Chapter 72

Because she had just arrived at school and already seen the future “Big Boss” and “Second Big Boss,” Zhenzhen remained in a bit of a daze even by the time they reached the cafeteria. Mingbei exchanged food coupons and cash for meal tickets, fetched three portions of food, and placed them on the table. Seeing Zhenzhen staring off blankly, he couldn’t help but reach out and touch her forehead. “What’s with you? Too happy to be in college?”

Zhenzhen pulled down Mingbei’s hand, picked up a bite of food with her chopsticks and stuffed it into her mouth, her voice full of excitement: “Brother, we’re the first batch of university students after the college entrance exams were reinstated. This exam happens once in ten years. All the top talents from across the country are here—we have to seize this opportunity. We should spend more time in the library reading, and learn from our classmates and upperclassmen. We absolutely can’t afford to fall behind. Otherwise, thirty years from now, you won’t even dare say you were so-and-so’s classmate.”

Mingbei scratched his head sheepishly. “It’s not that I don’t like studying. It’s just that back when I was going to school at home, whether you finished middle school or high school, you still ended up doing the same kind of work. I just didn’t feel motivated. But now that we’re in the capital, there’s no way I’m going to waste my days like before. That would make getting into Guoda(National University) pointless. Don’t worry, Zhenzhen. I’ll definitely study hard. If not for the sake of my classmates, at least I can’t lose face in front of your sister-in-law.”

Hearing this, Wang Xinwen smiled sweetly and kept picking pieces of meat from her plate to put on Mingbei’s. “Once classes start, we won’t be able to see each other all the time. Probably only on weekends when we go home. You have to take care of yourself, and eat more meat.” Mingbei looked at Wang Xinwen with such a lovestruck expression that Zhenzhen had to look away.

She quietly lowered her head and looked at her food: braised pork with potatoes, and pork belly with green beans. She glanced at Mingbei and teased, “It’s only been a few days without meat, and you actually bought two meat dishes?”

Mingbei sighed deeply. “Zhenzhen, do you think now that we’re in the capital, we’ll never get to feast on wild pheasants, rabbits, and roe deer again like we used to?”

Zhenzhen held back her laughter and gave a serious nod. “At the very least, you’d have to go out to the suburbs to find a mountain. But in a place like the capital, I’m sure they won’t let you just go around catching wild rabbits. From now on, wild game is just something for your dreams.”

Looking at the mountain of meat in his bowl, Mingbei sighed again in disappointment, but quickly began putting more into Wang Xinwen’s bowl. “You eat more, honey. Your body hasn’t fully recovered and now you have to start school. You can’t afford to be malnourished.”

Wang Xinwen gave him a sweet smile. The two of them fed each other so lovingly that they completely forgot about Zhenzhen sitting right there. Zhenzhen clutched her lonely little heart and let out a bitter sigh. Once again, the lifelong single dog was being force-fed dog food—utterly depressing.

After eating, Zhenzhen and Wang Xinwen went with Mingbei to check out his dorm so they’d know where to find him if anything came up. But as more students kept arriving, it wasn’t convenient to hang around. They arranged a time to meet up on the weekend, then headed back to their school together.

Zhenzhen had arrived earlier than most students, so when she returned to her dorm, no one else was there. She closed the door, and with a flash of her figure, she teleported back to the mountains of Beicha and mentally called for Li Mingzhong.

Mingzhong was sunbathing in the yard when he suddenly heard Zhenzhen’s voice in his head. Delighted, he jumped up and started barking excitedly while looking around. Seeing that he hadn’t spotted her yet, Zhenzhen added, “Come up the mountain.”

Ignoring Tianhu’s calls from behind, Mingzhong tore off like a mad dog and reached Zhenzhen’s side in just over ten minutes.

Zhenzhen patted his head and took out a basin of rabbit meat from her space, placing it in front of him. “I brought you some meat, just for you. Go ahead and eat.” Mingzhong let out a happy bark, buried his head in the basin, and started devouring the food like a starving wolf.

When the whole family left Beicha, the one Zhenzhen worried about most was Mingzhong. Over the years, aside from Dahuang who could fend for himself in the mountains, Mingzhong and Braised Chicken Nugget had been raised by her. She’d watched them grow old little by little. Braised Chicken Nugget had lived to the ripe old age of ten, becoming Beicha’s longest-lived rooster, and after he passed away peacefully, he was buried in the Red Pine Mountain.

Mingzhong was now fifteen years old, already considered elderly for a dog. Zhenzhen had once thought about keeping him in her space so he could always be with her. But seeing how empty that space was, she couldn’t bear to do it. Mingzhong had roamed free in the mountains his whole life—how could she cage him up in a lonely place without any companions in his old age? It was better to leave him with Limu Sen at home to keep Tianhu company. After all, Zhenzhen could teleport anytime to visit.

Not just Zhenzhen—even Grandma Li and the rest of the family were reluctant to part with Mingzhong. But the train compartments were cramped and packed, with everyone lugging countless bags. There was simply no way to bring Mingzhong to the capital. So Grandma Li solemnly entrusted him to Limu Sen, telling him to take good care of the dog, not to force him to hunt, and to just let him enjoy a peaceful retirement basking in the sun.

Limu Sen knew how much the second brother’s family loved Mingzhong, so he readily agreed. He even moved Mingzhong’s doghouse into the kitchen for warmth, so he wouldn’t freeze. But honestly, for dogs, where they sleep isn’t as important—it’s whether there’s meat in the bowl that counts.

The Limu Sen household wasn’t well off. The meat they got each month through ration coupons mostly went to cooking lard, and even the adults were reluctant to eat the leftover bits, let alone feed it to Mingzhong. And ever since the early ’70s, all hunting rifles had been confiscated, so there was no more hunting like in the old days.

Zhenzhen understood this and secretly opened a “private kitchen” for Mingzhong. Before leaving Beicha, she’d caught more than ten wild rabbits, stewed them all in one big pot and stored them in her space. Since everything in the space was perfectly preserved, she didn’t need to worry about the meat going bad. Whenever she visited Mingzhong, she’d just scoop out a couple ladles for him—no need to cook it fresh every time.

As she watched Mingzhong eat, Zhenzhen began brushing his fur. “In a few days, I’ll officially start school. I won’t be able to visit you every day. I’ll come once every five or six days and bring you meat, okay?”

Li Mingzhong wagged his tail happily, letting out a joyful bark. “We’ll need a big bowl for that—too little won’t be enough to eat.” Zhenzhen smiled, then pulled out a big pancake from her space, broke it into small pieces, and dropped them into the meat bowl. Li Mingzhong devoured the soup and pancake until the bowl was spotless, even licking it clean before contentedly flopping onto the ground.

Zhenzhen wasn’t in a rush to leave either. She planned to take advantage of the free time to gather more medicinal herbs like ginseng and lingzhi. Whether for gifting or selling later, they’d be handy to have. After all, she couldn’t keep going out with golden pomfret—way too conspicuous.

She found ten century-old ginsengs and stored them away in her space, along with many other herbs. After washing her hands in the space, she looked at Li Mingzhong and asked, “I’m going to check on Dahuang, wanna come?”

Li Mingzhong instantly perked up his tail and shook his head in disgust. Zhenzhen laughed and patted his fur. “He actually likes you, you know. You could go play with him sometime. If you keep hanging out with Tianhu all the time, I’m afraid you’ll end up dumb like him.”

Thinking of Tianhu’s silly face, Li Mingzhong let out a very human-like sigh. “Honestly, being dumb’s not so bad—no worries.”

Zhenzhen burst out laughing. “You’re smart. Tell me then, what are you worried about?”

Li Mingzhong gave her a flattering look. “How about switching it up a bit—maybe stew some flying dragon or something?”

“You wish.” Zhenzhen laughed, pushing his head aside. “Flying dragons are getting rarer and rarer. I have to start protecting them now. Don’t even think about stewing one.” Seeing his disappointed expression, Zhenzhen patted him. “Wild chicken’s pretty tasty too. I’ll cook it a different way for you next time. Alright, go home early—I’ll come see you in five days.”

Li Mingzhong nodded, affectionately licked her palm, and then happily bounded down the mountain. Watching him disappear into the distance, Zhenzhen teleported beside Dahuang. Startled, Dahuang jumped and roared at her in annoyance, got up and flopped down with his back to her.

“What’s wrong? I scared you? Why are you so skittish?” Zhenzhen laughed at Dahuang.

Now that Dahuang had developed spiritual intelligence and could talk to her, he snorted haughtily. “I just hate the dumb dog smell on you.”

“Oh wow, look at you. The only one brave enough to come play with you is Li Mingzhong, and you can’t even find a tigress, so what are you so smug about?” Zhenzhen laughed even more. “Alright, stop acting cool. If you don’t come over, I’m leaving.”

As soon as he heard she was leaving, Dahuang obediently plopped down next to her, hugging his head with his paws. Zhenzhen sat on his back, gently stroking his fur over and over. “There are fewer and fewer tigers nowadays. Don’t go down the mountain unless you really have to. Just stay hidden in the deep mountains. If someone catches you and sticks you in a zoo or something, I won’t be able to save you, got it?”

Dahuang let out a roar full of sarcasm. “Stupid humans…”

Smack! Zhenzhen gave his head a slap. “I’m human too.”

Dahuang shrank back a little and grumbled, “I meant normal people.”

“You saying I’m not normal?” Zhenzhen raised her eyebrows. Dahuang pressed his paws to his head, thinking hard for a long while, unable to figure out what he’d said wrong.

Seeing his big tiger face show a troubled expression, Zhenzhen couldn’t help but laugh. She rubbed the fur on his head and reminded him again, “Remember, don’t wander off. When I visit Li Mingzhong again, I’ll drop by and check on you too.”

Hearing that he was just an afterthought, Dahuang grumbled, “That dumb dog.” Zhenzhen patted his head and disappeared in front of him.

Since it was still early, Zhenzhen wasn’t in a hurry to go back. She teleported directly to the treehouse she had built. With technology advancing so fast, if she didn’t clear away this treehouse made from dozens of trees, someone would eventually spot it. But looking at the vibrant trees and remembering why she built it, she felt reluctant to tear it down.

After a brief hesitation, she waved her hand and stored the entire treehouse into her space. Then she leveled out the land and instantly grew rows of trees identical to those nearby.

The treehouse settled in one corner of her space, where it quickly sprouted fresh leaves. Zhenzhen’s sharp eyes caught sight of a wild beehive hanging from the roof, and she gleefully took it down. She poured out the honey into a few clean, dried glass jars she had on hand.

Taking in the rich aroma of wild honey, Zhenzhen pulled out her Qinghua bowl made in the Kangxi era of the Qing dynasty. She scooped in two spoons of honey, added warm water until the bowl was nearly full, and stirred it with a matching spoon. Sitting on the sofa, she sipped the honey water, snacked on freshly picked blueberries, and spent a leisurely evening reading.

When the space alarm rang, Zhenzhen got up to turn it off and mentally checked her dorm. Seeing no one had returned, she confidently reappeared in the room.

Turning on the light, she read for half the night, only drawing the curtain and lying down to sleep when lights-out time came. Maybe the Capital University just felt extra safe, but Zhenzhen slept all the way until nine in the morning. By then, the cafeteria was long closed, and she was just about to get something to eat from her space when she heard a knock at the door.

Opening it, she saw Wang Xinwen come in, placing a steamed bun and a container of porridge on the desk while smiling at her. “Sleeping in, huh? I came by twice this morning and saw the door was locked, so I didn’t knock. The bun’s still a little warm—eat before it gets cold.”

Zhenzhen thanked her and sat down to sip the porridge. “I went out yesterday afternoon and came back late. Forgot to tell you.”

“I figured you went out to play when I saw the room empty,” Wang Xinwen said with a smile. Glancing around the still-empty dorm, she asked curiously, “Why haven’t your other roommates arrived? Ours are all here already.”

Just as she finished speaking, a girl with two large burlap sacks on her back pushed the door open and walked in. When she looked up and saw the two of them staring curiously at her, she grinned. “I’m Wei Yujin—also in this dorm.”

Zhenzhen immediately smiled. “My name is Li Mingzhen, and this is my sister-in-law, Wang Xinwen, from the Law Department.”

Wei Yujin set the burlap sack on the floor. Seeing how the room was spotlessly clean and gleaming, she knew that the pretty girl in front of her had cleaned the dorm thoroughly. She picked the bed near the door, pulled out patched bedding from the sack, made her bed, and finally sat down with a sigh of relief.

“Can you believe how lucky we are?” Wei Yujin cheerfully said while rummaging for her water jar. “I spent ten years down in the Northwest countryside. I’ve forgotten all my math, physics, and chemistry—only thing I remember is how to drive a tractor and farm the land.” She hurried off to wash her jar, then came back and added, “But I’m great at hard work. I was the team leader at our educated youth station.”

Zhenzhen picked up her thermos and helped pour a jar of water for her. Wei Yujin smiled and thanked her, blowing on the hot water as she asked, “Sister, where are you two from?”

“Heilongjiang Province.” Zhenzhen’s eyes curved as she smiled, as if she carried her own light—people couldn’t look away. “I didn’t go to the countryside. After high school, I prepped for six months and went straight to the college entrance exam. But my sister-in-law spent three years at a youth station—planting trees, digging soil, all that.”

Wei Yujin looked at the refined-looking Wang Xinwen and clicked her tongue in surprise. “You’d never guess she’s been through hardship. Wang-sister, you’re truly a natural beauty.”

Wang Xinwen gave a slightly embarrassed smile. As they were chatting, more people started arriving in the dorm. There was Guo Xiaoqiao, a girl from the imperial capital who had only spent one year in the countryside before testing back; Meng Ranxiao, a girl from Tianjin who talked like a crosstalk performer; and Xu Jiajia, a bold and cheerful girl from the Ice City…

Everyone was warm and down-to-earth. After introducing themselves repeatedly, they quickly became familiar with one another. In no time, they were calling each other “Big Sis” and “Little Sis,” and the conversation turned to their major.

All of Zhenzhen’s dormmates were journalism majors. Along with Literature and Classical Philology, the three majors were part of the Chinese Department. During their freshman year, aside from major-specific courses, they shared literature and general courses.

On the first day of class, it was barely light when Wei Yujin got up. The rustling of clothes being put on was like a switch—everyone sat up to get dressed. Seeing that everyone was awake, Wei Yujin simply turned on the light, walked to the head of Zhenzhen’s bed, and called through the curtain, “Li Mingzhen, get up already.”

Zhenzhen peeked her messy head out from behind the curtain, looked at the watch by her pillow, and said, confused, “Sister Wei, it’s only a little past five.”

“I know.” Seeing Zhenzhen’s hair all messy and her face looking like a sleepy kitten, Wei Yujin couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle her hair. “The three majors share the same literature class. If we don’t grab seats early, we won’t get the front row.”

At that, Zhenzhen immediately perked up. She quickly got out of bed, washed up in a hurry, packed her water bottle and unfinished book into her bag, and left the dorm with her classmates.

After breakfast, the journalism girls were the first to arrive in the classroom. Zhenzhen sat in the first row, pulled out her unfinished literary work, and continued reading with great interest.

As time passed, more and more students trickled in. The room filled with voices and the scraping of chairs. But Zhenzhen was completely immersed in her book, undisturbed.

Suddenly, Wei Yujin nudged her arm and whispered, “Stop reading—the teacher’s here.”

Zhenzhen quickly stashed her book under the desk. When she looked up, she locked eyes with Wangwo. Seeing his smiling eyes, she gave a sheepish grin. She had known that she would eventually run into Wangwo, Su Weiran, and Xu Mengguo in the imperial capital, but she hadn’t expected it to happen so soon—and certainly not that Wangwo would be her teacher. Still, it made sense. The Chinese Department at Imperial Capital University was the best in the country, so it wasn’t strange that they had brought Wangwo in to teach.

The other students recognized him too. As the first Chinese winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, Wangwo’s photo had appeared in countless newspapers that year. The students all stood up and welcomed him with enthusiastic applause.

Now nearly eighty years old, Wangwo had maintained good health over the years, but he still couldn’t stand for long. After telling the students to sit, he took a seat behind the lectern, warming his hands on a teacup as he began to teach.

Wangwo had a rich life experience and a deep literary foundation. The textbooks hadn’t been updated yet—they were still using materials from the revolutionary period. Wangwo hadn’t even brought a book; he simply sat in his chair, sipping tea and lecturing with ease.

The class lasted a full hour and a half. When the bell rang, Wangwo stood up, but the students, completely absorbed, didn’t want him to leave. They surged forward, surrounding him completely. Seeing layer upon layer of eager students around him, Wangwo felt both excited and gratified—he hadn’t seen this kind of thirst for knowledge in years.

He leaned on the lectern and made a downward motion with his hand, and the room immediately fell silent. “I know you’re all eager to learn, and I’m eager to share what I know. But the next class starts in ten minutes—we can’t take up that time. If any of you have questions, feel free to come to my office. We’ll discuss them together.”

Only then did the students gradually disperse, making way for him. Seeing Zhenzhen standing in the front row, smiling at him like a fool, Wangwo couldn’t help but laugh. He waved her over. “Zhenzhen, are you waiting for your teacher to personally invite you?”

At once, more than a hundred pairs of eyes turned toward Zhenzhen, filled with envy. To be so familiar with the top literary figure in the country clearly meant she was destined to be a future star. The journalism girls were immediately surrounded, and everyone was asking what Zhenzhen’s name was.

Zhenzhen held onto Wangwo’s arm as the two of them chatted quietly on their way out of the classroom. Once they were out of sight, Wangwo asked with mild reproach, “Where were you this past year? You didn’t contact any of us—we were worried sick looking for you.”

Zhenzhen stuck out her tongue, a little embarrassed. “I was at home reviewing. How else could I have gotten into Imperial Capital University?”

Wangwo chuckled softly. As he looked at the budding willows by the lakeside, he said, “Actually, we were looking for you partly because we were worried about your safety, and partly because we wanted to visit your home. If it weren’t for you and your family, I’m afraid us old folks would’ve long turned into ashes.”

Zhenzhen had already prepared an explanation for this matter. She once again brought up Li Muwen as her shield. After all, with Li Muwen’s current position, others wouldn’t dare casually inquire about him.

Supporting Wangwo as he sat down on a bench by the lake, Zhenzhen spoke with a bit of guilt, “Teacher, actually, I lied back then. It wasn’t my father who supported me in saving you all—it was my uncle. I didn’t want to explain too much at the time, so I conveniently used my father as an excuse. If you check my student file, you’ll see that my father is just an ordinary worker in Heilong Province. He wouldn’t have had the power to save you.”

She pinched her nose and continued, “My uncle holds a relatively high position in the military and currently lives in Courtyard No. 1.”

Hearing that, Wangwo immediately hesitated. None of them were keen on getting involved with government officials.

Zhenzhen took the opportunity to add, “My uncle helped back then only because he couldn’t stand seeing you all being wronged. He never intended for you to thank him. When you left the mountains back then, he specifically told me to treat it as if it never happened and to never bring it up again. Even if you thank him, he won’t admit to having done anything.”

Wangwo nodded. “I understand your uncle’s intentions. I’ll pass the message on to Su Weiran and the others.”

Seeing that, Zhenzhen let out a breath of relief and couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly, I’m the lucky one. From a young age, I had you literary masters as my teachers. That’s a fortune not many people get.”

Looking at Zhenzhen’s smug expression, Wangwo teased her with a laugh, “You really are lucky. Xu Mengguo is also a professor here. Besides teaching the history majors, he also lectures on historical literary appraisal for the classical literature students. Knowing his personality, I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up with a second or even third major soon.”