Yan Zhao was genuinely stunned.
In her previous life, she had also lived in the village. Later, when the reform and opening-up began, the land was distributed from collective ownership to individual households, yet her life had remained unchanged.
She would go to the fields at dawn and return home at dusk. Money was still tight, and she remained tied to the stove and the courtyard.
The so-called changes had never truly reached her.
But the capital city was different.
The streets seemed to have suddenly lifted their lid. What was once condemned as speculation and profiteering in the village was now openly displayed by the roadside.
Those selling fabric scraps, food, or squatting on the ground with abacuses—each had lively expressions, their faces brimming with energy.
As Yan Zhao watched these people, her heart tightened repeatedly.
So it wasn’t that change was impossible.
It was just that she had never stood in a place where change could happen.
Yan Zhao couldn’t help but move closer to Gu Yu and asked in a very soft voice, “Aren’t they… afraid?”
Gu Yu turned his head to look at her, his tone calm. “Zhaozhao, what are you asking if they’re afraid of?”
“Afraid of being caught, afraid of being criticized,” she whispered. “Back in the village, people who secretly sold eggs would be called improper.”
After listening, Gu Yu simply said, “Times are different now, and so are the rules. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
Yan Zhao slowed her pace slightly and looked up at him.
Gu Yu wasn’t looking at the street but gazing ahead.
Sunlight slanted in from the street corner, falling on his profile and clearly illuminating his features.
His nose was straight, his jawline clean and sharp. Standing there, he appeared tall and steady.
Yan Zhao couldn’t find any eloquent words to say, only feeling that he was truly handsome—the kind of good looks that made it hard to look away at first glance.
She also noticed that she wasn’t the only one looking at him.
Many people passed by on the street. Several young women slowed their steps as they walked, their eyes lingering on Gu Yu before pretending to look away nonchalantly, only to glance back again moments later.
Some even huddled together, whispering softly while stealing glances in their direction.
Yan Zhao’s heart tightened slightly.
So it wasn’t just her imagination.
But Gu Yu truly stood out here.
Subconsciously, she moved half a step closer to him, a small gesture she didn’t even notice herself.
Yet Gu Yu seemed to sense it and slowed his pace slightly as well.
He had instinctively wanted to take her hand, but the thought had barely formed before he suppressed it.
He knew very well that public displays of affection would still be too sudden for her and might frighten her.
So he changed his approach, turning slightly closer to her and naturally guiding her to his side, letting her lean against his arm.
There was no overly intimate gesture between them.
No holding hands, no deliberate closeness.
Yet even at this distance, it was enough for others to see at a glance that their relationship was far from ordinary.
…
Gu Yu wasn’t in a hurry to take her to see the house. Instead, he strolled slowly along the nearby streets.
Stalls lined the roadside, selling all sorts of things, and the atmosphere was lively and bustling.
Gu Yu walked at a leisurely pace, as if deliberately slowing down to let her take in the sights.
When they reached a ready-made clothing shop, he suddenly paused, his tone tinged with regret. “You’re not wearing a dress today.”
The remark came unexpectedly.
Yan Zhao’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she lowered her head, murmuring a soft response.
She hadn’t worn either of those two dresses—not because she didn’t like them, but because she didn’t dare.
She had never worn clothes like that before, and she was afraid they wouldn’t look good on her, afraid that one glance in the mirror would reveal her unease.
Gu Yu seemed not to notice her hesitation and led her into the small shop next door, picking out hair clips and hair ties for her braids.
The colors were all bright and new.
Yan Zhao held those things in her hand, but her gaze slowly fell to her own fingers—
Her knuckles were rough, her fingertips calloused, and placed alongside these delicate little items, they looked especially out of place.
Her eyes unconsciously dimmed.
The next moment, Gu Yu placed several small jars of face cream and hand cream on the counter, paying for each one with decisive movements.
Yan Zhao was truly anxious now. She reached out and tugged his sleeve, her voice lowered. “Don’t buy anymore… Aren’t we still going to look at a house? Don’t waste money on me.”
Gu Yu stopped and looked down at her.
There was no impatience, no persuasion—just a shake of his head. “It’s not a waste.”
After saying this, he took the items and carried them in his hand.
Yan Zhao followed behind him, watching as each bill was handed over, her heart tightening with each one.
In just this short while, dozens had already been spent.
And almost all of it was spent on her.
Hair clips, hair ties, face cream, hand cream—none of them were particularly expensive on their own, but together, they added up to an amount she had never dared to imagine before.
Yan Zhao stood to the side, her fingers clenched so tightly they turned white. Her heart felt both sour and warm, a mix of gratitude and anxiety, but mostly fear.
In her past life, the most she ever had on her was five yuan.
And even that five yuan had to be split into several portions—carefully calculated for salt, carefully calculated for oil, even hesitating over a pair of worn-out cloth shoes.
But now, this money was being spent so easily.
And all for her.
Gu Yu noticed she hadn’t spoken much the whole way.
She kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the bags, her shoulders slightly tense, as if holding all her emotions inside.
That quietness wasn’t relaxation—it was caution.
Gu Yu sighed softly, slowing his pace and turning to look at her.
“Zhaozhao.” His voice was low and steady. “The money I earn is meant to be spent on you.”
Yan Zhao’s fingertips tightened, and she instinctively looked up at him.
Gu Yu wasn’t smiling, but his tone was more serious than ever before. “Back when you were in the countryside, I wasn’t by your side, so I could only send you money. No matter how much I sent, I never felt at ease, always worried you were saving it, enduring, reluctant to spend it.”
He paused here, his gaze falling on her pale knuckles. “Now it’s different. You’re by my side. If I don’t spend money on you, who should I spend it on?”
His words were calm, but they struck Yan Zhao’s heart all at once.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to say something but found she couldn’t form a single complete sentence.
So he had been sending her money all along because he wanted to spend it on her.
But she had given all that money to Gu Cheng.
Thank goodness…
Thank goodness she wasn’t that foolish in this life.
Seeing her eyes slightly redden, Gu Yu didn’t press her further. He just gently pulled her closer, steering her away from the crowd, his tone returning to normal. “Let’s go. We still have to look at the house.”
Yan Zhao nodded, softly replying, “Mm.”
…
The houses in the capital were nothing like what Yan Zhao had imagined.
The road surface was smooth cement, clean and free of any mud.
The street was wide, the courtyard walls neat and orderly, and the rows of houses looked uniform and imposing in an indescribable way.
As she walked, she looked around, unconsciously lightening her steps, afraid she might damage something.
The agent showed them several courtyards before finally stopping in front of a traditional quadrangle house.
When the gate was pushed open, Yan Zhao froze.
Inside, there was actually a small pond, its water so clear it shimmered, with a small pavilion standing beside it. The courtyard was paved with bluestone slabs, without a single weed in sight.
The wooden pillars under the eaves looked old but not worn, instead exuding an air of elegance.
The agent smiled as he introduced the place, saying it had once been the residence of an official, with excellent layout and feng shui.
Yan Zhao stood in the middle of the courtyard, unable to utter a word.
It was too beautiful, so beautiful it made her feel uneasy.
Then, when the agent quoted the price.
“Thirty thousand.”
As those two words fell, Yan Zhao’s vision went dark.
She instinctively clenched her hands, her fingertips turning cold.
What did thirty thousand mean? She didn’t know how to even begin to comprehend it.
All she knew was that in her previous life, she had heard the term “ten-thousand-yuan household,” and there was only one such person in the entire county, praised and celebrated during holidays.
But now, a house was being quoted at thirty thousand.
That wasn’t money.
It was an amount she had never seen in her entire life.
She didn’t even dare to look at Gu Yu, feeling her legs go weak, as if standing in this courtyard meant occupying a place she shouldn’t.
The agent was still talking, but Yan Zhao didn’t hear a word.
She just stood there, watching the water in the pond shimmer.
When Gu Yu led Yan Zhao into that courtyard, he had noticed her reaction from the very first glance.
She stood in the courtyard, her gaze fixed on the pond, the pavilion, and the bluestone slabs, her eyes shining brightly with an unmistakable, unconcealable fondness.
At the other houses they had seen earlier, she had at most listened quietly, nodding or shaking her head, never showing such an expression.
Gu Yu understood immediately.
She truly loved this place.
So when the agent said “thirty thousand,” he quickly ran the numbers in his mind.
The price was high, but not entirely unaffordable—it would just take time and planning.
He didn’t say yes, nor did he say no.
Instead, he naturally took Yan Zhao’s hand and led her away from the courtyard.
They looked at a few more houses afterward.
There were small courtyards and single-story houses, reasonably priced and in decent condition.
The agent spoke enthusiastically, but Yan Zhao remained quiet the entire time.
She listened politely, but the light in her eyes never returned.
Gu Yu, walking beside her, saw it all clearly.
Slowly, he began to understand.
After the agent finished showing them the last house and left, the street grew lively again, and Yan Zhao finally let out a soft sigh of relief, as if she had been holding her breath the whole time.
Gu Yu didn’t bring up the courtyard again.
In the end, they settled on a house very close to the school.
It was a tube-shaped apartment building, not very tall, with grayish-white walls. The hallway was bustling with people, and the toilets and water were located outside.
But its advantage was its proximity to the school—less than a ten-minute walk.
The agent introduced it honestly, saying it was originally built for teachers and staff, quiet and safe, though a bit small.
Still, it was much larger than a dormitory.
When the price was quoted—four thousand—Gu Yu barely hesitated.
He had calculated it clearly in his mind—this amount was exactly what he could afford right now. Buying it meant they could move in immediately, no more hassle with dormitories, and no more letting her be stared at by others.
But what he didn’t expect was that before he could even speak, Yan Zhao spoke first.
She stood very straight, her voice not loud but unwavering, asking the agent about the age of the house, whether the walls were damp, if the public faucets often broke, and even mentioning whether the household downstairs was noisy at night.
She listed each point clearly, her tone unhurried but her presence strong.
Her final sentence landed especially decisively: with these conditions, four thousand wasn’t appropriate.
The agent was visibly taken aback.
He hadn’t expected this seemingly timid woman to suddenly bargain with him, and her points were all spot-on.
Gu Yu stood to the side, not interrupting, just lowering his head with a faint smile.
This was the first time he had seen her so clearly like this.
In the end, worn down by her persistence, the agent gritted his teeth and relented: three thousand six hundred.
When the deal was settled, Yan Zhao’s eyes sparkled brightly, her smile impossible to suppress, as if she had stumbled upon the bargain of a lifetime.
Nodding, she followed Gu Yu out, her steps noticeably lighter, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of his shirt.
Seeing her like this, Gu Yu couldn’t help but ask, “So happy?”
His gaze rested on her face.
After walking for a while, her cheeks were slightly flushed with warmth, that small patch of skin looking fair and tender.
It was just that after prolonged exposure to wind and sun, her skin was a bit rough.
But he didn’t mind at all. Instead, an utterly inappropriate thought popped into his mind—
If he took a bite, would it be soft?
Yan Zhao had no idea what he was thinking. His question made her a little embarrassed, and she nodded gently.
She really was happy. After seeing courtyards priced at thirty thousand, coming back to this four-thousand house felt unrealistically cheap.
And it wasn’t just about the money—it was the reassurance of “having a place to live from now on.”
Seeing her like this, Gu Yu didn’t press further. He just reached out and gently patted the back of her hand. “We’ll stay here for now. We’ll move again later.”
Yan Zhao tilted her head in confusion. “We’re moving again?”
Gu Yu smiled. “Your husband is quite good at making money. Just wait until I graduate.”
Yan Zhao’s face flushed red again at the word “husband.”
…
The landlord clearly hadn’t expected this young couple to handle things so efficiently.
From negotiating the price to agreeing to buy, they hardly hesitated at all.
Only when following them through the paperwork did the landlord slowly realize and couldn’t help but glance at Gu Yu a few more times.
Upon learning he was a student at Peking University, the landlord immediately remarked that his demeanor was clearly different from ordinary people—he stood out even in a crowd.
Midway through the conversation, the landlord’s gaze shifted to Yan Zhao.
The young wife stood quietly beside him, saying little, but her eyes never left Gu Yu. She did seem a bit timid, but not without her own opinions.
Remembering the earlier bargaining, the landlord silently revised his impression and didn’t say anything more.
Perhaps also fearing complications, the landlord cooperated exceptionally well.
Weekends usually meant slower procedures, but Gu Yu had all the necessary documents ready, along with proof that could expedite the process. After visiting a few offices, everything went surprisingly smoothly.
By the afternoon, the house transfer was completed.
The moment the keys were handed to Gu Yu, Yan Zhao was thrilled.
Before leaving, the landlord turned back and placed a new electric kettle on the table, smiling cheerfully as he said it was to add some festive spirit and would come in handy during winter.
Yan Zhao quickly thanked him.
Once the door closed, the room suddenly fell silent.
The place wasn’t large, nor was it particularly new, but the windows were bright, the floor was clean, and even the air felt settled.
Yan Zhao stood in the middle of the room, almost afraid to move, as if any movement might shatter the reality of it all.
Gu Yu glanced at her and placed the keys in her palm.
“From now on, this is our place.”
Yan Zhao looked down at the keys in her hand, her fingers trembling slightly. Without warning, tears began to fall, one after another, unstoppable.
Gu Yu was clearly taken aback.
He had probably never seen her like this before.
No matter how much she had endured in the past, she had always kept her head down and borne it silently.
This time, Gu Yu panicked instead.
He quickly led her to sit on the only stool in the room, crouching down himself so his eyes were level with hers, his voice softening considerably.
“Zhaozhao, what’s wrong?”
Yan Zhao also felt that crying at a time like this was inauspicious. She hurriedly wiped her eyes with her hands, trying to force a smile.
“It’s nothing… I’m just… just happy.”
Gu Yu reached out, gently brushing away the tears she hadn’t managed to wipe clean with his thumb, his other hand supporting the back of her head.
He leaned in so close that she could clearly feel his breath.
Yan Zhao’s eyes widened instantly.
She seemed frozen in place, even forgetting to breathe. Her chest tightened, and the sound of her heartbeat thudded loudly in her ears.
Gu Yu had indeed intended to lean in closer.
To do something.
Like kiss her.
But in that moment, he saw how tense she had become at his closeness, looking utterly frightened.
Gu Yu sighed softly.
The sigh was light, as if he were forcibly holding something back.
He didn’t press further, only raising his hand to gently pat her cheek with his thumb, his voice low and tinged with helplessness.
“Breathe.”
Only then did Yan Zhao snap back to reality.
She immediately took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling noticeably. Her cheeks flushed crimson, and even the tips of her ears grew warm.
Gu Yu stood up and said he was going back to the school to fetch his things from the dormitory.
Yan Zhao instinctively shook her head, saying she wanted to go with him.
But Gu Yu didn’t agree, only murmuring that there wasn’t much to bring and he could manage it himself. He told her to stay and familiarize herself with the place, not to wander off, and to wait for him to return.
His tone wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for refusal.
Yan Zhao had no choice but to nod.
Once the door closed, the room fell silent once more.
She realized the room was actually quite spacious.
It was more than twice the size of the dormitory, with south-facing windows that let in plenty of light, and a whole row of cabinets built into the wall.
Yan Zhao stood in the middle of the room, turning around once, then again.
Her feet stepped on the smooth floor—no mud, no potholes.
She reached out to touch the wall, then the wooden boards of the cabinets.
Then she slowly sat back down on the stool, placing her hands on her knees as her heartbeat gradually steadied.
The earlier tension, panic, and fluster from Gu Yu’s closeness slowly subsided.
…
By the time Gu Yu returned to the school, his expression had completely darkened.
He first went to the admissions office, placed the keys in his hand on the table, and stated coldly and simply that he would no longer be using the laboratory or dormitory from that day onward.
The staff member clearly froze for a moment, wanting to say something, but Gu Yu had already turned and left.
Afterward, he went to find Teacher Wang and directly rejected the previous proposal.
There was no argument, no explanation—just an attitude so clear it bordered on coldness.
Teacher Wang watched his retreating figure, opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.
Later, he went to the principal’s office.
This time, Gu Yu made it very clear—
He was revoking the patent usage rights under his name.
If the school or anyone else continued to use his patents for project development without permission, he would directly pursue legal action, and if necessary, involve the public security bureau.
The principal’s expression shifted several times.
Gu Yu remained calm throughout, as if discussing the most ordinary matter.
Leaving the office building, he went straight back to his dormitory.
Books, materials, clothes—he packed them one by one into bags.
Not long after, the three people he had called arrived. Chen Li and the others were a bit stunned by the scene, but no one asked any questions, simply helping to pack up.
The dormitory was soon emptied.
Only the bed boards remained, along with the faint scent of old books lingering in the air.
Gu Yu stood there for a moment, holding his bags, his tone so calm it was almost indifferent: “I’ve already reclaimed all my patents. Go tell your teacher that I agree to transfer to his department.”
He paused, then added: “But I have only one condition.”
Hearing this, Chen Li practically jumped up, his voice rising several notches: “You’re willing to transfer? Really?!”
He was so excited he kept nodding, “Forget one condition, even ten would be fine! Just say the word!”
…
Meanwhile, at the Liu household.
Liu Manqing hadn’t gone to school for several days.
Not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t dare.
After that day, the atmosphere at the school had shifted dramatically.
People who used to flock around her now avoided her. When she appeared in the hallway, the looks directed at her were filled with barely concealed mockery, some even whispering right in front of her.
Whenever she came into view, it was as if she had become a joke.
Liu Manqing couldn’t stand it.
As soon as she got home, she threw things around, her eyes red as she cried and complained to her father, saying people at school were bullying her, that Gu Yu didn’t know what was good for him. She demanded her father expel him from the school and even take back that dormitory room, leaving him with nowhere to stay.
In her eyes, all of this was perfectly justified.
She had even mentally rehearsed what would come next.
Someone like Gu Yu cared most about his future and money.
Once he was backed into a corner with no way out, he would surely come crawling back to apologize, saying it was all his fault, that he shouldn’t have protected that country girl, that he had been foolish.
Then, she would slowly “forgive” him, making him understand what regret felt like.
She had even imagined how she would humiliate him, how she would make him bow his head in public. The more she thought about it, the more excited she became, and the anger in her heart finally eased a little.
But just then, there was movement at the door.
Her father had returned.
As soon as he entered, his expression was grim. Without even taking off his coat, he walked straight into the living room, his voice low but clearly agitated: “Manqing, come here.”
Liu Manqing’s heart leaped with joy, thinking the matter had already been settled. She immediately stood up: “Dad, have you already dealt with Gu Yu—”
Her father cut her off, saying: “Tomorrow, go find Gu Yu.”
Liu Manqing was taken aback, instinctively frowning: “Why should I find him? He’s the one who offended me—”
“Go apologize,” her father said, word by word.
The words struck like a muffled thunderclap.
Liu Manqing’s face instantly paled, her voice trembling as she asked, “Dad, what are you saying?”
Mr. Liu took a deep breath, as if forcibly suppressing surging emotions, his tone gradually growing heavier: “It’s not just an apology. You need to humble yourself, lower your posture as much as possible. Even if you have to kneel, as long as he’s willing to forgive you, you must do it.”
Liu Manqing shook her head almost reflexively, her voice urgent and sharp: “I won’t.”
As soon as the words fell—
“Slap!”
A crisp sound exploded in the living room.
Liu Manqing was struck so hard that her head snapped to the side, her cheek burning with pain, a ringing echoing in her ears.
She stood frozen in place, as if unable to process what had just happened.
From childhood to adulthood, she had been coddled by her family—never hit, not even scolded harshly.
But now, this slap had truly landed on her face.
Liu Manqing slowly raised her head, her eyes quickly reddening, filled with disbelief.