Then she followed up, “Which friend are you renting with? Are they reliable?”

“Reliable,” Jin Zhao said vaguely, lowering her head. “A friend I’ve known since childhood.”

Jin Wenyi, however, wasn’t easy to fool. She turned to stare at her and asked, “Which childhood friend of yours are you still in contact with now?”

Jin Zhao didn’t look at her. She picked up the communal spoon and ladled a spoonful of fish soup for Jin Wenyi. As she set it down, she skirted the issue and said, “The one from the same neighborhood, you don’t remember her.”

A spark flashed through Jin Wenyi’s mind, and she blurted out, “You mean Wu Nian!”

Jin Zhao: “……” What a terrifying memory!

When Jin Wenyi got excited, her voice would unconsciously grow louder, sounding like she was scolding a child. Zhao Xu quickly reminded her, “Lower your voice. People will think you’re arguing.”

Jin Wenyi glanced around, trying to control her emotions, and reasoned with Jin Zhao, “Lingling, it’s not that you’re grown up and your aunt still wants to control you. Others aside, but Wu Nian—that girl, that girl…”

She weighed her words, trying to be as objective as possible. “Her nature is good. She’s straightforward, with no bad intentions. But the people around her are too mixed—all kinds of people. From the very beginning, she and you were not on the same path. Back then, the reason you ended up befriending her was because Lin Yao set you up—”

Seeing Jin Wenyi crossing the line as she spoke, Zhao Xu interrupted, “Alright. Look at you—what are you even saying to the child.”

He turned to Jin Zhao and asked gently, “Lingling, is Wu Nian still singing as a resident performer at bars?”

“No,” Jin Zhao explained. “She happened to take part in a singing talent show back then and attracted quite a few fans. Later she signed with a management company. Now she mainly does self-media, and occasionally takes on some acting roles.”

Zhao Xu fell silent for a moment, then smiled. “Lingling, you’ve just returned to the country. Living outside and taking a look at how things have changed domestically is a good thing. But it’s fine to live outside temporarily—living outside long-term is a considerable expense. Have you thought about it? You haven’t evaluated your professional title yet, your salary isn’t high. Renting outside, in the end, isn’t a long-term solution. If there’s a problem with the dorm, then solve the problem. Have you tried talking to the leader in charge of assets to see if you can switch dorms?”

“I have,” Jin Zhao said. “The Asset Management Office said there have been a lot of new teachers in the past couple of years, so dorms are indeed tight. But they also said the school is already building new dorm buildings—suites. At the latest, they’ll be able to allocate new dorms to teachers next year.”

Only then did Jin Wenyi and Zhao Xu feel reassured.

After finishing with work matters, Jin Wenyi smoothly moved the conversation to the next agenda and began talking about relationships. “Then let’s get back to it. You’ve been working for a few months now—have you met any single male teachers at your school who catch your eye? Your colleagues around you should be well-matched with you. You should pay more attention in your daily life, and actively participate when there are activities.”

As soon as Jin Wenyi started urging marriage again, Jin Zhao hurriedly looked to her uncle for help.

On this matter, Zhao Xu actually stood on the same side as his wife. He smiled and said, “Your aunt is right. Now that your job has stabilized, it’s time to consider lifelong matters.”

Jin Wenyi put down her chopsticks. “Exactly. A girl’s prime doesn’t last long. Don’t finally free up some time from your studies, only to waste it all resisting.”

Jin Zhao muttered softly, “How am I resisting?”

“Don’t act coy.” Jin Wenyi began dredging up old accounts again. “Last year, before you even came back to the country, I was already introducing people to you—from the UK all the way to Suiyi. How many photos did I show you? You insisted you didn’t want blind dates, said you wanted to meet someone on your own. Fine—then go out and meet someone yourself! But look at you, day in and day out it’s just school and work, no social life at all. On holidays you stay home and don’t go out. What a waste of that face of yours, pretty as a flower.”

“Tell your aunt the truth—do you still want to get married in this lifetime?” Jin Wenyi asked seriously.

Jin Zhao bit her lip and didn’t say anything.

“Alright. Not saying you don’t want to means you do. Then your aunt will tell you this from the standpoint of someone who’s been through it: if you truly don’t want to get married, then fine. But if you still want to, you need to do it early. The older you get, the fewer choices you have. There really aren’t many good men.”

Jin Zhao naturally knew they were right. After a quiet moment, she gently let out a breath. “Alright, I’ll try.”

“That’s more like it. The most important first step in choosing a partner is not resisting the idea.” Jin Wenyi continued. “Your uncle and I will help keep an eye out too. So tell us, what kind of boy do you like?”

Jin Zhao didn’t speak. In the few seconds of silence, a familiar figure suddenly appeared before her eyes—black top, black trousers, tall and straight.

—He really appeared. It wasn’t an illusion.

In fact, for a split second, she also thought it was her imagination. But the next moment, when those dark, sparse, cool peach-blossom eyes briefly met hers and then indifferently shifted away, she was so startled her eyes went wide.

Meng Yanxi walked past their table, one hand in his pocket, as if he didn’t know her at all, leaving behind a trace of cool mountain pine and mist.

Jin Zhao’s back went stiff, her whole body on the verge of cracking apart.

Why was he here?

She stared hard at the folding screen behind her uncle across the table.

It was said that Luxi’s restaurant was extremely popular for two reasons: one, the food was genuinely good; two, they only served thirty tables a day. With demand far exceeding supply, the reservation queue was naturally long. According to her aunt, today’s meal had been booked a month in advance.

All the seats were by the windows, facing the lake and mountain scenery outside through floor-to-ceiling glass. Between each table stood hollow-carved wooden screens, giving a sense of privacy.

Yes—a sense of privacy.

She had truly thought there was no one in front of or behind them!

She never would have imagined that Meng Yanxi would suddenly come out from behind the screen.

How could it be such a coincidence—that they had reservations on the same day, and were seated right next to each other?

Then everything she’d said just now with her aunt and uncle—about being poor, about bugs in the dorms, about not wanting to look for someone but also kind of wanting to—hadn’t he heard it all?

Jin Zhao slapped a hand over her face.

The sound of footsteps faded away. Jin Wenyi suddenly grabbed her hand and lowered her voice. “Lingling, did you see that boy who just walked past you? Tall and handsome, looks clean, his eyes seem upright and decent. Do you like that type?”

Jin Zhao: “……”

She truly didn’t know what to say.

Was it that she didn’t go to Tsinghua or Peking University because she didn’t want to?

“Auntie…” Jin Zhao looked at Jin Wenyi, hesitating, but in the end she couldn’t hold it in and blurted out what was on her mind. “What kind of daydream are you having?”

She dared to dream about winning thirty million, but not something this big.

Thankfully, Meng Yanxi hadn’t heard that line—otherwise she really wouldn’t have the face to see him again.

“You child, what nonsense are you talking about?” Jin Wenyi laughed and cried at the same time, lightly patting her.

Jin Zhao wanted to say—the one talking nonsense isn’t me, it’s you.

Even her students knew that cross-class relationships shouldn’t be pursued, let alone hers and Meng Yanxi’s—between them, it wasn’t just a single class gap.

Campus life could briefly blur the differences between people, but the student days were already over.

Jin Zhao wanted to wake her aunt up, when footsteps sounded again, drawing closer from afar.

Having just learned her lesson, Jin Zhao immediately turned back on guard.

Meng Yanxi had returned. Behind him was an assistant in a suit, clean-looking, tall and straight, only half a head shorter than him. Behind the assistant followed a man and a woman, both stylishly dressed—the woman with heavy makeup, a mic clipped to her collar; the man a bit heavier-set, a camera slung over his shoulder.

They looked like a reporter and a photographer.

The female reporter, stepping quickly in high heels, followed after them, apologizing repeatedly as she walked. “Sorry, sorry, President Meng, we’re really very sorry for making you wait.”

Meng Yanxi didn’t speak. His assistant behind him said politely yet distantly, “It’s fine. We notified you on short notice, it was indeed a bit rushed.”

“Not at all, not at all. President Meng, that you’re willing to accept our interview is our honor.”

The group quickly approached. Jin Zhao hurriedly turned around, pretending to lower her head to eat.

The sounds of high heels and leather shoes on the floor grew closer. Amid the rhythmic tapping, she heard the female reporter ask as they walked, “Then, President Meng, do you think this interview outline is alright?”

Meng Yanxi’s voice was calm. “Remove the last question.”

“The last question…”

Meng Yanxi had always refused interviews before this. It wasn’t until an hour earlier that they suddenly received a call saying he was available now. The reporter had rushed over too urgently, her mind momentarily blank, unable to recall what the last question was, and was just about to take out the outline to check.

Meng Yanxi said, “No girlfriend. I’m single.”