Wu Naijuan had a rather special job.

Whenever new friends were present, someone would always suggest guessing Naijuan’s profession as a game.

Seven questions only.

“You work on land.” “Yes.”

“Your work is clerical.” “Yes.”

“You don’t have to wear a uniform.” “Yes.”

“Are you equipped with weapons? Or do you use special instruments?” “No.”

“Your clients are ordinary citizens.” “Yes.”

“Your work is dangerous.” “No.”

“Your salary is quite generous.” “Well, moderate.”

“I know—psychologist!”

Naijuan smiled, “Close, keep guessing.”

“Naijuan, you must work at a children’s correctional facility.”

“No, I only have an indirect relationship with children.”

“Radiation therapist.”

Naijuan’s good friend Wang Bihao laughed, “Why do you keep guessing she’s medical staff?”

“Good pay, indoor work, dealing with citizens—if not a doctor, then close to it, don’t you think?”

“Naijuan, tell us the answer.”

“Naijuan has a particularly peaceful and serene temperament. Her work might involve caring for people.”

At this moment, a young man suddenly said softly, “Counselor.”

Wang Bihao was surprised, “Oh, please be more specific.”

“No direct contact with children, so not a child psychologist. You’re a marriage counselor.”

Naijuan stood up, “This gentleman guessed correctly.”

The young man smiled, “I’m Li Zhizhong.”

“Impressive! How did you guess it? The prize is a bottle of champagne.”

“Marriage counseling? This is a new profession—do marriages need counseling?”

Wang Bihao said, “Yes. When marital relationships go wrong, when couples have irresolvable problems, aside from separating immediately, they can both seek help, find experts to analyze problems and discover solutions.”

“Naijuan, are you married yourself?”

Naijuan smiled, “I’m single.”

“Hmm, never been married?”

“Correct.”

“Then how do you counsel others? It’s like someone who’s never written a novel teaching people how to write good novels.”

Naijuan smiled without speaking.

“Hey,” Wang Bihao said, “heart doctors don’t need to have had heart disease.”

Naijuan walked to the balcony to view the scenery.

The tea party ended after a while.

Bihao was the hostess and walked to Naijuan’s side, “Today, you were the guest of honor.”

Naijuan said, “Next time, don’t give me so much attention.”

Bihao smiled, “It’s hard being a good person.”

Naijuan remained silent.

“Were any of the young men here today to your liking?”

Naijuan smiled again.

“How about my cousin Lu Bonian?”

Naijuan answered, “He’s interested in Ye Huili with the big hoop earrings.”

Bihao praised, “Such keen observation.”

Naijuan said, “Thank you for today.”

“You’re welcome. What about architect Yan Zhihe?”

“His eyes were fixed on painter Zhang Yingyi.”

“Some people were looking at you, too.”

“Really? Besides you, who else?”

“You barely spoke, your clothes are too somber, and you don’t wear jewelry. Sigh.”

Naijuan smiled, “In other words, I’m not a flower.”

“In my heart, you’re always the best.”

At this moment, Bihao’s husband, Ma Liwen, returned from playing sports. “Who, who’s the best?”

Bihao answered, “Naijuan.”

“Of course—simple, hardworking, well-cultivated. Among the frequent visitors to our home, there are two beauties: one is my cousin Ma Zhaozhi with external beauty—face and figure like a Barbie doll, the other is a good friend, Naijuan, with internal beauty—a first-class heart, nothing to criticize.”

Upon hearing this, Bihao immediately threw a sofa cushion at him, “Covered in stinking sweat, go shower quickly.”

Ma Liwen felt wronged. “What did I say wrong?”

“Naijuan, don’t mind him.”

Naijuan smiled, “I’ll take my leave now.”

Bihao walked her to the front door. “We’ll keep in touch.”

As soon as Naijuan left, Ma Liwen asked, “What did I say wrong?”

Bihao was annoyed, “Describing a woman as having ‘internal beauty’ means saying she’s ugly.”

“You’re overthinking. Naijuan has confidence. Naijuan has fair skin, bright, intelligent eyes, and her charm.”

“Why didn’t you say that just now?”

“Naijuan doesn’t care for that kind of praise.”

“Who says? She’s also human—everyone loves hearing good words. You’ve offended her; she’ll distance herself from us.”

“No, Naijuan is never petty. But you shouldn’t hold such large-scale tea parties anymore.”

Bihao said, “I’ve at least matched up eight or ten couples.”

“But Naijuan is still alone.”

Bihao was discouraged.

“By the way, did Li Zhizhong come?”

“Who?”

“Guan Linguo’s cousin. Just returned from Silicon Valley—I invited him.”

“I’ve never met this Guan fellow. You invited friends, then went off to play sports yourself.”

“Forget it.”

Meanwhile, Naijuan left the Ma residence and decided to browse a bookstore.

She said to herself: In the future, I’ll never attend tea parties arranged by Bihao again—they’re rather boring.

She browsed through various books.

In the discounted book section, she discovered a collection of Emily Dickinson’s poetry for fifty-five dollars.

Naijuan sighed—a famous female poet’s life’s work, worth only fifty-five dollars, while a lipstick easily costs over a hundred or two hundred dollars.

Naijuan also saw a Kipling book—the first British Nobel Literature Prize winner’s fairy tales reduced to forty dollars. Beautiful color illustrations, the price of a pair of stockings.

No wonder the great painter Shitao once lamented that landscapes don’t catch people’s eyes—they’d rather buy rouge to paint peonies.

She bought those two books and went home.

A long weekend, three days and nights of vacation—best to hide at home reading. Naijuan read everything, like “A Thousand Chinese Idioms in English,” which greatly benefited her, having received an English education since childhood.

She now understood how to appropriately use idioms like “catching wind and shadows,” “parting unhappily,” “barely satisfactory,” “reliving old dreams,” “completely incompatible”—one sentence worth ten in plain speech.

For single people, weekends usually pass aimlessly, but Naijuan got sufficient rest.

Returning to the office on Monday, she checked her work schedule—not particularly busy.

Chinese people always feel embarrassed about private matters, so not many seek help.

Ordinary people confide in friends, the fortunate complain to their parents, otherwise they suffer in silence or simply separate.

Naijuan worked at a government agency. Even marriage counseling was finely divided—first, the counseling director, Jiang, would meet and sort cases. Sexual problems were handled by colleagues Hong Caiben and Xie Shufen, economic issues by expert Wei Hua. Wu Naijuan only dealt with difficulties caused by personality conflicts.

Naijuan remembered Bihao whispering mysteriously to her, “When couples can’t harmonize in married life, sex is the primary key.”

Naijuan immediately shook her head.

“Then what is it?”

Naijuan answered, “Poor couples have a hundred sorrows—economics comes first, money makes things easier.”

“Really?” Bihao was doubtful.

“Bihao, besides ‘Lady Chatterley’s Lover,’ you should read other realistic works too.”

“Don’t you think Lawrence is realistic enough?”

Naijuan said, “Modern people are economically practical—sexually starved wealthy ladies can mostly find outlets.”

Bihao wanted to discuss this further, “Then—”

“Bihao, if you have doubts, I’ll introduce you to sexual problems expert Dr. Xie Shufen.”

“Bah.”

“Otherwise, go north and buy some new generation novels to appreciate—that can also quench thirst.”

At this moment, Assistant Tan Xin came in, interrupting her thoughts. “Miss Wu, today’s first couple is surnamed Zhao.”

“Thank you.”

Tan Xin had just left when someone knocked gently on the door.

Naijuan checked the time—still ten minutes before ten o’clock. They were early.

“Please come in.”

The door opened quietly, and a young woman walked softly into the office.

Naijuan greeted her, “Are you Mrs. Zhao Lin Zirou? Please sit.”

The other person’s footsteps seemed soundless as she walked to Naijuan with a lowered head and sat quietly.

“Where is Mr. Zhao? Doesn’t he have time? Joint counseling is more effective.”

The young woman was delicate and thin, with a high nose bridge and pointed chin, her face completely bloodless, her expression unbearably sad and haggard.

Naijuan was somewhat worried, “Mrs. Zhao, if you have troubles, you can tell me freely.”

She spoke, her voice weak, “We have a difficulty.”

“Please speak.”

She took a pair of small dolls from her pocket and placed them on Naijuan’s desk.

Naijuan looked closely—oh, it was a pair of clay figurines commonly called Wuxi Big Afu, only about an inch tall, but vivid and adorable.

The figurines were male and female—the male wore silk robes and a purple gold crown, clearly the pampered young master Jia Baoyu.

The female carried a flower basket and shouldered a flower hoe—Lin Daiyu burying flowers and reciting poetry.

Naijuan smiled, “These handicrafts are exquisitely made.”

The young woman said softly, “They’re gifts from my husband.”

She then took out a newspaper clipping and handed it to Naijuan.

Naijuan looked down and was stunned. This major news occurred about a month ago, very sensational, capturing the whole city’s attention.

The headline read “Two Police Officers Attacked, One Dead, One Injured.”A team of plainclothes detectives carrying out an anti-burglary operation on Tuesday encountered resistance when stopping four suspicious men. Two of them immediately reached for guns at their waists. The plainclothes detectives realized trouble and immediately returned fire. In a flash, two police officers fell—the bandits escaped without a trace…

The young woman’s voice was quite calm, “The officer who was shot in the forehead and died was my husband.”

Naijuan suddenly felt all her hair stand on end.

The young woman’s voice was barely audible: “He can’t come anymore.”

Naijuan knew the young woman was emotionally unstable from excessive grief—she needed psychiatric treatment, not marriage counseling, but Naijuan didn’t want to upset her.

Naijuan immediately made a phone call: “Dr. Sun, please come here.” Then she poured a soothing chamomile tea for her.

“You said you have a difficulty?”

“Yes, Miss Wu. I heard you’re best at careful analysis and problem-solving, so I came to find you. Miss Wu, I’ve discovered I’m pregnant. What do you think I should do?”

Naijuan was stunned, her nose gradually becoming sour, “A posthumous child?”

“Yes, already eleven weeks. I must make a decision, otherwise it’ll be too late.”

Naijuan faced her life’s most difficult problem.

“Single motherhood isn’t easy. Do you have family support?”

“I have parents and sisters.”

“Do you have work?”

“I teach at a government secondary school.”

“What about Mr. Zhao’s family?”

“I haven’t notified his parents yet, but we have good relationships.”

These were blessings within misfortune.

“My mother advises me to prioritize my future. I’m very torn, so I wanted to hear your opinion.”

Poor young widow.

“What did she say?”

“She said that with a child, life becomes very lonely, it’s hard to start a new life. Otherwise, after eight or ten years, I’ll gradually forget and perhaps have other opportunities.”

Naijuan felt heavy pressure on her shoulders.

“Miss Wu, what would you do if you were me?”

Everyone’s personality, environment, and intentions are different. I love children very much, but I also agree women should have choices.”

She said dejectedly, “No one is willing to tell me yes or no.”

At this moment, Dr. Sun pushed the door open. “Naijuan, do you urgently need me?”

Naijuan said, “This Mrs. Zhao urgently needs a doctor’s help.”

Dr. Sun immediately saw the young woman’s extremely confused emotional state and said gently, “Mrs. Zhao, let me chat with you.”

The young woman nodded.

At this moment, Naijuan said softly, “Life is precious. No one in the world is born under perfect circumstances, nor can anyone guarantee a worry-free life.”

The young woman looked up, a ray of light flashing in her eyes, “Thank you, Miss Wu.”

She left with Dr. Sun.

Assistant Tan Xin returned, “Huh, why did psychiatrist Dr. Sun come?”

The young woman forgot to take the pair of clay dolls.

Naijuan stared at the figurines for a long time, suddenly feeling heartbroken.

At this moment, someone pushed the door open while arguing loudly.

“Coming to this kind of place is completely unnecessary.”

“How would outsiders know you have no conscience?”

“Are you any better as a wife?”

“Do you believe I’ll slap you?”

Naijuan angrily raised her voice: “Silence!”

The man and woman stopped talking.

Tan Xin heard and came in, “Mr. and Mrs. Zhao, please stop the disturbance. You’re already late—sit down quickly.”

So this was the real Zhao couple?

Then who was that just now?

Naijuan immediately picked up the phone to find Dr. Sun.

“Naijuan? Mrs. Zhao just went to obstetrics for examination with a nurse’s accompaniment. She’s fine and asked me to thank you for her.”

“She left something at my place.”

“I’ll send someone to retrieve it for her later. I have her address.”

Naijuan breathed a sigh of relief.

Hanging up, she said softly, “Mr. Zhao, you can rest assured now.”

The other Mr. Zhao, sitting across from her, was baffled, “I can rest assured?”

Naijuan sighed, “You two are hopeless. Go home and divorce.”

“What? What kind of counselor is this?”

“I want to file a complaint against you!”

Strangely, these two were a handsome man and a beautiful woman—the man tall and handsome, the woman fashionable and charming, very well-matched, but at this moment they seemed like enemies.

Naijuan’s gaze was stern as she glared at them.

The two were intimidated by Naijuan’s expression and gradually quieted down.

Mr. Zhao said, “Please help us.”

“How long have you been married?”

“One year.”

So it was a paper marriage—no wonder it was so fragile.

“What’s the problem?”

The man rushed to say, “The house doesn’t feel like home. When I return from work, there’s no tea, no water—she’s a model housewife without cooking skills.”

“What? I run a fashion boutique. When did I ever say I was a cooking woman!”

“Hey, you could hire a cook for three meals.”

“She works during the day, I’m a nightclub night manager. We eat at different times—the worker only agrees to make two meals.”

“Then hire two workers.”

Mrs. Zhao said, “The house can’t accommodate so many people.”

Naijuan was helpless.

Mr. Zhao said, “For over a year, we’ve only eaten instant noodles at home, or oily and MSG-laden food outside. Whenever I think about meals, I want to cry.”

Mrs. Zhao said angrily, “You said you could cook Shanghai cuisine.”

“I’m dead tired when I get home.”

“Aren’t I the same?”

Naijuan said, “You two, time’s up. Take care, I won’t see you out.”

“Miss Wu, please give us advice.”

Naijuan asked, “Do you two still love each other?”

Mr. Zhao’s voice suddenly lowered, “The house is like a dog kennel.”

Mrs. Zhao sighed, “I’ll try to find someone to clean up.”

“You know I love cleanliness.”

“Mom said she can lend us our eldest sister.”

Naijuan said, “You—if you love each other, eat instant noodles for life.”

Mr. Zhao remained silent.

“You—if you love each other, learn to steam fish, stir-fry vegetables, and clean house.”

Mrs. Zhao also said nothing.

Naijuan said, “If you don’t love each other, go fight in the streets—don’t quarrel here. You don’t know how lucky you are. Just now, there was a young widow pregnant with a posthumous child, not knowing what to do. Sigh.”

Mr. Zhao was stunned.

Mrs. Zhao lowered her head.

Naijuan waved her hand, “Go back.”

The two left quietly.

Tan Xin said, “Huh, they came in wanting to fight desperately, left holding hands. Miss Wu, what’s your magic formula?”

“If my teacher were here, he’d say I’m too opinionated, unable to address issues without addressing people.”

Tan Xin smiled, “In marriage counseling, it’s hard not to address people. Since they’re willing to seek help, they’re still salvageable.”

Tan Xin was understanding and likable.

“I am me, people are people. Some people’s decisiveness is others’ cruelty.”

“Family matters are hard to judge. It’s just about giving them analysis, suggestions, making them think carefully about which path to take.”

Naijuan asked Tan Xin, “Has anyone been your guiding light?”

“My mother and I are close.”

“Tan Xin, you’re so fortunate.”

“What about you, Miss Wu?”

“My teacher, famous psychologist Professor Chen Weiyu, has been very good to me.”

At this moment, Tan Xin said, “Miss Wu, Teacher Hu from Zhonghua Girls’ School is looking for you.”

Teacher Hu was a cheerful young woman.

She came in and shook hands vigorously with Naijuan.

“Miss Wu, I’d like to invite you to speak at our school about marriage.”

Naijuan was surprised, “What?”

“I’m the Social Studies director at Zhonghua Girls’ School. The seventeen and eighteen-year-old girls excel in Chinese, English, math, physics, and chemistry, but know nothing about male-female relationships. They have academic knowledge but no practical experience. Besides inviting experts to explain office politics, dating and sexual relationships, investment and savings, we also want you to talk about marriage.”

Naijuan found the idea fresh and beneficial, and couldn’t help smiling.

“Teacher Hu, are you married?”

“It’s because I got married last year that I feel the need to educate young women.”

“Young women have excessive fantasies about marriage. Providing them with practical knowledge is good.”

Teacher Hu said, “Thank you, Miss Wu. I hope the Form 5 and 6 girls can survive in the real world.”

They arranged a time.

Tan Xin sighed, “Finally, a teacher realizes that just memorizing Greek mythology and English literature isn’t enough for girls to establish themselves in the real world.”

“No one has ever explained to young women how to use money or choose marriage partners. Aren’t these more important than ‘how tornadoes form’?”

Lunchtime arrived.

Naijuan never made appointments with people.

From morning to night, she met various types of resentful couples. During her private lunchtime, she was happy to have peace.

She ate an apple and walked to the nearby community center.

Naijuan put on a baseball cap and sat in a corner of the stands, watching him teach.

He wore a white cotton shirt and white shorts, already soaked with sweat. The shirt clung to his body, his whole being transformed into pure energy, agile as a swimming dragon, running across the field teaching students offense and defense.

Athletes have an intimidating charisma when displaying their strength. Naijuan quietly appreciated this from her corner.

She had seen him by chance.

A couple came seeking counseling: the husband was injured at work and needed a wheelchair, and the wife was emotionally depressed. Naijuan referred them to the center for relaxation activities.

Also, during lunchtime, Naijuan came to check their progress.

She saw them learning water polo in the warm pool, in good spirits, and felt relieved.

Then he came out, instructing that gentleman in using arm strength.

Naijuan stared at him blankly.

She had never seen such a handsome man.

He was perfectly fit, his back forming a V-shape, with thick eyebrows, large eyes, a high nose, and an amiable smile. He was popular, constantly surrounded by people talking to him.

Naijuan immediately felt she was behaving improperly, quickly lowered her head to look elsewhere, then hurried away from the community center.

But all day, she couldn’t forget that light brown, water-droplet-covered robust physique.

A lock of hair fell across his forehead, black tinged with deep blue…

Naijuan found it amusing—she didn’t know his name, identity, or age, yet was attracted to him like a little girl.

Her loneliness was imaginable.

But in the following months, she came to the community center again and again, just to catch a glimpse of him.

Like a little fan waiting for her beloved star—seeing him was enough, whether she got an autograph or photo didn’t matter.

Naijuan specialized in solving others’ problems, but this time her psychology might need counseling.

Because people called him “Teacher Li, over here” or “Li Jialiang, see you tomorrow,” she learned his name.

Like now, a child fell and scraped his knee, crying, “Teacher Li, help me!” He rushed over and crouched down to examine.

Every gesture was so beautiful. Under the sunlight he seemed to glow all over, handsome as a sculpture, but such beautiful physique couldn’t last—in ten or twenty years, everyone’s flesh would decline and age. Therefore it was even more important to appreciate it now.

Naijuan’s eyes were normally bright, but now focused in observation, like a child looking at beloved toys and candy, with joy tinged by greed, anxious about gain and loss, her expression unsettled, shy yet charming.

She was watching someone, and someone was watching her.

That person was also transfixed by her radiance.

A whistle sounded—time was up. Naijuan had to return to the office.

Returning from sunshine to air conditioning, she sneezed several times.

In childhood, her grandmother told her, “Someone’s talking about you behind your back—that’s why you sneeze.”

Who was talking about her?

Bihao’s phone call came.

“Naijuan, come for dinner after work.”

“No, I have other things.”

“I bet at most you’re doing volunteer work.”

“You guessed right—I want to visit a young widow.”

“Eight-to-six work hours are enough.”

“Bihao, tomorrow—I’ll come to your place tomorrow.”

She left half an hour early, following the address Dr. Sun gave her, carrying a fruit basket, to find Mrs. Zhao’s home.

The building was in a remote location, but the environment was quieter.

She pressed the doorbell.

The young woman opened the door, “Miss Wu, please come in.”

The small apartment still maintained its old state, decorated cheerfully. The sofa had silk cushions embroidered with traditional “flowers and full moon” patterns.

Ah, flowers and a full moon—a newlywed couple, one no longer here.

The bedroom still had a “hundred sons” celebratory canopy, with chubby babies with topknot hairstyles engaged in various activities, vivid and lifelike.

“I came to return this pair of figurines to you.”

Mrs. Zhao smiled, “Thank you.”

“Did Dr. Sun recommend psychological counseling for you?”

She nodded.

“Please consider carefully.”

“I will overcome difficulties, hoping to receive patience, love, strength, and power from God.”

Religious faith was best.

Later, Mrs. Zhao’s mother and sister arrived, constantly complaining about the heat.

“This apartment faces west, gets the most sun in the afternoon. Better move back home first.”

Naijuan stood up to leave.

Mrs. Zhao’s mother asked, “Is that your colleague?”

“That’s Miss Wu from the counseling office.”

“She’s the one who advised you to have the child?”

“She didn’t say that.”

“We’ll discuss this at home.”

Like a whirlwind, she helped her daughter pack.

Naijuan had no maternal home—though lonely, it had advantages. No one chattered and gave random advice. When facing problems, she could think quietly.

She sighed and drove her small car home.

At her building entrance, someone greeted her.

This was a high-level civil servants’ residence. Every neighbor was actually a colleague, but Naijuan wasn’t good at socializing and couldn’t remember who this was.

The plain-looking young man reminded her, “We met at Bihao’s house over the weekend.”

“Oh yes, how are you?” Naijuan was still vague.

The young man didn’t take offense, “I’m Li Zhizhong.”

Naijuan asked, “Visiting friends?”

The elevator door opened. Naijuan felt relieved. “Goodbye.”

She didn’t remember him.

He had introduced himself to her twice, but she still didn’t remember him.

Li Zhizhong stared at the closed elevator door in a daze.

Yes, his appearance was ordinary, unremarkable, his clothes plain, but he was her neighbor—his parents also lived in the same building, just the difference between third and seventh floors.

This serene woman was a bit self-admiring, with a unique temperament.

Recently someone had told him, “You just returned from Silicon Valley and don’t know local trends have changed. Everyone worships Eastern and Western styles, but they only learn superficially—dyed yellow hair, exaggerated clothing, yet lacking self-content, very awkward.

Didn’t expect there were still women as graceful as Wu Naijuan.”

Someone patted his shoulder, “Zhizhong, why are you standing here in a daze? How about playing tennis together?”

Looking up, it was neighbor Qian Yongde. He smiled, “Another time.”

The elevator came down again.

Old Qian continued chattering, “This year’s computer science graduates are miserable—seven or eight out of ten can’t find jobs. Internet companies are ruthlessly laying off thousands, calling it ‘business restructuring.'”

Li Zhizhong nodded along.

“Hey, Zhizhong, you returned from Silicon Valley—what’s your view?”

Zhizhong said, “I’m here, goodbye.”

He walked out of the elevator as if relieved.

This was probably why he liked Wu Naijuan—like him, she avoided enthusiastic friends and disliked idle chatter.

At this moment, he thought of a solution.

Meanwhile, Naijuan was approaching her door when she heard the telephone ringing.

She still unhurriedly took out her keys, completely unaffected.

Naijuan firmly believed that people who truly wanted to find you would eventually reach you.

It was Bihao. “You’re back?”

“Mm, the situation has changed somewhat. It looks like the widow’s family will persuade her to abandon the past and start anew.”

“Naijuan, what about yourself?”

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Marriage expert without marriage—flower-selling girl wearing bamboo leaves.”

“I’m a counselor, not the expert you mentioned.”

“Then counsel yourself.”

“Why are you so worried? Bihao, you’re broad-minded, so your marriage is happy, and you encourage friends to marry too.”

Bihao had a rich dowry, a generous personality, was responsible for major household expenses without complaint, and even sent her husband’s children from a previous marriage to British boarding schools luxuriously. Being so open-minded, naturally, she had a good marriage. She continued, “When old, keeping cats, holding green-eyed beasts in your arms, feeling they’re more affectionate than humans…”

Naijuan was annoyed. “Do you have something to say?”

“Yes, Ma Liwen says he has a friend named Li Zhizhong—”

“No thanks, I don’t want to dine with guests.”

Bihao fell silent.

Naijuan hung up.

If they hadn’t known each other since childhood, Bihao would have given up on her long ago.

Naijuan had once saved Bihao when she was twelve.

That day, Bihao wore an electric purple swimsuit—the color was so striking that Naijuan saw her sinking at the bottom of the pool, face down, like a discarded doll.

She was the one who pulled Bihao from the pool bottom, shouted, alerted the lifeguard, immediately gave her classmate artificial respiration, and accompanied her to the hospital emergency room.

So Bihao had always been grateful to her.

Ten years later, when Bihao decided to marry Ma Liwen, who had divorced twice and had a son and daughter, Naijuan shook her head, “Saved too late—brain oxygen deprivation, problems.”

Bihao hadn’t made the correct choice, but her attitude toward choice was correct. She contributed money and effort, sharing glory with Ma Liwen and his children, working hard to maintain the marriage.

Naijuan greatly admired her.

But she had no intention of learning from her.

Naijuan read for a while, then fell asleep when her eyes grew tired.

At first, it was pitch-black sleep, then she had a beautiful dream.

A pair of strong arms embraced her from behind.

She turned around to look at him. He smiled at her, light brown skin contrasting with snow-white teeth. She couldn’t help reaching out, gently tracing his lips with her finger.

At this moment, Naijuan woke up.

The alarm clock was ringing loudly—she had to get up and wash.

Naijuan, who studied psychology, naturally understood the relationship between dreams and reality.

In the morning, she attended a dull, lengthy administrative meeting. In the afternoon, she went to Zhonghua Girls’ School as promised.

Teacher Hu immediately came out to greet her.

“Miss Wu, the students are ready.”

Entering the classroom, she saw a sea of heads and bright eyes all around, silent as birds.

Naijuan briefly introduced herself. Time was precious—she immediately got to the point.

She said gently, “Why do you want to marry? Marriage is two complete people becoming partners, not two people trying to fill each other’s deficiencies.

“In any marriage, neither party can overspend emotionally—you must act within your means.

“Also, too many people focus on the wedding itself. No—you should plan the marriage itself, not how many people to invite for the ceremony and dinner, which dress to order, how much betrothal money to receive.”

Naijuan’s voice was gentle but certain. Her smooth narration captivated the entire audience.

She shared several examples and asked the young students for their opinions, receiving enthusiastic responses.

An hour passed, but the students showed no intention of leaving. The classroom corridor was packed with people—even other teachers came to participate in the discussion, eager to hear more.

The symposium finally ended. Teacher Hu was extremely excited, “We must hold such beneficial lectures regularly.”

Naijuan was somewhat tired.

“I must agree with the part about marriage being more important than the wedding.”

“Young women generally think marriage equals wedding—only caring about a successful wedding ceremony, no time to consider anything else.”

“Marrying at twenty-something is too early—mental maturity hasn’t developed, how can they handle diand fficult changes?”

“Late marriage is good.”

“But what about fertility issues?”

“That’s why there are more and more older mothers.”

“This is unfair again—a forty-year-old mother is mocked as ‘old clam producing pearls,’ but what about a forty-year-old father?”

“Strong and vigorous in old age.”

Everyone laughed heartily.

Naijuan took her leave amid the laughter.

Walking toward the school parking lot, she noticed someone behind her.

She turned around alertly and saw a man in a white shirt, khaki pants, and a crew cut.

Somewhat familiar—who was it?

The other person praised, “Excellently spoken.”

Naijuan modestly replied, “Just concentrating on several experts’ opinions—they’ve already written books and established theories. But every situation is different. Trusting books completely is worse than having no books—it still depends on the parties’ wisdom.”

“The secret is patience, isn’t it?”

“I think so. A wife once said You must endure again when you can’t endure anymore.”

Who was this person? Must be a teacher at the girls’ school.

That person saw her slight hesitation, knowing she still couldn’t remember who he was. Feeling somewhat melancholy, he said, “I’m Li Zhizhong.”

She nodded at him and got in her car.

Li Zhizhong asked her, “Do you have time for a cup of coffee together?”

Naijuan found him presumptuous.

“Oh,” she said, “I still have some things to do.”

She quickly drove away.

Seemed like she’d seen this Li fellow in several different places—what a coincidence.

Naijuan indeed had something to do.

She had arranged to meet her teacher to discuss her troubles.

Professor Chen had already retired and was very happy to see her outstanding student visit.

Naijuan entered carrying a large fruit basket.

The professor poured fragrant tea.

“This tea contains passion fruit—the aroma is indescribable.”

Naijuan held the cup and inhaled deeply.

In the spacious study with only two sofas and one large desk, three shadows swayed by the long window, wisteria flowers hung more than a foot long, unknown insects chirped, making the study the perfect place for heart-to-heart talks.

The professor wore a blue cloth gown with hair in a bun, very well-maintained, but made no attempt to appear younger than her actual age, giving her extra dignity and wisdom.

She gently asked Naijuan, “Still don’t dare to walk up to him and introduce yourself?”

One of Naijuan’s ears itched.

After a long pause, she said, “Being able to see him is already very good.”

The professor smiled.

Naijuan explained, “In front of such a handsome, amiable, almost perfect him, I inevitably feel inferior.”

“How do you know his character is perfect? What you see is only the surface.”

“I’ve never seen him show the slightest impatience with old people or children.”

“That’s his job—some people show their true colors once they’re off work.”

“I don’t think he’s that kind of person.”

“You think too highly of him.”

“Perhaps.”

“Try going over to talk to him tomorrow.”

Naijuan covered her face with her hands, “No, no.”

“Why?”

“I’m plain-looking—why seek humiliation?”

The professor smiled, “I wish everyone viewed themselves with such humility.”

“Not knowing him is better. Sitting in the crowd, he doesn’t know someone like me exists. I have no burden, can go watch him anytime, and can freely disappear without anyone feeling awkward.”

The professor said gently, “You, who are usually so spirited, also have shy moments.”

“Professor, this is what ordinary people call unrequited love, isn’t it?”

“Naijuan, your situation is different. Let me analyze for you: because you encounter too many resentful couples at work, you’ve become disappointed in relationships and don’t want to develop further.”

“There are no perfect marriages in the world—it only depends on how much the parties can tolerate.”

“Shh, never say this outside.”

Professor Chen was also single—naturally, she was someone who understood.

Naijuan said softly, “My work has no breakthrough. If I could follow these problem couples home and investigate the real causes of their conflicts, that would be true counseling.”

“Even honest officials can’t judge family matters. Come, I made afternoon tea.”

Naijuan’s appetite had always been poor—she usually ate very little and didn’t care about taste.

She said to the professor, “A couple was complaining about each other not cooking meals. I also hope my male companion knows how to cook and contribute three dishes and a soup.”

Professor Chen said, “I’m very grateful to have an old cook.”

Naijuan originally had much to say, but after eating the snacks and filling her stomach, her sighs and complaints suddenly seemed more distant, and her grievances diminished.

She took her leave and drove home.

Halfway there, a thunderstorm began. Naijuan hurried home to close windows—one corner of the living room was already splashed wet. The subtropical rain fell like thick noodles, white and torrential. Many families’ clothes hanging outside balconies couldn’t be retrieved in time, struggling and swaying in the wind and rain like a group of mischievous street children.

Someone’s radio was playing—faint, melancholy singing drifted over: Why don’t you come to my door again? I hope you’ll tell me about my first love…

Naijuan listened to the rain on the balcony, curled up on the sofa, and quietly fell asleep.

She hoped for a pair of gentle arms to softly cover her with a blanket.

Naijuan felt that a small part of her soul had not yet evolved—she was an old-fashioned woman, in deep courtyards, alone in her chamber, with infinite longing for the opposite sex.