“That’s right,” Grandpa Jiang poured himself a cup of tea, leaned back in his chair, and took a slow sip.

He said leisurely, “People often say that to be a good family elder, one must sometimes turn a blind eye and a deaf ear. But even though this is already the fourth generation, and it shouldn’t be my business anymore, I can’t just sit back and watch as the children are raised in a way that strips them of all their vitality. That’s not love—you’re ruining the child!”

Second Uncle Jiang was a typical macho man and rarely got involved in the education of children at home.

Besides, Jiang Weixian was from a younger generation, so he was even less inclined to interfere in his education. Hearing Grandpa Jiang’s words, he was taken aback.

“Dad, it can’t be that serious, can it?”

Grandpa Jiang didn’t look at him; instead, he turned to Jiang Zhijie. “You keep Weixian cooped up at home studying every day. Has his performance improved?”

Jiang Zhijie shook his head, frowning. “No improvement, actually, his grades have gone down.”

Grandpa Jiang wasn’t surprised at all. “I figured as much. Your method of educating him is wrong.”

Grandpa Jiang, being older and less energetic now, would sometimes feel exhausted even when teaching Cen Huaian to play chess.

After sitting for a while, his back would start to hurt.

“People are not pets that can be locked up all the time. Even cats and dogs would go crazy if they were kept inside all day…”

Having raised several children in the family and guided them to success, and with his many years of experience as a teacher.

Grandpa Jiang naturally understood children’s psychology better than Jiang Zhijie and Bai Han, and he knew how to educate them properly.

He patiently broke down his advice on how to manage Jiang Weixian according to his temperament.

As Jiang Zhijie listened, he had a thoughtful expression on his face.

Grandpa Jiang took another sip of tea. “If you don’t want to ruin the child, then follow my advice.”

If Bai Han and Jiang Zhijie continued to force Weixian to study the way they had been, sooner or later, problems would arise.

“Grandpa, I understand.”

After leaving the study, Second Uncle Jiang’s brow remained furrowed, and Jiang Zhijie had the same pensive look.

Chu Xia glanced at the two of them and whispered to Cen Zhengnian, “Did Grandpa talk to them about Weixian?”

Cen Zhengnian fed her a shrimp he had peeled, then took another one and began peeling it with his long, slender fingers, as if he were working on a delicate piece of art.

“Most likely.”

Cen Zhengnian wasn’t as close to Second Uncle Jiang’s family as he was to First Uncle Jiang’s family, and his relationship with Jiang Zhijie was even more distant.

Chu Xia swallowed the shrimp and skipped the topic of Weixian.

Other than Grandpa Jiang, no one else could interfere in that matter.

“I want that crab,” Chu Xia pointed to a plate of steamed crabs not far away.

Cen Zhengnian finished peeling the shrimp in his hand, placed it near her lips, and with a soft “hmm,” he reached for a crab to peel.

After the National Day holiday, it seemed Grandpa Jiang’s words had an effect.

When Cen Huaian and Zhang Lu went to visit Grandpa Jiang on a Sunday, they could see Jiang Weixian again.

Jianh Weixian seemed much better, too.

In mid-October, the corn in the village on the southern outskirts of the capital started to ripen.

You could even hear the sounds of farmers harvesting from the research institute.

Chu Xia took Cen Huaian to experience harvesting corn, agreeing with the surrounding farmers to help for free.

They were more than happy to have the extra help.

Even without Chu Xia taking An An to experience this, his childhood experiences would ensure he never wasted food.

After two hours of helping harvest corn, Chu Xia’s hands were covered in red marks from the corn leaves—itchy and painful.

Cen Huaian had the same red marks on her face and hands.

Since they weren’t used to farm work, their skin was too delicate.

The villagers who worked with them didn’t have this issue.

Chu Xia applied the allergy ointment she had made to both of them, and soon the itch and pain subsided.

“An An, today we’re going to eat the fruits of our labor—corn porridge.”

The villagers they helped were kind and didn’t mind that they worked slowly.

As they left, they even gave the two of them a basket of corn.

Chu Xia borrowed a mill from the village, ground the corn into coarse cornmeal, and made porridge with sweet potatoes at home. It smelled delicious.

When Cen Zhengnian came home, Chu Xia proudly told him, “Today’s corn porridge is the result of my and An An’s hard work.”

As he took off his jacket, Cen Zhengnian smiled and said, “Then I must savor it carefully.”

Whether it was because the corn was their own harvest or something else, Chu Xia found today’s porridge especially sweet, and Cen Huaian seemed to enjoy it just as much.

She held her bowl, took a satisfied sip, and looked at Cen Zhengnian. “Isn’t this porridge better than the cornmeal we buy?”

Cen Zhengnian nodded, a smile in his eyes. “It has a special flavor.”

Chu Xia’s eyes widened. “What special flavor?”

“The taste of hard work.”

Chu Xia laughed and nodded proudly. “Exactly. This is the result of our labor. How could it not have the flavor of hard work?”

The next day, Chu Xia went to the hospital for her shift.

Although her patients were still fewer than Dr. Yan’s, she was satisfied with the steady flow of people.

At noon, Chu Xia and Feng Xiaoyuan were walking out of the hospital when a couple approached, sweating and carrying a heavy sack.

They placed it in front of Chu Xia and smiled sincerely. “Dr. Luo, this is cornmeal and cornflour we made ourselves. It’s very fragrant. We specially brought you a bag to try.”

The wife was the woman Chu Xia had treated for ascites.

The couple, nervous but full of gratitude, rubbed their hands together as they spoke.

“No, no, I can’t accept this. Thank you, though,” Chu Xia declined.

“We insist, Dr. Luo. Please, it’s a token of our appreciation.”

“I’m a doctor; it’s my duty to treat people. You’ve already paid for the treatment. I really can’t accept this.”

“Dr. Luo, this has nothing to do with the payment. You saved my life, and that’s worth far more than this bag of corn. We really want you to have it.”

They dropped the sack and quickly turned to leave, disappearing before Chu Xia could stop them.

She looked helplessly at the heavy bag of cornmeal and cornflour.

Feng Xiaoyuan opened the sack to peek inside.

It was filled with two smaller bags—one of cornmeal and one of cornflour, ground finely without a trace of dirt, clearly well-selected.

Several doctors and nurses passing by saw the scene and smiled kindly at Chu Xia.

One doctor said, “First time receiving a patient’s gratitude? You’ll get used to it.”

Feng Xiaoyuan tied the sack back up and jumped to Chu Xia’s side, full of admiration. “You’re amazing, Senior Sister! I hope I can help many patients in the future too!”

Chu Xia patted her on the shoulder. “You will.”

Still, Chu Xia wasn’t sure how long it would take to finish the bag of cornmeal at home.

Since her work involved frequent trips for rural medical assistance, she decided to donate the corn to the hospital cafeteria so everyone could enjoy it.

She found the head of the cafeteria, and soon two cooks came to take the sack away.

Chuxia had specifically instructed to call her when the food was ready.

The patient’s goodwill should not be let down.

In the afternoon, Chuxia went to the hospital for work and received some teasing from Dr. Yan, who asked her what it felt like to receive a thank-you gift from a patient.

Chuxia thought carefully and said, “I feel happy and fulfilled, like my medical skills haven’t gone to waste.

There’s also a bit of anxiety, fearing that I might let the patient down.”

Dr. Yan nodded, saying that when he first cured a serious patient, his feelings were quite similar to Chuxia’s.

“That’s the right mindset to have. A good doctor should have a sense of reverence for life, always remember to learn and improve their skills.”

Later, Chuxia did not encounter any more patients bringing gifts, which was a relief.

However, she worked even harder on medical books during her spare time.

High school students experience various emotional changes beyond just studying. Even in the top classes, while everyone is focused on their studies, they also pay attention to who is dating whom.

But this didn’t concern Zhang Lu or Cen Huai’an.

One of them hadn’t come of age yet, and the other was too young to be interested in such matters.

Zhang Lu had many friends, and her female friends often shared with her about who they liked and who they wanted to be with, even asking Zhang Lu to help deliver love letters.

Zhang Lu rejected all such requests: “If you’re not even willing to deliver a love letter yourself, how can you say you like someone? Just forget it.”

Tang Song, sitting behind Zhang Lu, clenched the paper in his hand as he heard her say this.

His lowered eyes made it hard to see his emotional changes.

“But being rejected is really embarrassing. Lu Lu, wouldn’t you be afraid of being laughed at if you were rejected after delivering a love letter?”

Zhang Lu waved her hand nonchalantly and said, “No, not at all. Who says that just because you like someone, they have to like you back? Expressing your feelings is already brave. If someone laughs at you, it’s their own lack of taste. Don’t feel embarrassed. Besides, I won’t be delivering love letters. High school is a time to focus on studying. I won’t waste my youth on such things. I want to get into the best university! Right, An An?”

Cen Huai’an agreed with a simple “Mm,” as he also aimed to get into the best university.

Tang Song slowly relaxed his grip on the paper, which he then stuffed into the back of his desk drawer, focusing on the questions he had not yet answered.

Zhang Lu had also received many love letters, and she returned those with names on them saying she was not interested in romance at the moment.

For those without names, she kept them at home.

A friend once asked her, “Since you’re not interested, why keep those letters?”

Zhang Lu replied, “It’s the sender’s heartfelt intention. Even if I’m not interested, I shouldn’t waste it. Of course, I have to keep them well!”

She said this with a firm expression, as she stuffed another love letter into her bag.

Cen Huai’an never received any love letters because he was too young.

To the high school students, he was like a younger brother, and no one was interested in him, no matter how good his grades or looks were.

Cen Huai’an, Zhang Lu, and Tang Song all attended the school’s math Olympiad class.

Every week, in addition to regular classes, they had evening self-study sessions and math Olympiad lessons, taught by their homeroom teacher, Mr. Jiang.

Mr. Jiang taught high school math Olympiad knowledge and tested them daily.

His questions were more advanced and challenging than those of Chuxia’s middle school math Olympiad teacher.

During each classroom test, Cen Huai’an was always the first to finish and submit his paper, often getting all the answers correct and overwhelming his classmates.