Wen Ying shifted her gaze from Aunt Wu, staring blankly at Chen Ru.
Chen Ru tugged at her sleeve and whispered, “When Aunt Wu asks if you like Shanghai and want to study here, say you do! Show her the excitement you had when we got off the plane, got it?”
Wen Ying’s eyelids twitched, sensing the purpose of tonight’s dinner.
As Wu Chunqin approached, Chen Ru forced a gentle smile, “This is Mummy’s classmate. Call her Aunt Wu.”
Normally, Wen Ying seemed quick-witted, but if she embarrassed Chen Ru now, Chen Ru would be mortified.
Chen Ru’s rare gentle tone snapped Wen Ying back to reality, and she obediently called, “Aunt Wu.”
Money does wonders for a woman’s upkeep. Aunt Wu in 2005 looked little different from Aunt Wu in 2014.
Wen Ying knew her rebirth had changed many things. Meeting Xie Qian early and becoming friends was one thing, so meeting Aunt Wu nine years ahead of schedule wasn’t surprising.
She just hadn’t expected Aunt Wu to be her mum’s old classmate.
The overlap of time and space left Wen Ying disoriented.
Her heart felt struck by something blunt—not painful, but an indescribable ache.
Wu Chunqin sized up Wen Ying. The girl stood tall with open shoulders, making a good first impression.
Chen Ru had spent half her life in a small town, likely pouring effort into raising her child. Early or late marriage was a personal choice, but one should excel in it. The worst was to fail at both career and family, muddling through to middle age, where frustration could lead to despair.
“Get in the car. I’m taking you two for dinner,” Wu Chunqin said, linking arms with Chen Ru and settling them in the back seat while she took the front passenger seat.
Wu Chunqin owned a car but had taken a taxi today.
She wasn’t here to show off to her old friend. Taxis in Shanghai were convenient, and not driving meant she could share a drink with Chen Ru.
Along the way, Wu Chunqin was warm, asking Wen Ying about everything from the New Concept Essay Competition to her usual grades.
When Wen Ying mentioned her school, Wu Chunqin showered her with praise, “Xiao Ying is doing better than we did back then. That’s a great school.”
Chengdu’s provincial key high school was renowned in the southwest. Wu Chunqin had heard about it from Chen Ru yesterday and asked Wen Ying again to see how she’d respond.
Instead of boasting about the school’s admission rates, Wen Ying spoke of its teaching ethos, encouraging innovation and social practice, from supporting students’ summer ‘entrepreneurship’ to hosting various activities that fostered growth.
By the time they reached the restaurant Wu Chunqin had chosen, any initial awkwardness between her and Wen Ying had vanished.
In that short time, Wu Chunqin’s fondness for Wen Ying grew.
For some reason, Wen Ying’s speech and thinking hit all her soft spots.
This girl seemed to know her well.
Wu Chunqin didn’t consider “rebirth” but chalked it up to fate.
Back in their dorm days, among eight roommates, she and Chen Ru were closest.
Though they hadn’t met in years, their old bond remained, and Wu Chunqin liked Chen Ru’s daughter too.
Over dinner, Wu Chunqin avoided serious topics. Only when the meal was nearly done did she ask Wen Ying, “You’re in the New Concept Essay Competition. Do you have a dream university in mind? Want to study in Shanghai?”
As expected, Wu Chunqin asked about studying in Shanghai.
Recalling Chen Ru’s earlier instructions and Wu Chunqin’s background, Wen Ying guessed her mum’s plan.
Her mum wanted to use Wu Chunqin’s connections to leverage the competition and get her into Wu’s husband’s university.
Chen Ru hadn’t spelled it out, unaware that Wen Ying knew Wu Chunqin and her family background.
Understanding her mum’s intentions, Wen Ying didn’t want Wu Chunqin to misunderstand.
Under Chen Ru’s expectant gaze, Wen Ying shook her head, “Aunt Wu, the New Concept Essay Competition is just a hobby. I won’t pin my future on one contest. It’s not closely tied to which university I’ll attend. I’m only in my first year of high school, with two and a half years to work hard. I like Shanghai, but I can’t say yet if I’ll study here.”
Lowered admission scores were just an excuse to get Chen Ru’s approval.
Wen Ying wasn’t keen on using the competition to get into a top university via score reductions.
Most universities offering lowered scores for first-prize winners funneled them into Chinese literature programs.
Wen Ying wasn’t against studying Chinese literature. In her past life, she’d dreamed of it, but Chen Ru and Wen Dongrong had opposed it.
Back then, she thought studying Chinese would make her a writer. Now, she knew better—writing didn’t depend on her major.
Writing stemmed from an inner urge to express, not a degree. A true writer could pick up a pen anytime, regardless of age, job, or circumstances.
Wu Chunqin glanced at Wen Ying, then at Chen Ru, momentarily silent.
Had Chen Ru discussed this with her daughter?
Probably not.
Parents often kept such maneuvers from their kids.
Yet Wen Ying’s words suggested she understood the dinner’s purpose.
—Was her offer to help being rejected?
Chen Ru grew anxious, itching to kick Wen Ying under the table but fearing Wu Chunqin would notice. She forced a smile, glaring at Wen Ying, “Why turn down a score reduction? It’s a reward you’ve earned.”
“It depends if I like the school and major. I can’t just go for a score reduction and study somewhere I don’t like. It’s a safety net, not my first choice… assuming I even win first prize,” Wen Ying said honestly.
Chen Ru was furious.
Like or dislike?
Chen Ru doubted Wen Ying could get into Wu Chunqin’s husband’s university on her own merit.
Forget liking or disliking—she shouldn’t be picky when offered a score reduction!
What use was liking something?
When job hunting after graduation, employers cared about the prestige of your university, not your hobbies.
Chen Ru’s smile faltered. She regretted not explaining the dinner’s purpose to Wen Ying beforehand.
Swallowing her pride to ask for a favour, only for her daughter to ruin it.
The mother-daughter tension was palpable, but Wu Chunqin smoothed things over with a smile, “Your girl’s got ambition. We adults are overcomplicating a simple matter.”
She reassured Chen Ru, then turned to Wen Ying, “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? Let me be frank: you have a chance to get into a top university now. If you don’t take it, someone else will. Ambition is great, but if your college entrance exam scores fall short, you might regret this.”
Wu Chunqin respected Wen Ying’s choice.
Even with her husband’s university connections, pulling this off required calling in favours. It wasn’t as simple as snapping her fingers to secure Wen Ying a first prize or guaranteeing admission even if she won—Wen Ying still needed to meet basic criteria for Wu Chunqin to prioritize her admission.
After meeting Chen Ru yesterday, Wu Chunqin had discussed it with her husband.
He hadn’t outright refused but wanted to know more about the child.
If Wen Ying was decent and stood out among peers, helping her was fine.
If she was reckless and banking on shortcuts, they’d need to think twice.
Given Chen Ru and her husband’s current status, Wu Chunqin’s help was purely out of old friendship, not expecting repayment.
In terms of social status, career achievements, and income, they were no longer in the same league. Chen Ru couldn’t reciprocate.
Meeting today, Wu Chunqin saw Chen Ru had raised her daughter well. Despite growing up in a small southwestern city, Wen Ying was confident, poised, and not at all provincial—a child worth helping to reach greater heights.
Yet Wen Ying rejected her offer.
Wu Chunqin wasn’t upset; she was even a bit pleased.
Ambition in a young person was a good thing.
Wen Ying reminded her of a young Chen Ru, who also wouldn’t easily accept help.
The difference was Chen Ru had been prickly, never humbling herself to ask for favours, while Wen Ying, though ambitious, wasn’t as standoffish. She declined politely, without offending.
Wu Chunqin didn’t like young people without drive.
But Wen Ying was so young, untouched by society’s harsh lessons, unaware of how a strong starting point could shape a life.
Wu Chunqin had left her university job to start a business because academia wasn’t her path.
Despite advancing her education post-work, earning a master’s and doctorate, and moving from a factory to a university, the gap from her initial qualifications persisted.
Barriers existed—intangible but real.
Those years in the factory were a waste of her prime.
Staying in academia, she’d never break into the core circle or be the best, which her pride couldn’t accept.
Now a successful businesswoman in others’ eyes, Wu Chunqin still had regrets.
If she’d foreseen today’s challenges in high school and worked harder, she could’ve attended a four-year university.
She could’ve pursued graduate studies during school.
She wouldn’t have wasted those precious years.
She wouldn’t have lagged behind.
Wu Chunqin sighed, “That kind of regret might not hit after the college entrance exam or even graduation, but later… Xiao Ying, think carefully.”
Her words silenced both Wen Ying and Chen Ru.
Wen Ying’s silence came from recalling her past life.
After refusing to return home for a civil service exam and choosing to grind in Shanghai, she’d struggled, collapsed emotionally, but never regretted it.
Chen Ru, however, felt as if plunged into cold water.
Wasn’t Wu Chunqin describing her?
That regret didn’t come after the college entrance exam or graduation—it was now.
