management? That was far from his own field. He couldn’t offer much advice.

“Brother Tingjun… do you think what I’m studying is too shallow? That I can’t contribute to the country like you?” she asked quietly, seeing his silence.

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