“Speaking of your mom, Xiang Xiang has really had a tough couple of years—”
Lately, she often trailed off like this.
Every time, Yu Jinyang’s heart sank a little.
Once he saw her breathing steady, fanning idly with the fan, he relaxed.
He brought a thin blanket to cover her, listened to her snoring softly, and gently closed the courtyard door behind him.
When he visited Yu Wanjuan again, she was spry as ever, ready to chat about old friends—completely forgetting she told him the same stories multiple times yesterday.
His eldest aunt happened to be helping sort the old lady’s seasonal clothes and had baked a corn cake for him.
Yu Jinyang quickly accepted it and cleverly changed the subject.
“I’m starving.”
“There’s more in the pot. Don’t choke,” his aunt said, surprised as he devoured it.
“Didn’t you eat lunch?”
“Yes, just played ball with Gao Dian and got hungry again. By the way, did Great-Grandma eat?”
“Had some porridge.”
As she spoke, she took out a quilt to sun-dry and was unfolding the drying rod.
Yu Jinyang bit into his corn cake and helped lift the other side of the quilt, but his aunt scolded him, pulling it away.
“Young Master, don’t move. Your hands are greasy. Don’t get it dirty.”
Yu Jinyang smiled, showing his hands.
“This hand hasn’t touched the corn cake.”
His aunt still found him a nuisance.
“Go keep Great-Grandma company.”
Yu Jinyang wasn’t keen to go, afraid the old lady would bring up Li Yingqiao again.
He really didn’t want to hear how many life experiences she’d “gained” out there—same old stories, just different retellings.
He understood the old lady’s meaning: all his friends were drifting far away, while he was staying at home mooching off his family.
As soon as he sat down, he heard the old lady telling him to crouch and whispering juicy gossip into his ear: “Chu Mei got plastic surgery.”
Chu Mei was his eldest aunt.
The old lady glanced slyly at her as she worked, then anxiously rubbed both sides of her cheeks.
“She shaved down both sides; her original square jaw is gone.”
Yu Jinyang knew that because of this, his aunt had argued fiercely with their grandfather.
“Since her divorce from Uncle Fang, she can’t stand the word ‘square’—if anyone says her face is square, she won’t stand for it.”
“Just because your uncle’s surname is Fang?”
“Exactly.”
“If you talk nonsense again, I’ll hit you!”
The old lady glared and raised her fan high, ready to strike.
Yu Jinyang, a grown man, crouched beside her.
Under the golden sunlight, his hair was fluffy like a golden retriever’s.
He smiled and asked, “How do you know so much?”
“How wouldn’t I?”
She leaned back in her chair, fanning herself with mock seriousness.
“I even know that nowadays, if a young man is good-looking and well-built, they call him a ‘double-door refrigerator’!”
Yu Jinyang couldn’t help but smile faintly.
Standing up, he adjusted the rocking chair’s height and said, “That’s Gao Dian, right? He’s been telling you all kinds of nonsense again.”
The old lady glanced at him and smiled.
Gao Dian sometimes accompanied Yu Jinyang to visit Great-Grandma, always eager to explain the latest youth slang to her.
Now, at 103 years old, her body might be failing, but her mind occasionally caught the current waves of culture.
Every year, the city government sends care packages to registered centenarians in Fangjia Village, asking if they have any special needs.
This “cyber granny” would always spout nonsense—
“I don’t have any special needs, just tired of you taking photos of me every day. I’ve probably taken more photos in the past few years than my entire lifetime. But the thing I hate most is taking pictures. I might have to revise my longevity secret: the key to living to 100 is minding your own business; to live longer, it’s best not to be found by you all.”
“And, did you find a match for my great-grandson last year?”
Yu Jinyang had warned the city officials countless times beforehand: his great-grandma was a rambling talker, not to be taken seriously.
But the officials took their work seriously, even putting the matter in their annual report, reporting to their superiors who mentioned it briefly at a government meeting.
As a result, the Fengtan news broadcast unexpectedly aired Yu Jinyang’s matchmaking announcement—morning, noon, and evening news all running it repeatedly.
Yu Jinyang had seriously considered calling the police.
Because on the announcement, his height was listed as 1.79 meters.
He had already been 1.80 meters right after high school graduation—well, 1.795 to be precise.
While at F University, because of his decent looks, he was once recruited by the badminton club as a ball retriever.
The club leader, surprised by his popularity, insisted he continue.
Eventually, after some training, he played officially for several years and even won a runner-up trophy at a university badminton championship.
When he went to Chicago for an exchange year, packing his bags, he suddenly noticed he could reach the crystal chandelier above his head. His mom measured him and found he had grown another six centimeters.
Tang Xiang specifically consulted a doctor, who advised taking an X-ray. Usually, the bone plates close after college, but if growth continues, more tests are needed to check for hormone disorders or gigantism.
Alarmed, Yu Jinyang hastily tied all his badminton rackets together and gave them to Gao Dian.
Fortunately, he didn’t grow any more overseas, stabilizing at 1.88 meters in the morning and 1.86 meters at night—although doctors say the nighttime measurement is closer to his true height.
He would adjust his height report on forms depending on urgency.
Although the matchmaking announcement wasn’t his idea, who knew it would hit the news? Reporting his morning height seemed reasonable.
Because of all this bad luck, he thought, “Might as well just get a haircut.”
But now it was 2025, and Tony and his team’s skills had advanced considerably in this ever-changing city.
As they left, the new receptionist on shift was unaware of the earlier exchange and stopped Yu Jinyang.
“Are you satisfied with today’s service? Any suggestions?”
Yu Jinyang pushed open the glass door and let Li Yingqiao go out first.
As Li Yingqiao passed through the door he held open, she heard his voice from above her head: “You should get Director Keven an assistant—he’s been buying coffee forever.”
Pfft. Li Yingqiao instinctively looked up at him, about to laugh, and suddenly realized—he really was much taller than before.
The next second, her reflex was to check his shoes to see if he was wearing elevator insoles.
She recalled that during the sophomore summer, he was just about 1.8 meters.
So when they walked out of the barbershop, Li Yingqiao deliberately fell behind to watch his shoe heels.
Yu Jinyang noticed her shifting gaze and without looking back said, “Stop staring. My leg’s broken and reattached.”
Huh?
“See?”
Li Yingqiao nodded absentmindedly, momentarily losing pace.
Then she caught up.
Yu Jinyang waited at the roadside for the light to cross, planning to buy himself a hat across the street.
He looked back at her and smiled.
“Li Yingqiao, why do you look like someone who’s about to be conned out of her retirement fund?”
Li Yingqiao caught the meaning and slowly walked over.
She brushed her windblown hair away from her forehead and smiled.
“Tsk tsk, Yu Miaomiao, you’re talking nonsense now.”
“No, I’m serious.”
He shifted his gaze away from her to the fading sign of the wooden toy city across the street.
“So, where are you headed?”
“You?”
Li Yingqiao asked lightly.
“Where are you going? If we have time, we’ll catch up. If not, next time.”
July and August were Fengtan’s typhoon season, and the sky often changed suddenly.
The weather now wore two faces—as Li Yingqiao and Yu Jinyang entered the barbershop, the wind was fierce though it wasn’t raining yet.
Trees lining the sidewalk were being torn back and forth, and a few shared bikes toppled over with loud thuds.
“All right, you go wait for Gao Dian first,” Yu Jinyang said as he bent down and expertly righted the fallen shared bikes.
Then he looked at her.
“I’m going to buy a hat. This mess on my head is so ugly I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Then buy some sleeping pills. Why buy a hat?”
Li Yingqiao smiled.
“Then I have to wear the hat when I take the pills, right?”
He straightened the bikes and passed by her expressionlessly.