In the evening, Jiang Yuxin was a bit moody. Fortunately, Jiang Cheng came home early and volunteered to take her to her tutoring class. Lu Jiaping coaxed their younger son, Jiang Yuchen, to draw while she sat nearby chatting with a few other mothers about this term’s grades.
Shixun’s Mom: “Shixun’s math just can’t be improved no matter how much he studies. I’m really worried. By the way, with the transition to middle school this year, have you all looked into the junior high schools our elementary school is linked to? Several sixth-grade moms have complained to me, saying the computer-based school assignment system is terrible. If the child gets assigned to an average junior high, their future is ruined!”
Yilin’s Mom: “Yes, I’m worried about that too. Your Shixun is fine—when it’s time for interviews at prestigious schools, he’ll definitely pass. It’s my Yilin I’m concerned about; her grades aren’t good.”
Shixun’s Mom: “Not at all! Actually, Yuxin’s mom doesn’t have to worry. Yuxin has been a district-level ‘Three Good Student’ for three years in a row. I’m really envious.”
Lu Jiaping’s hand holding the phone trembled slightly, and her expression darkened. She hadn’t been worried about Yuxin’s previous grades and performance, but now things were different. Since starting fifth grade, Yuxin’s results had been declining one after another. This time, it was just a unit test, but if her midterm and final exams turned out like this, by sixth grade, wouldn’t she have no chance at prestigious schools?
Looking back at the group chat, the mothers had already started discussing tuition fees for private junior highs. Private junior highs were beyond the means of families like Lu Jiaping’s, so the only option was to ensure Yuxin’s grades were impeccable.
That night, after both children had fallen asleep, Lu Jiaping wearily tidied up the bathroom and climbed into bed. She didn’t feel like sleeping or scrolling through her phone, so she nudged Jiang Cheng.
“I plan to enroll Yuxin in a composition class for practice. Her teacher mentioned it to me last year—her essays are very inconsistent, and she even has trouble understanding the prompts. I was too careless.”
Jiang Cheng disagreed. “Yuxin already has too many tutoring classes. She’s only eleven; isn’t this too exhausting? Chinese, math, English, plus painting, dance, and basketball classes—either in-person or online. She has no time for herself. I think it’s fine for an elementary school student to take interest-based classes, but academic subjects should be learned at school. There’s really no need to enroll her in all these extra classes.”
“What do you mean ‘no need,’ Jiang Cheng? You don’t usually handle these matters, so you have no idea about the current situation. Yuxin will graduate in just over a year. Every year, top junior highs have internal information and early admissions. Before, when Yuxin’s grades were good and she was both class monitor and Young Pioneer captain, I wasn’t worried. But look at her now! If she doesn’t get into a good junior high tomorrow, she won’t even make it to college entrance exams!”
Jiang Cheng took a deep breath. “Don’t all kids go through this? You’re putting too much pressure on everyone.”
Lu Jiaping bristled. “What pressure, Jiang Cheng? Wealthy families just send their kids to private junior and senior highs—they don’t have any academic pressure. Our family has nothing, so we can only focus on these small things. If you can’t help, fine, but don’t make sarcastic comments!”
“Lu Jiaping, don’t be so unreasonable. I’m doing this for Yuxin’s sake too—she’s only eleven!” After a long day at work, Jiang Cheng was genuinely tired, and his temper flared.
“You’re being unreasonable, Jiang Cheng. Touch your conscience and tell me, how much have I given for this family? Every big and small matter in the house—which one isn’t handled by me? What have you done besides going to work? What right do you have to criticize me?”
Lu Jiaping felt a pain in her chest. She was holding back her grievances and tears.
Her child was disobedient, and her husband didn’t understand her either. Was her life just about enduring grievances and frustration?
Jiang Cheng didn’t want to argue with her. He got up and went to sleep in Jiang Yuchen’s room. “Do whatever you want. I won’t interfere—when have you ever let me? From now on, don’t discuss these things with me.”
Lu Jiaping cried for most of the night, feeling that life was too hard to bear, yet she had no choice but to endure it.
Ding Yawen was out covering a story until midnight. Sitting in the car, she wrote her news report while rushing back to the station. Her WeChat kept buzzing. She picked up her phone and swiped through the messages—all of them were complaints from Lu Jiaping about her husband and child.
She didn’t have time to reply. Ding Yawen simply muted her phone and continued writing.
Looking back at the computer screen, Ding Yawen felt a bit dizzy. She rubbed her eyes and forced herself to keep going. By the time she finished the report, it was almost time for broadcast, and she hadn’t even prepared the voiceover yet.
Her assistant, Huahua, carefully handed over her notebook. “Sister Ding, I’ve drafted some materials. Would you take a look…”
Ding Yawen didn’t even look up. “Leave it there.”
Huahua didn’t dare say more, just watched Ding Yawen typing with admiration, thinking that one day she too would become someone as outstanding as Sister Ding.
When they arrived at the station, Ding Yawen ran upstairs, organizing her notes even in the elevator.
Once everything was settled, the sky was beginning to brighten. Several people in the office were congratulating each other.
“We got the scoop again! That’s amazing, Sister Ding—it’s all thanks to you!”
“Exactly! Who do you think Sister Ding is? She’s the number one at our station. Is there any story Sister Ding can’t get? You all should learn from her. Don’t forget, she just got back from a business trip yesterday afternoon!”
Their chattering praises didn’t faze Ding Yawen. She just frowned slightly, looking at the messages on her phone. As a journalist, she had her own sources—sources that were shared among colleagues, nothing particularly special. But her keen sense of news was both innate and cultivated over time.
Ding Yawen had honed her skills for twelve years and was the undisputed chief reporter at the station.
Besides her sources, there were other messages. Yet another one urging her to get married and have children. Her mother, getting older and waking up early, would send messages every few days asking when she planned to marry.
Marriage? When would she have time for that? She was as busy as a spinning top every day.
Ding Yawen picked up her laptop bag. She had been on a business trip for a week and had rushed straight into covering a story as soon as she returned, without even going home. Huang Jianhui should be at work today.
Just as she reached the door, it opened, and Director Liu walked in, calling out to Ding Yawen. “Yawen, about to leave? Come to my office. Let’s talk.”
Without hesitation, Ding Yawen put down her bag and followed Director Liu into his office, feeling a flicker of excitement. She had previously hinted to Director Liu about wanting to transition into a new role. She had worked under him for twelve years, and their relationship was both mentor-student and friendship. She believed Director Liu understood her better than anyone and would grasp her intentions.
Director Liu motioned for Ding Yawen to sit and poured her a cup of tea. “For your health, you know. Heh, I get you.”
Ding Yawen replied with a smiling nod: “Being a journalist with such irregular hours is exhausting. If I didn’t take care of myself, my face would have aged beyond recognition long ago.”
Director Liu looked Ding Yawen over. At thirty-three, she had long shed the youthful naivety of her earlier years, now carrying a mature charm. He hadn’t misjudged her—Ding Yawen was the most outstanding and hardworking person he had ever mentored.