The term “Changying” comes from the “Book of Han: Biography of Zhong Jun” from the Eastern Han Dynasty, representing “the power to defeat enemies and achieve victory.” The Song Dynasty writer Lu You also wrote in his poem “Reading Military Books at Night”: “If one can request a long tether, one mounts a horse without hesitation.”
If one can request a long tether, one mounts a horse without hesitation—Jiang Yubai liked this line very much.
He and Lin Zhixia had known each other for more than a decade, being each other’s closest friend, companion, and lover. By naming his daughter “Changying,” he subtly expressed his desire to advance hand-in-hand with her. Although he didn’t have a daughter yet, he could imagine it. He held Lin Zhixia’s hand firmly, as if feeling her pulse beating.
She remained silent, leaning her head on his shoulder.
Outside the car window, night flowed by. The pedestrians on both sides of the broad streets bustled about, skyscrapers stood in rows, and countless lights shone brilliantly together. Lin Zhixia felt comfortable and peaceful inside. She gently touched the back of Jiang Yubai’s hand, eventually intertwining their fingers. Even without verbal communication, their tender affection was conveyed without words.
*
Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia returned to the Jiang family estate, making a special visit to see his cousin’s daughter, who would soon be one month old.
The cousin’s daughter, just a month old, was still a tiny infant, just a small bundle. She lay on a bed surrounded by guardrails, sleeping peacefully. Lin Zhixia stood at a distance, watching her, not daring to step forward, afraid of disturbing her beautiful dreams.
“She’s so adorable,” Lin Zhixia commented sincerely.
Jiang Yubai hooked her finger. The room was dimly lit and silent. She turned to look at him, her eyes clear and bright. In an extremely soft voice, she said, “In a few years, let’s have one too.”
“As cute as you,” Jiang Yubai predicted.
He led Lin Zhixia out of the room, where his uncle and aunt were chatting outside the door.
His uncle’s face was full of the joy of new fatherhood. He placed his hand on Jiang Yubai’s shoulder, selflessly imparting to his nephew the secrets of “how to be a good father.” He also instructed, “Set the date soon. Your aunt and I are looking forward to attending your wedding banquet.”
Jiang Yubai seized the opportunity and that evening discussed wedding arrangements in detail with Lin Zhixia. Lin Zhixia and her family all liked islands, so Jiang Yubai decided to hold the wedding in Hainan. He opened a perpetual calendar and turned to the page for August 2018. Lin Zhixia immediately leaned over.
The glow of the desk lamp spread out as her thick eyelashes blinked twice, like the wings of a black butterfly. She propped her chin with her left hand and pointed at the perpetual calendar with her right: “August 24th is auspicious for travel and marriage. Let’s go with this day. After the wedding, I can celebrate your birthday a few days later.”
Jiang Yubai circled “August 24th” with a red pen and wrote beside it: “Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia’s wedding.”
Lin Zhixia was suddenly inspired to coquettishly call him: “Husband.”
Jiang Yubai had never heard her use such a tone. He was momentarily distracted, his pen stroke extending, though his expression remained calm: “Which relatives and friends do you want to invite? Make a list, and I’ll send the invitations.”
Lin Zhixia just smiled and said, “Husband, look at me.”
Jiang Yubai remained unmoved: “Let’s finish the important matters first.”
Jiang Yubai knew clearly that for Lin Zhixia, the greater reaction the word “husband” evoked from him, the more interesting she found it—she had been like this since childhood, full of curiosity and a strong desire to explore. When she was young, she would constantly call “Little Boss Jiang, Little Boss Jiang,” and now she called out again: “Husband?”
Jiang Yubai closed the perpetual calendar, opened a work notebook, browsed through next year’s project plans, and said: “Late August, we’ll take a half-month vacation.”
Jiang Yubai patiently waited for Lin Zhixia to coax him.
Sure enough, Lin Zhixia pushed away his notebook, moved her chair closer to him.
Before she could say a word, he gathered her wrists, bent down slightly, and smoothly kissed her lips, drawing her honeyed lips to quench his thirst. He also repeatedly called her a pet name in an extremely gentle voice. Lin Zhixia’s heart suddenly boiled, waves tumbling, the burning heat melting her ears.
*
Jiang Yubai and Lin Zhixia set their wedding date and notified both families.
Lin Zhixia’s parents were both happy for their daughter and somewhat concerned and reluctant to let her go. Because of this, the Lin family specially convened a family meeting to discuss the wedding details.
Mother sat on the living room sofa, holding Lin Zhixia’s hand, saying: “Xiaxia will only be twenty-four next year, and she’s getting married…”
Lin Zeqiu interrupted: “That kid Jiang Yubai is eager to take a wife.”
Father seemed to have already changed sides: “Qiuqiu, your sister and brother-in-law have a good relationship. Don’t always pick on your brother-in-law. He’s not had it easy either; he’s a very sensible child.”
Lin Zeqiu silently stared at his father, who continued to ramble on: “After Xiaxia and Little Jiang get married, they’ll live in the complex across the street, not far from us. Xiaxia will still come home every week to stay. Your mother and I are satisfied with that.”
Mother suddenly interjected: “Qiuqiu, you’re several years older than your sister. Your sister is about to get married; aren’t you going to find a girlfriend? Are there any suitable girls at your company? If not, should Mom introduce some girls to you?”
Lin Zeqiu was eating an apple. He almost choked on the fruit. He quickly looked at Lin Zhixia, indicating that his sister should say something to help him out, with his sister’s language ability, placating their parents was an extremely simple matter.
However, Lin Zhixia took a sip of strawberry yogurt and quietly met Lin Zeqiu’s gaze. Lin Zeqiu knew then that his sister couldn’t be relied upon. He could only bring up the company’s strict rules: “Our company doesn’t allow office romances. If you don’t believe me, ask Lin Zhixia.”
Lin Zhixia nodded: “My brother is right.”
“What about your classmates?” Mother asked, “Don’t your friends or your sister know any single girls? You need to speak up, Qiuqiu, let people introduce you to someone.”
Lin Zeqiu ran a hand through his hair. He had short black hair, the strands black and abundant. He was handsome, 1.87 meters tall, with a good job and education, honest and upright, and had an extremely outstanding sister. With such conditions for selecting a spouse, he should be doing fine, so why couldn’t he find a girlfriend? Mother sighed deeply: “I’m not rushing you, and your father and I aren’t in a hurry to hold a grandchild. Your sister is starting her family, and Mom is worried you’ll be lonely in the future.”
“Being married doesn’t necessarily mean you won’t be lonely,” Lin Zeqiu retorted. “I have no problems going out for drinks with friends, playing sports, watching games—it’s great. Once a person gets married, they become constrained, and it’s troublesome.”
Lin Zeqiu leaned back against the sofa, stretched out his legs, and rested his arms behind his head. His lazy and carefree demeanor, his completely uninterested attitude toward marriage, and his resigned attitude of “if it’s already broken, let it be broken completely,” all made his father very worried.
Father asked him, “Qiu, you’re in your twenties now, and you still only hang out with men?”
Lin Zhixia gave Lin Zeqiu a look, but Lin Zeqiu’s reaction wasn’t as quick as Lin Zhixia’s. He didn’t immediately understand his father’s implication and answered truthfully: “Yes, what about it?”
Father put down his teacup: “When your father was your age, Xiaxia was already old enough to run errands.”
Lin Zhixia pointed out a mistake: “I never ran errands.”
Father was stunned for a moment, then Lin Zhixia spoke up for her brother: “Lin Zeqiu is an adult. Let him choose what kind of life he wants to live. No matter what, I stand with my brother.”
Lin Zeqiu extended a hand, palm up, and Lin Zhixia high-fived him—the brother and sister were incredibly in sync.
Their parents stopped pressuring Lin Zeqiu to find a girlfriend. As parents, they neither wanted to irritate their son nor argue with their daughter. Furthermore, both their son and daughter were very busy with work, and it was rare for the family to have time to gather and chat. Relationship issues could only be temporarily set aside.
Father took the initiative to ask about Lin Zhixia’s situation at school. He had heard that Lin Zhixia was the deputy leader of the four-university joint research group, with particularly heavy research tasks, and had her own funded projects, wondering if she could manage it all.
“I can handle it,” Lin Zhixia described to her parents. “I work in the laboratory, and before I know it, a whole morning has passed. After lunch, I continue working in the afternoon. Day after day, time passes very quickly. Because I’m doing what I love, I don’t feel tired.”
Mother peeled an orange, ate a segment herself to confirm it was sweet, then handed it to Lin Zhixia: “Xiaxia, listen to your mother. Take it easy at school, don’t get too tired. Your health is most important; your father and mother are concerned about you.”
“Mmm,” Lin Zhixia said vaguely as she ate the orange, “I know.”
The orange had a rich taste, sweet with a hint of freshness—this was the taste of home.
*
Since the establishment of the “Four-University Joint Research Group,” Lin Zhixia’s research progress has accelerated considerably. Her colleagues were all national elites, and the students under these elites each had their strengths. After a brief period of adjustment, everyone’s collaboration became increasingly smooth.
Lin Zhixia and Tan Qianche were both core members of the research group. Their two research teams attracted much attention, with invisible competitive pressure falling on the students of both groups. Although Lin Zhixia remained gentle with her students, Tan Qianche emphasized “graduate student goals and planning” every week and created a “weekly self-evaluation form” for the students.
Tan Qianche repeatedly reminded Lin Zhixia of her Indian senior from Cambridge—based on Lin Zhixia’s personal experience, the Indian senior’s strict teaching model could also successfully motivate some students. She had no right to interfere with Tan Qianche’s teaching methods, and Tan Qianche often held group meetings with her.
Currently, the focus of their Four-University Joint Research Group is developing quantum chips—an extremely challenging and complex problem. Lin Zhixia’s approach was quite bold. She completely overturned the previous operational model of quantum bits, proposing a novel reform method. About half of her colleagues disagreed with her, while Tan Qianche and Gu Likai were quite supportive.
To quickly develop a prototype chip, Tan Qianche subdivided the tasks, assigned them to his students, and continued to push them.
During the final week before the winter break, Tan Qianche spoke at the joint group meeting: “There are some things your Professor Lin won’t say, so I’ll say them for her. Your Professor Lin’s quantum technology company has created a new graph theory, integrating classical computers with quantum algorithms, greatly improving the security of network information transmission. The government, enterprises, and she all have collaborations. However, this doesn’t mean that a true quantum computer has emerged…”
He looked at Xu Lingbo, as if speaking specifically to him: “Quantum computers have three core requirements: algorithms, coding, and chips. The chip is the most critical, currently under development. If you go home for the winter break this year, you’ll miss the opportunity to participate.”
In the spacious conference room, the atmosphere was unusually tense, but Tan Qianche smiled: “Let me give you an example. A goes home, B doesn’t. A relaxes and plays at home, while B learns new knowledge and attends academic conferences. When the month-long winter break ends, how big is the gap between A and B?”
The room was silent.
Tan Qianche continued: “This year, none of you should go home. Stay in the lab and work.”
He stood at the end of the long table, hands on the table, and asked: “Who agrees, who disagrees?”
Xu Lingbo whispered, “Professor Tan exploiting students is inhuman.”
However, Tan Qianche’s next sentence was: “1,000 yuan labor fee for each person, I’ll pay for it.”
Tan Qianche was a professor whom the school was focusing on cultivating. He had numerous projects and considerable income. As early as the end of last year, he had replaced his car with a Mercedes-Benz sedan, wore a Lange watch, and had quite the successful businessman’s style.
Fang Yiwen, however, dared to publicly undermine him. She raised her hand and said, “Professor, your assumption is incorrect.”
Tan Qianche questioned her: “Where is it wrong?”
Fang Yiwen stood up to explain: “If A, who goes home to play, is Professor Lin Zhixia, and B, who stays in the lab, is classmate Xu Lingbo, after one winter break, A would still be far superior to B, don’t you think?”
Far from being angry, Tan Qianche laughed even more heartily: “This fully demonstrates that you can’t go home for the winter break; you need to catch up to Professor Lin’s level. Professor Lin completed her undergraduate degree in three years and never went home during those three years of winter and summer breaks. Learn from her.”
“Wait,” Lin Zhixia interrupted him, “students, you are all adults and can choose freely. Staying on campus is completely voluntary. Professor Tan is giving each of you 1,000 yuan in labor fees, and I’ll add another 1,000 yuan. Any student who wants to go home for the Spring Festival is completely welcome to do so. Don’t feel any psychological pressure. Just send me an email tonight stating whether you’ll stay on campus or not.”
The Spring Festival is an annual traditional holiday.
In Lin Zhixia’s imagination, the perfect Spring Festival was a round table with a yin-yang hot pot. The table would be filled with rolls of beef and lamb, fish balls and shrimp dumplings, scallops and crab sticks, mushrooms and green vegetables. Steam would rise and disperse everywhere, with her father, mother, brother, and Jiang Yubai sitting around the table. The family would eat together in a lively atmosphere, with the Spring Festival Gala playing on television and colorful fireworks blooming in the night sky.
Lin Zhixia put herself in others’ shoes, believing her students would also go home.
However, that evening, the emails Lin Zhixia received showed that of the twenty-four people in Lin Zhixia and Tan Qianche’s two groups, including Xu Lingbo, not a single person was going home for the festival. They all chose to stay on campus and continue their experiments. Also, because each of them received 2,000 yuan in labor fees, Lin Zhixia and Tan Qianche were both highly praised on the school forum, acclaimed as “conscientious, generous advisors,” which surprised Lin Zhixia somewhat.
She repeatedly confirmed the willingness of her group’s students, and they were all very determined, as if deeply influenced by Tan Qianche’s words.
After contemplating for half a day and inquiring about the students’ plans for New Year’s Eve, Lin Zhixia ordered a reunion dinner at the school’s luxury cafeteria, paying nearly two thousand yuan. She sent the dinner menu to the research group’s WeChat group, and the students erupted in cheers, as if already celebrating the Spring Festival.
A few minutes later, Xu Lingbo privately messaged her: “Wishing Professor an early happy Spring Festival!”
Lin Zhixia instantly replied: “Happy Festival to you too! Keep up the good work!”
Xu Lingbo was frantically writing his paper.
From October of last year until now, he has experienced the most laborious period of his life. Every day upon opening his eyes, his mind was consumed with papers and experimental methods, thinking about them while showering, eating, and at all times. He finally understood the deeper meaning of the research topic Lin Zhixia had given him a year ago, which papers could be interconnected, and which viewpoints could be further improved. While he marveled at finally having real achievements, he also secretly resented himself for not realizing sooner, squandering many opportunities, and suffering much humiliation.
He posted on his Moments: “I’ve wasted 25 years of my life.”
He forgot to hide this from Lin Zhixia.
Lin Zhixia became the first person to respond. She said: “You haven’t wasted anything. Everything you’ve experienced has shaped who you are today…”
Xu Lingbo’s eyes filled with tears, only to see Lin Zhixia’s next words: “Finish writing the paper and send it to me soon.”
Xu Lingbo wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes and quickly added Lin Zhixia to the “Don’t let them see my Moments” list.