#62

“Specific details about the progress I’m not too sure of. If you want to know, it’s better to ask your dad.”

Liang Nuan sent another message.

She hadn’t met Le Yijian many times, but she knew how much the middle-aged man doted on Le Ya—almost as if he wanted to keep her sheltered in an ivory tower.

Though Liang Nuan thought this approach was a bit problematic, she couldn’t interfere with how other families interacted.

It was better to be upfront about such matters.

Le Ya replied to Liang Nuan, then put down her phone and took a deep breath, unsure how to bring it up with her father.

If everything was already arranged, there was no way she could refuse.

Le Ya had always taken that conversation as a joke because Le Yijian hadn’t brought it up again afterward. Occasionally, he would ask her which schools she liked, and she had even mentioned one at the time.

Now she realized it had completely disrupted her plans.

Le Yijian arrived at the hospital three days later.

Due to work commitments, he could only fly over once a week, staying for just one day each time—which was already a lot for Le Ya.

Before, she had tried to tell him not to come—it was too exhausting—but he insisted. This time, Le Ya waited anxiously for him to arrive.

After the doctor left the office, Le Yijian finally relaxed. “Just wait a little longer.”

Le Ya nodded.

Her gaze fell on the magazines on the table, and she asked softly: “Dad, are you helping me with study abroad arrangements?”

“Yes,” Le Yijian said. “It’s already done.”

Le Ya bit her lip. “I don’t want to study abroad.”

Le Yijian explained: “Yueya, do you realize? By the time your recovery period is over, schools in China will have already started—or even finished the first semester. It’ll be hard for you to catch up if you enroll late. Aren’t foreign schools good enough?”

What he said made sense.

Le Ya hadn’t considered this before.

Le Yijian was skilled at persuasion. “And most importantly, what you need now is rest—not rushing back to school.”

Le Ya blurted out: “I can take a year off.”

Le Yijian finally sensed something was off. His voice grew stern: “Yueya, are you hiding something from me?”

At his words, Le Ya felt a pang of guilt in her heart.

She shook her head slightly. “No.”

One look at her, and Le Yijian knew his daughter was troubled. Sighing inwardly, he said: “Dad will give you some time to think.”

Le Ya hesitated. “Okay.”

After leaving the ward, Le Yijian went to the doctor’s office to discuss follow-up treatments for her ear. He stayed overnight before returning home.

Almost the moment he arrived at the airport, he called a contact at the school. It was around the time when exam results were being released.

The friend said: “Le Ya has done our school proud. When she left, I was worried we’d lose a promising student, but her scores turned out so well!”

The estimated score reported by her homeroom teacher had been 700 points, but her actual score was 712—top-tier in the province.

Le Yijian said proudly: “Of course my daughter is the best.”

Even while abroad before the surgery, Le Ya had been studying and solving problems every day, not slacking off at all compared to when she was in school.

“All right, I know you’re obsessed with your daughter,” the friend chuckled. “You didn’t call me today just to ask about her scores, did you?”

Le Yijian thought for a moment. “I wanted to ask about something else.”

The two talked for nearly several hours.

From the airport all the way to the office, Le Yijian’s secretary noticed the heavy expression on his face and was baffled, wondering if something had gone wrong.

It wasn’t until evening that the call ended.

Le Yijian pinched the bridge of his nose, realizing why Le Ya had suddenly become so insistent about studying domestically. So that was it.

The secretary brought in tea. “Boss, would you like something to eat?”

Le Yijian waved him off. Just as the secretary was about to leave, he suddenly asked: “How’s the sponsorship matter going?”

The secretary, who managed this, quickly responded: “I can pull up the files immediately. Do you need them now?”

Le Yijian said: “Bring them over.”

The accumulated files from all these years were quite thick. The secretary had been the one reviewing them; Le Yijian hadn’t had the patience to look through them.

When the secretary placed the files on the desk, he accidentally glimpsed the screen of the computer. He was momentarily stunned.

Did their boss actually browse online forums?

When Le Yijian returned home, Le Ya was filled with unease.

She didn’t know if he had discovered something or why he had suddenly become so adamant.

Le Ya didn’t think studying abroad was bad.

After waiting two days, she subtly probed Chen Yang for information but found nothing suspicious, which eased her worries.

During this time, Liang Nuan came to visit her. The two chatted on the lawn below.

“He cheated on me, did you know?” Liang Nuan was furious. “Damn it, I’m so angry. He complained that I wasn’t open-minded enough—well, fine, I won’t be!”

Le Ya consoled her: “If it’s not working out, just move on.”

“I’ve already dumped him,” Liang Nuan said, glaring. “And guess who he cheated with? My roommate! They’re a perfect match—a kettle and its lid.”

Le Ya had heard her talk about her roommate before—the stories were outrageous. Unfortunately for Liang Nuan, her contract hadn’t expired yet.

Liang Nuan then asked: “What about your study abroad plans?”

Le Ya replied: “It seems they’re already set.”

Seeing her lack of enthusiasm, Liang Nuan explained: “People think foreign education is elite. Le Yijian thinks more about this than you do. And honestly, I agree. For people like me, you can shine anywhere.”

That was the difference between people.

Having lived here for a few years, Liang Nuan had seen a lot. She wanted to earn a prestigious degree so that when she returned home, her salary would be double or even triple that of ordinary college graduates—or she could find a job abroad directly.

This had become the norm.

Le Ya thought for a moment, replying vaguely: “I want to attend the same school as the boy I like.”

To Liang Nuan, such an idea seemed incredibly naive.

“You probably don’t realize how many couples break up after starting new schools,” Liang Nuan said. “If a university can separate you, then maybe it’s not worth continuing. Can’t he come to you?”

Le Ya wanted to say that he was quite poor.

What if, like in the news, a plane ticket costing thousands of yuan meant eating instant noodles and pickles for the next month…

It was hard to imagine.

Liang Nuan didn’t know she was thinking so far ahead, nor did she understand the connection between Chen Yang and Le Ya. She simply spoke based on her own assumptions.

Casually, she said: “If he can’t come to you, why not let him visit?”

Le Ya sighed deeply.

Taking out her phone, she stared at Chen Yang’s name in WeChat. After hesitating for a long time, she finally told him about the situation.

...

Chen Yang stood in the office, looking down at the lawn below.

Le Ya was playing with a child, while Liang Nuan held a teapot nearby. It was winter, and the warm sunlight sparkled below.

His phone still displayed a message he had received not long ago.

Le Yijian stood beside him and asked: “Do you have anything to say?”

Since discovering the situation at school, he had barely slept all night, never realizing that Le Ya and Chen Yang had grown so close.

He assumed keeping the sponsorship a secret would prevent the sponsored student from knowing.

Chen Yang quietly observed the scene below.

When Le Yijian first met him, he realized this young man was nothing like his father. Their personalities were completely opposite—Chen Yang even exuded a subtle sense of recklessness.

Calmly, Chen Yang said: “I’ve long considered this day would come.”

Le Yijian noticed that he spoke neither humbly nor arrogantly—like an adult—and was momentarily amused. “What can you offer her?”

Chen Yang replied: “Give me a few years.”

Le Yijian said: “A few years to stand on your own?”

Chen Yang smiled. “No—to soar.”

Le Yijian: “….”

He would have to see how Chen Yang planned to “soar.”

The abrupt vibration of a phone interrupted the conversation between the two. Chen Yang opened it to find a message from Le Ya: “Did you see it?”

Chen Yang furrowed his brows and replied: “It’s good.”

Le Ya hadn’t expected him to agree with her studying abroad, so she quickly typed out a flurry of messages: “You think so too?”

Just as Chen Yang was about to reply, he caught Le Yijian glancing over out of the corner of his eye. The words he was about to send abruptly changed course.

“I agree with Uncle’s decision.”

Le Yijian relaxed visibly, stepping back with a satisfied expression.

The Chen family wasn’t impressive, but if this kid dared to play tricks behind his back, today would be the day he learned a lesson.

Le Ya: “Did your account get hacked?”

Chen Yang chuckled at her quirky thought and replied: “No.”

A few years at most.

For her, and for himself.

After agreeing to the study abroad plan, Le Ya’s relationship with Le Yijian improved somewhat.

As for Chen Yang’s brief visit to the hospital and subsequent departure, she had no idea about it from start to finish—neither did Liang Nuan.

Time passed quickly in Australia.

Le Ya remained in the hospital for a while before venturing out with Liang Nuan later on. Life without her hearing aids felt strange.

After wearing them for ten years, they were suddenly removed. The buzzing sounds she used to hear were now crystal clear.

It was wonderful.

Liang Nuan took Le Ya to the streets, where many street performers played music with just a guitar, their hats laid out on the ground for tips.

Seeing that Le Ya was in a good mood, Liang Nuan asked: “Doesn’t it sound great?”

Le Ya’s lips curved into a smile. “It sounds amazing.”

This world had always sounded beautiful.

Le Ya’s daily life consisted of exploring the world with Liang Nuan and then returning home to prepare for school matters—it was fulfilling and interesting.

She also picked up photography.

Every day, she would organize the photos she took and send them to Chen Yang.

By the end of the first year, Su Hui and Xie Qingyu came to visit her, combining it with a vacation. Coincidentally, Le Ya had just received her offer letter.

What surprised Le Ya was how much Su Hui had changed.

Xie Qingyu explained: “She went through a breakup, so I thought it’d be a good time to come together and help her relax.”

The reason for the breakup was never mentioned.

It wasn’t until a week later, when they were about to leave and Le Ya accompanied them to the airport, that Su Hui finally said: “You still don’t know who I dated, do you?”

Le Ya casually asked: “Who?”

“Su Cheng.”

The name Su Cheng felt distant. It took Le Ya a moment to recall, and she exclaimed: “Isn’t he your brother?”

“What brother?” Su Hui scoffed. “Our reconstituted family fell apart again. They each went their separate ways, and Su Cheng and I became strangers.”

Le Ya suddenly remembered something. “When you told me once that he made you drink papaya juice, I found it strange. I didn’t expect you two actually dated.”

Su Hui said: “He’s a pervert. I was right all along—he’s just a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I’m the one who dumped him.”

After finishing her rant, the two boarded the plane. As Le Ya watched it take off, she thought about when she might return home herself.

That night, she received a voice message from Xie Qingyu complaining:

“He says bad things, but his actions tell the truth. Su Cheng probably has no idea where she’s been these past few days. She looked so miserable, and he lured her away…”

Attached was a photo.

Le Ya couldn’t help but laugh as she looked at it.

Truly leaving Australia happened a month later. After the doctor’s final check-up, he smiled and said: “Congratulations.”

At that moment, Le Ya almost cried.

Not long after, she headed to her new school.

The students here were quite different from those in China. Their lifestyles, studies, and ways of making friends were unique. The only commonality was their enthusiasm.

Le Ya lived in a university apartment shared with two other roommates. Every time she ended a call with Chen Yang, her roommates would mimic her tone.

Then they’d call her “Sweetheart.”

From initial embarrassment to eventual calmness, Le Ya adapted.

The school had many rules, but studying at a foreign university wasn’t particularly difficult. Most challenges came from not graduating or failing to earn enough credits.

Le Ya studied design, which involved a lot of drawing. The techniques she learned during her treatment with her teacher proved helpful. Scholarships aside, she won several competitions.

On the night of her roommate’s birthday, they threw a party for her. It was Le Ya’s first time trying alcohol, and she got drunk after just one sip.

In her drunken state, she sent a voice message to Chen Yang: “Why don’t you come see me?”

Her tone was full of委屈 (grievance).

When Chen Yang played the voice message, his companions heard it clearly. They assumed she would immediately block and delete him.

To their astonishment, the next moment, they saw Chen Yang calling her to comfort her.

Everyone was dumbfounded.

Le Ya woke up the next morning as the sun rose, dazedly heading to class. She didn’t remember what she had promised during the phone call.

When she saw the figure outside her apartment, she froze.

Chen Yang stood there, leaning against the wall. A few white girls passed by, glanced at him flirtatiously, and considered approaching him.

Le Ya called out: “Chen Yang.”

After such a long time, he looked even better—taller, with sharper features. His tightly closed lips gave off an air of aloofness, yet he was undeniably attractive.

Chen Yang looked up and strode toward her.

Before Le Ya could react, he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against his firm chest.

She was still so warm and soft.

The scent of male pheromones filled her nose. She wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his embrace. “Why are you here?”

Chen Yang’s voice came from above: “I missed you.”

He had missed her like crazy.

He had wanted to come earlier.

Le Ya listened happily. “Your voice sounds a bit hoarse.”

“Caught a cold,” Chen Yang lied casually, his hand resting on her waist, holding her firmly. After a moment, he pinched her earlobe, and she instinctively flinched.

Suddenly, she remembered something she wanted to ask but feared it might hurt his pride. By evening, after dinner, her brows were furrowed.

Chen Yang recalled the soft, sobbing voice from last night’s message, which had haunted his dreams all night.

Helplessly, he said: “I won’t eat pickles.”

Le Ya quickly realized what he meant, her ears turning red as if they might bleed. She explained: “I was just worried. Don’t overthink it.”

Chen Yang thought to himself—he wasn’t that poor.

But in Le Ya’s mind, he was deeply ingrained as someone impoverished. Unless she saw proof otherwise, she wouldn’t believe it.

Chen Yang left the next day.

Le Ya’s mood improved significantly. Only when she revisited WeChat did she discover the strange voice messages she had sent while drunk. It was too late to retract them.

In the end, when focused on living earnestly, time seemed insignificant.

A year passed in the blink of an eye.

The remaining four years would pass just as swiftly.