The moment Chen Huan’er saw her parents at the airport, tears burst from her eyes.

While they weren’t looking, she hid behind the bustling crowd and quietly wiped away those traitorous tears.

Just before boarding, Huan’er had received the news – that jointly published paper, her only achievement during her time abroad, now showed Mark and the Indian student as joint first authors, while she had been forcibly pushed down.

There had been no warning. Initially, Mark had proposed the concept, with her and the Indian student leading several graduate students as the main force to complete it together. However, the Indian student soon withdrew from the project due to academic conflicts, barely finishing the opening section. The later experiments, argument validation, and most of the writing work were all handled by Huan’er. It wasn’t that she was naive enough to be taken advantage of; she simply never imagined that by not harboring ulterior motives, the facts before her eyes could be turned upside down.

The sense of grievance stayed with her for the dozen or so hours from takeoff through transfer to landing. That grievance was like a bucket of cold water extinguishing the flame in her heart. Chen Huan’er asked herself countless times – was it because of this paper with its decent impact factor? Was it the first author’s title that could have helped her? Was it for those nights spent crunching numbers until dawn, enduring stomach pain? No, her grievance ran far deeper than these. That flame was what she had pursued and yearned for, what she had believed in with incomparable devotion, the academia she had willingly devoted years to studying and chasing – her dream had been trampled.

That pure land had been tainted by twisted thoughts and turned into a wasteland.

That was why Huan’er cried.

Her parents hugged her, saying she must be tired and finally home. They didn’t understand her current feelings, and she didn’t want them to know, so she could only hold back her tears and tell them how much she had missed them.

This native soil, this harbor, this embrace – I missed you all so much.

The weekend Jing Qi Ci returned, Jing’s Mom arranged a dinner gathering.

It was at home, with old friends gathered together. The only unfamiliar face was Old Liu, who brought half a seafood market with him.

Lobster, spider crab, mantis shrimp, scallops, mandarin fish – Old Liu somewhat uncomfortably told everyone, “Heard both mother and daughter love seafood. Just got back from a business trip, didn’t have time to prepare anything else.”

He omitted the subject – Jing Qi Ci’s love for seafood was probably mentioned by Jing Mom, and Jing Mom’s taste preferences were learned through long-term observation.

Song Dad pulled Huan’er’s father into the kitchen, “Today you all rest, let Chen Lei and me show our skills.”

“Brother, don’t disappoint,” Chen’s Mom teased. “With such good ingredients in your hands, we might flip the table if you mess up.”

“Old Song’s cooking is quite good now, he’s graduated,” Song’s Mom jumped in with a smile. “Besides, your Chen Lei has learned from the cooking unit before, how bad could it be?”

“All he’s got left is that learning experience.” Chen’s Mom snorted with a laugh. “Zero practical experience.”

“Qian Lina, leave me some face!” Chen’s Dad’s voice of protest came from the kitchen.

“He’s upset.” Jing’s Mom laughed while asking, “Really don’t need help?”

“No need,” the kitchen duo answered in unison.

While the parents bantered and teased in the living room, Jing Qi Ci’s room was surprisingly quiet. Song Cong leaned against the bookshelf with arms crossed, Huan’er sat cross-legged on the bed, while today’s protagonist was taking a work call.

“Tomorrow, have Engineer Xu take Little Qiao to work overtime and check the situation on-site. I think it’s a compatibility issue. If it can’t be resolved, consolidate the problems for feedback on Monday. Also, have the product team create a simplified version of the user manual – doctors don’t have three or four hours to spare for training every time.” Jing Qi Ci faced the window as he spoke to the other end, “I’ll be back Sunday night. Call anytime if there are issues.”

Huan’er and Song Cong exchanged a knowing look.

Of course, they had seen Jing Qi Ci at work before, but that impression was still stuck in his early days when he was overwhelmed with daily tasks, tackling whatever came his way. Now the recruit had become a commander – from his expression to his tone, if not for this unexpected work call, they wouldn’t have known he had already adapted to his current role.

“Okay, that’s it for now.” Jing Qi Ci hung up, turning around at the same time.

The presence of the two before him seemed to pull him back to reality. He paused for a moment as he put down the phone, “Where were we?”

Song Cong raised an eyebrow at the phone, “Something up?”

“Our imaging platform isn’t running smoothly at a hospital. Having two colleagues go check it tomorrow, shouldn’t be a big issue.” Jing Qi Ci brushed it off, then continued, “What were you two saying I should pay attention to?”

“To be polite,” Huan’er continued the interrupted topic. “Uncle Liu formally visited for the first time, basically just to meet you. Don’t give him the cold shoulder.”

Since Old Liu’s arrival, Jing Qi Ci had only given a brief greeting before retreating to his room. Although they knew he was uncomfortable and uneasy, points that needed addressing had to be pointed out frankly.

Behind closed doors, only three people remained, and among them, there was never any need for hesitation in speaking.

“I wasn’t cold.” Jing Qi Ci turned his head somewhat irritably. “I just… don’t know what to say.”

What should he say, when in the long years ahead, that stranger outside might become his stepfather?

“You’re making Aunt Lin overthink this.” Song Cong stepped forward and patted his brother’s shoulder, half-joking, half-serious, “Weren’t you just showing that professional vibe on the phone? Bring out that mature social side of yours first.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

Song Cong didn’t know how to persuade him and shot Huan’er a pleading look.

“How about this.” Huan’er jumped off the bed, slowly shuffling her feet into slippers as she moved to Jing Qi Ci’s side. “Just treat it like you’re evaluating a potential partner, following principles of fairness, justice, and openness. If he passes, great; if there are areas for improvement, point them out. He came with sincerity – we can’t just reject him outright.”

Jing Qi Ci had been maintaining a stern face, but hearing this, he suddenly smiled, “How did this turn into wielding weapons in your version?”

Huan’er ruffled his hair, “Comrade, first think about whether this makes sense.” She then opened the door, “I’ll go check on my dad, make sure Old Chen doesn’t get too excited and cook himself.”

As soon as she left, Song Cong quickly closed the door.

Jing Qi Ci looked suspicious.

“Huan’er hasn’t told you yet, has she?” Song Cong slightly furrowed his brow. “About her paper.”

By the time Old Liu left, he was already unsteady on his feet – meeting two drinking veterans like Song Dad and Chen Dad, it would have been strange not to drink too much on a first visit.

In middle-aged people’s minds, drinking often represents a kind of goodwill. Once drunk, inhibitions lower, and everything that needs to be said gets said – in a way, it becomes a vessel for exchanging truth and intentions.

Old Liu was a good drunk, neither crying nor making a scene. Even after getting into the taxi, he was still smiling and waving, “Next time at my place, drinks are on me.”

The only unexpected development at this dinner was – that Jing Qi Ci got drunk too. No one had noticed until he inexplicably collapsed on the dining table just as Old Liu was leaving.

Song Cong helped him back to his room, then told Huan’er who had followed, “We’re heading out, you look after him.”

Song’s Dad was also red-faced today, rushing home to care for his mobility-impaired mother.

Huan’er covered Jing Qi Ci with a blanket, then drew the curtains and closed the door.

Just as she was about to clean up the dining table, she received a call from her mother, “Aunt Lin went to send Old Liu back, he really couldn’t manage on his own. I’ve settled your dad and am going to pick her up.”

Huan’er acknowledged, then teased, “Such deep sisterly love.”

“Qi Ci didn’t drink a single toast with Old Liu at dinner – how could your Aunt Lin feel good about that?” Chen’s Mom sighed softly. “Having someone by your side means you don’t have to swallow all the bitterness alone.”

Only then did Huan’er understand her mother’s thoughtfulness, muttering in Jing Qi Ci’s defense, “It’s their first meeting – he can’t be as warm as if they were old friends from a past life. Qi Ci isn’t resistant, he just doesn’t know how to act. This isn’t something that can turn into sworn brotherhood over one meal.”

“Oh my, look at all these fancy words – I don’t usually see you so eloquent.” Chen’s Mom laughed, then continued, “You have someone you care about, and I have my friend – let’s not argue, mother and daughter.”

Huan’er understood her mother’s meaning but still habitually stood her ground, “I’m just stating facts!”

“Stop right there.” Chen’s Mom cut her off, then suddenly asked, “Is Qi Ci drunk?”

“Really?” Huan’er keenly caught the keyword but didn’t immediately understand her mother’s implication.

“He and your dad could drink half a jin of baijiu between them, and today what was it, three bottles of beer?” Chen’s Mom made her point and stopped there. “I’m going to pick her up, hanging up.”

Summer days are long, with occasional cicada songs drifting through the window.

Huan’er glanced at the closed door, hesitating briefly before taking action. She methodically cleaned the dining table, covered the leftover food with plastic wrap and put it in the refrigerator, threw the dishes into the sink, and turned on the water to soak them, before finally carrying a glass of water toward his bedroom.

She didn’t knock – Huan’er knew he must be awake.

Her mother’s words had enlightened her. Jing Qi Ci’s pretense of drunkenness was just a clumsy form of avoidance – he couldn’t bring himself to show concern while seeing Old Liu off, yet feared appearing cold would hurt Jing Mom’s feelings. His obvious “drunkenness” was merely an expedient measure.

The open door let in light from the living room, and Huan’er used that faint illumination to see his state.

He lay sprawled on the bed, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, blinking only occasionally.

“Want some water?” Huan’er asked.

Jing Qi Ci dazedly sat up, took the glass from her hand, and drained it in one go.

“I’ll get you more,” Huan’er spoke but was suddenly pulled back. He shook his head at her, “No need.”

Huan’er was about to move, but the grip on her wrist tightened. She gave in, “I won’t leave, just let me put down the glass.”

Only then did Jing Qi Ci release her, watching as she placed the empty glass on the desk and sat back down beside him.

“Quite the actor.” Huan’er smoothed his forehead hair, smiling. “Even fooled me and Song Cong.”

“My head is a bit dizzy.” Jing Qi Ci held her hand against his face, rubbing it hard like a child throwing a tantrum.

Huan’er rested her chin on his raised knee, tilting her head to ask, “What are you thinking about?”

“Thinking about my dad. Wondering if things would be different now if I had given up on soccer that year and focused on academics.” Jing Qi Ci shook his head self-mockingly. “All just pointless what-ifs.”

“There, there.” Huan’er used two fingers to lift the corners of his mouth, speaking gently, “Engineer Jing, smile for me.”

“I…” Jing Qi Ci tilted his head back, letting out a deep sigh in the interplay of light and shadow. “I seem to always mess things up, and I don’t know why everything turns into such a mess.” He was silent for a long time before taking her hand again and kissing her palm. “When I was in London, I went to see Mark once at your school. Your paper… Song Cong told me everything. It’s my fault.”

Huan’er truly hadn’t known about this. “You went to see Mark?”

Jing Qi Ci ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, “Said I was your fiancé, said you were treated unfairly, said… well, nothing particularly nice.”

“Really?”

“I wish it wasn’t true.”

Huan’er tilted her head, half-smiling, “I mean, the fiancé part – really?”

“Hm?”

“A live-in son-in-law is like spilled water.” Huan’er contentedly pinched his chin. “We’ll be on the same household registry soon.”

Jing Qi Ci was stunned.

“Say yes.”

“Yes… no, wait, how did I become a live-in son-in-law?”

“My Old Chen family with our scholarly background, car, and house – you feel wronged marrying in?” Huan’er glared. “Your ancestral graves must be smoking with good fortune for meeting me.”

Jing Qi Ci suddenly laughed – this girl’s thought process was more complex than the quaternary protein structure.

He lowered his head, playing with her fingers like a child who had done something wrong, “About the paper… you’re not blaming me?”

“It had nothing to do with you to begin with.” Huan’er paused briefly. “Whether you went or not, Mark had already made his decision. I’m not the kind of student he’d praise in the future. Qi Ci, I was indeed angry about this. When I first got back, I called Professor Ding saying I wanted to report it. I have evidence and wasn’t afraid of taking him down. Do you know what Professor Ding said?”

Jing Qi Ci frowned, “To endure it?”

“Yes, to endure it.” Huan’er nodded. “Professor Ding said making it public wouldn’t benefit me, and he didn’t want this filth to make me lose confidence. He said academic work is also about fate – the fate between people and the unknown. Seeds need to experience wind, frost, and rain before they can bloom and bear fruit. These past few days, I’ve come to understand – research is vast, like farmland that will always have pests, like the sky where the sun rises in the east while it rains in the west. Nothing so vast can remain pristine. All I can do is make my research solid. Whether it takes years, decades, or longer, let time prove that my choice wasn’t wrong.”

Huan’er had rarely spoken with such passion before. It felt somewhat unreal, but on this quiet summer night, in front of Jing Qi Ci, she felt everything had a tangible direction. Her ideals, her ambitions, those irrepressible hopes for the future – Jing Qi Ci’s presence was almost like a force steadying her. March forward bravely, because even if she had to retreat, he would catch her.

He was exactly that kind of force.

“Huan’er,” Jing Qi Ci gazed at her steadily, for so long, so very long, until she was almost about to ask “What?” when he finally spoke in a hoarse voice –

“Marry me.”