Chapter 117

It is the height of July, summer break.

When Xie Tingyu woke up in the hospital, the exams at school had already finished one after another. Because of the car accident, he had missed all of them.

Ye Qingshui’s summer vacation had already begun, but he still had to rush back to school to take make-up exams.

Aside from furniture, the new house didn’t have any daily necessities. Thus, the task of moving fell onto Ye Qingshui’s shoulders.

Over the years, Xie Tingyu had accumulated a great deal of miscellaneous items. Moreover, he was a sentimental person; a single room couldn’t hold all of his belongings. Mother Ye found a freight cart and made several trips.

In the sweltering heat of summer, Ye Qingshui was busy working inside and outside the house. She wore a dark blue checkered dress, her hair tied in two braids with silk ribbons, looking very elegant and serene.

Finally, Ye Qingshui brought out all of his items. Many of his books were precious reference materials, so she was exceptionally careful when packing them.

While searching for a box to store the books, she found a dusty wooden chest in a corner. When she opened it, she suddenly froze.

The chest was very old; the paint on the edges was worn away. Ye Qingshui remembered it—Xie Tingyu had used a chest of this color when they were in the countryside.

Her gaze lingered on the chest. She stared blankly at the contents inside for a long time.

She reached out and picked up a pale yellow grass grasshopper. This woven grasshopper was years old; its antennae had been dried and eroded by time, and one was broken.

Its worn body showed signs of having been carefully repaired with paste. This little toy she had casually woven back then had somehow been preserved for three or four years.

She had made it once when she caught Xie Tingyu feeling sad, just to coax him.

Three years had passed, and it was no longer as golden and shiny as it once was. The grass used to weave it had become extremely brittle.

Ye Qingshui picked up another stack of items. These were yellowed exam papers with her immature handwriting on them, accompanied by comments he had carefully noted on the side.

“June 10, 1976: Great progress but still needs hard work. She seems a bit defiant.”

“July 26, 1976: Injured, cannot lift a pen. Shui-ya is taking care of me.”

“Oct 6, 1976: Physics is very good, but Chinese literature is still weak.”

…

“Winter Solstice, 1977: Finished reciting a piece of classical prose. She promised to come home with me to spend the New Year.”

“Autumn, 1977: Watching the stars with her at the threshing floor. I am determined to give her and the children a beam of light.”

Ye Qingshui read through the thick stack of exam papers and drafts from beginning to end, flipping page by page. It was as if she could see the young man who wrote these words through them—sometimes frowning, sometimes curling his lips into a smile.

She organized them page by page, smoothing out the curled corners.

Suddenly, she realized: Could this be… the chest he never allowed her to touch?

In the spring of ’77, he had finally relented and given her the chest, but when she opened it, it was full of books. She never expected it to contain these “useless” things.

Recalling her past life, Ye Qingshui was filled with emotion.

In her previous life, she had always been resentful, feeling sad and hurt over his strictness and reprimands back then.

It turned out this was the “secret” Xie Tingyu had always kept.

Everything inside was hers.

She took a quick glance: he had collected her hair strand by strand and braided them into tiny braids; he kept her old hair ties; he had turned a leaf she had once casually blown into a bookmark; even the clothes she had made by hand but ultimately gave to Zhou Dongmei—he couldn’t bear to throw them away, keeping them washed and clean in the chest.

She still remembered how she looked the first time she wore them. Touching the cotton fabric, a nostalgic smile flashed in her eyes.

Ye Qingshui picked up a watercolor portrait from the chest, her dark eyes flashing with seriousness.

In the portrait, she wore a pristine white shirt and a black pleated skirt, looking very much like a student. At that time, she had just received a reward stipend from the county and was smiling happily.

On the back of the portrait, a sentence was written: “Painted in Autumn, 1976. Made her angry, I regret it deeply. Made a one-year promise with her.”

Ye Qingshui remembered that time she had spoken a few words to Qian Xiangdong at the black market. He had kissed her out of jealousy, and she had been angry for several days, refusing to give him a pleasant look.

As she scrutinized these trinkets, her eyes narrowed slightly and her heart grew peaceful.

The summer heat outside and the noisy cicadas on the branches could not disturb her; she was immersed in her memories.

Flashes of her past with Xie Tingyu appeared before her eyes like a movie: their first meeting, the friction of living together, giving birth to two young sons, the hardship of waiting for him to wake up, and now, the promise to spend the rest of their lives together.

And many things from her previous life: him saying goodbye at the village entrance in the spring to go north, a back view that became an eternal parting.

He liked her and silently collected everything related to her, yet he was too shy to confess his love.

He clearly disliked loquat trees, yet after his death, he was willing to plant one for her.

He hid his death from her for a lifetime and took his silent feelings with him to the grave.

Touching these small objects, Ye Qingshui felt a rush of emotions clogging her chest, and her eyes began to sting.

She never knew that in those years gone by, he had loved her so much—far more than she had imagined.

At the bottom of the chest, tucked inside a book, was a piece of yellowed paper. it was a prose poem torn from a page; the thin paper was aged. A poem was clearly printed on it.

“Sister, You Are Water—

You are the water in the clear stream.

Flowing all day without sorrow,

Laughing always with sincerity,

Naturally leading me to forget the way home.”

The young Xie Tingyu, after a day’s work, would lie lazily on the bed and ask her to read it to him over and over again.

Back then, the other half of the poem had been torn off by him. Looking at the missing page in her hand now, her face burned.

Xie Tingyu successfully completed his make-up exams; for him, exams weren’t a difficult matter.

When he returned home, he saw his wife’s eyes were red, like a rabbit’s.

She rushed over and threw herself into his arms. Caught off guard, Xie Tingyu almost stumbled back two steps.

He happily embraced her, feeling a surge of deep affection. He was just about to unbutton his shirt to start his “tax collection” plan (intimacy).

Unexpectedly, she shook her head, indicating it was time to sleep. Xie Tingyu had no choice but to hold her, simply chatting under the cool quilt.

Lying on her side, her eyes shining in the light, she opened her mouth:

“Sister, you are water—you are the water in the lotus pond.”

The moment she recited the first line, Xie Tingyu understood that she had seen those things while organizing the old items.

Even with skin as thick as his had become, he couldn’t help but fall silent.

“Those… things, it would be a pity to throw them away,” he explained after a long silence.

Ye Qingshui hugged his waist and sniffled hard, accusing him: “But… those were clearly my things. When I accidentally touched it back then, you were so mean.”

Xie Tingyu had no choice but to wipe her tears, saying seriously: “I’m sorry.”

“I was very shy back then. From now on, I’ll let you see everything of mine, okay?”

Ye Qingshui rubbed her face against his clothes, making him laugh out loud.

“If Chenchen and Guangguang saw you like this, they would laugh at you.”

Ye Qingshui also broke into a smile through her tears. “You aren’t allowed to be like that anymore. Don’t always hide your feelings and make me guess, okay?”

Xie Tingyu nodded with a smile.

He whispered to her, “I will treat my little sister Shui-er twice as well from now on.”

Just like the way she looked when he first saw her—like water in a clear stream.

Flowing all day without sorrow, laughing always with sincerity.

The year Ye Qingshui graduated, Xie Tingyu joined the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, becoming the most handsome diplomat in history. Ye Qingshui asked him: “Didn’t you say you didn’t like working within the system?”

Xie Tingyu kissed her in the middle of the night and said, “I want to protect you and the children.”

With power in hand, he might not be able to hold her tight (due to work), but without power, he couldn’t protect her. Even though work was busy and reduced the time he spent with her, Xie Tingyu never wanted to taste the bitterness of being forced to lose someone ever again.

Hearing this, Ye Qingshui felt a warmth in her heart and nuzzled his palm. “It’s okay, I’m busy these years too. Let’s work hard for a few years, and once I’m settled, I’ll go abroad with you.”

Xie Tingyu laughed deeply and held his wife tighter.

Due to his work, Xie Tingyu often had to go abroad, but the couple cherished their time together. Their life was peaceful and fulfilling.

That same year, the “Eco-friendly Refrigerator” project Ye Qingshui had started four years ago was finally implemented.

Several students in the project group, including graduate students, were so moved they nearly cried.

“This is a refrigerator we developed ourselves!”

When the first refrigerator came out of the lab, she left it there. When the factory produced the first batch, she decisively brought one home.

Mother Ye looked at the refrigerator as if it were a rare treasure, happily putting the stored fruits and vegetables inside. Although people had become wealthier over the years and “Ten-Thousand Yuan Households” were popping up like mushrooms, the family still hadn’t used a refrigerator until now.

When the fruits ripened, Mother Ye kept enough for the family and gave the rest to the neighbors.

“Shui-ya, this refrigerator works great. It must be very expensive, right?” Mother Ye said excitedly, her voice full of pride.

In this era, being able to buy a refrigerator meant you were capable, but her daughter was the talent who could actually create one. That was much more impressive than just buying one.

Ye Qingshui spoke truthfully: “The initial factory price for this model is 950 yuan, and the retail price is 1,200 yuan.”

Mother Ye’s jaw dropped. No wonder her daughter insisted on making this. One unit sold for over a thousand yuan—the total income of a family of three for an entire year wouldn’t be enough to buy one.

For a thousand yuan, how many sausages would she have to sell to earn that back?

“It’s so expensive, will anyone buy it?”

Ye Qingshui nodded. “Most refrigerators on the market are around this price. Ours is a bit more expensive, but there’s a reason for it. The cost of ‘Feishuang’ (Flying Frost) refrigerators is higher than other brands.”

The project group had recruited many outstanding students from Peking University, and they used the latest international technology. It was different from brands like “Snowflake,” “Wanbao,” or “Xiling”—it was the first truly “energy-saving and eco-friendly” refrigerator.

It consumed only 0.5 kWh of electricity per day while keeping food fresh by effectively locking in moisture. After undergoing the dark period of “crossing the river by feeling the stones,” it caused a huge sensation as soon as it went into production.

The project group named it “Feishuang.”

After being on the market for only one year, its profits far exceeded those of the “Chenguang Food Factory.” By the late 1980s, old-brand refrigerator companies began to show fatigue in the new round of rapid development, losing competitiveness and facing bankruptcies and acquisitions.

But Feishuang refrigerators, upholding the Peking University philosophy of “innovation and progress,” remained standing.

Decades later, Ye Qingshui returned to her alma mater as a successful entrepreneur to give a speech.

When a student asked her: “How can one be successful like you?”

She smiled and said: “I haven’t succeeded. But if you are willing to listen to my advice, I hope you believe in yourself and persist in being yourself.”

She looked at the crowded heads below and unexpectedly saw the man waiting for her to go home. She smiled and said kindly:

“In our era, opportunities for education were very difficult. When I was seventeen or eighteen, I only had an elementary school education. At that time, I faced many doubts—people said I had no culture, no knowledge, and a narrow vision. But someone told me I was great and not to mind the doubts.”

“Even though life will have many difficulties and you will face slander and insults from all sides, never bow your head at any time. Believe in yourself and keep working hard. Time will prove everything.”

After she finished, there was thunderous applause.

After the speech, the man who looked like he had traveled far was standing there quietly, waiting patiently for a long time. He took her hand and said with a smile:

“Let’s go home for dinner.”

He simmered her favorite bone soup and carefully pulled a bowl of hand-made noodles, mixing them with green onions and a few drops of fragrant lard.

He had also picked ripe grapes from the vine and washed them in a bowl.

Ye Qingshui moved the noodles under the grapevines to eat. A gentle breeze blew. Decades later, the courtyard house was still the same courtyard house, but the grapevines covered the trellis, the persimmon trees had grown tall, the jujube trees were full of fruit every year, the swing had been replaced many times, and the children had grown up.

In the blink of an eye, only the two old people were left.

Ye Qingshui slowly finished her noodles and fanned herself with a cattail leaf in the shade. Time flew; the sunlight spilled onto her head, making her silver hair glow.

But Xie Tingyu still remembered how she looked with her two jet-black, shiny braids.

He suddenly laughed.

She looked at him curiously and asked, “What are you laughing at?”

Xie Tingyu said frankly, “I once saw this scene in a dream.”

In truth, it wasn’t a dream; it was the most beautiful thing Xie Tingyu could imagine.

The so-called “most beautiful thing” was being able to grow old slowly with Ye Qingshui—sharing the wind, rain, snow, joys, and regrets of the rest of their lives. Because she was with him, the many unknown and beautiful things in life finally had a reason to exist.

Sansukini: We’ll have the final chapters tomorrow. We’ll have 2 chapters to finish it. Meanwhile, I have a new translation out. Please take some time to check it out, read and bookmark.

Ruyi’s Comfortable Life

Cheng Ruyi, who survived for ten years in the post-apocalyptic world, has transmigrated. She found herself in the body of a female supporting character whose reputation has been utterly ruined, within an ancient-setting novel about a reborn concubine’s daughter that she just finished reading.

Cheng Ruyi is thrilled; she is beyond excited.

The troubles inherited from the original body’s owner are no big deal—she can resolve them in a matter of minutes.

One-Sentence Synopsis:

This is a story about a girl from the apocalypse who thrives in ancient times, crushes all opposition, and lives a comfortable, happy life.

Notes:

1. The female lead solves problems in an extremely simple and “brute force” manner. This is a lighthearted, “palate cleanser” story.
2. A light, “brainless” power fantasy (Shuangwen). The male lead is the cousin—they are not blood-related.

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