Chapter 117: Love Hard to Put into Words

Zhou Hao stood at her doorstep, holding his bag and dressed in casual clothes.

“Are you heading out?” Chen Xin invited him inside and casually asked if he had eaten breakfast, then set an extra bowl and chopsticks for him to join her.

“I’m on leave and planning to go home for a while; my train leaves at ten-thirty this morning.” Zhou Hao hesitated for a long moment but didn’t manage to voice his invitation to Chen Xin.

He wasn’t sure if she would agree to go home with him. After all, he had never clearly expressed his feelings for her. Suddenly inviting her to meet his parents was a bold move—most people wouldn’t agree to that. Their leaves were irregular, and if he missed this chance, it might be another year before they could meet again, or only when his parents visited. Moreover, he’d heard from Song Yi yesterday that someone had been persistently chasing Chen Xin, even coming to her workplace. If he hesitated any longer, his beloved might slip away to someone else.

Zhou Hao was usually decisive, but when it came to matters of the heart, he couldn’t help but feel torn. Chen Xin had once said she was easygoing, yet sometimes she considered things more thoroughly than anyone else. But if she was sensitive, then her attitude toward him was as indifferent as toward Yi Bai. Did she agree or not? He wanted to bang his fist against the wall!

This time, Chen Xin really didn’t catch Zhou Hao’s thoughts. She thought he’d just stopped by to say goodbye so she wouldn’t lose track of him. She instinctively overlooked the possibility that he had other intentions.

“Perfect timing. I was actually going to tell you in a few days,” Chen Xin said, setting down Zhang Zhang after breakfast and letting him wash his hands and wipe his mouth on his own. “I’m leaving next week for about half a month to attend classes at Jin University. There’s a difficult project I’m working on, and there’s no literature here at C University to refer to. I want to check out Jin University. If things go smoothly, half a month should be enough; otherwise, I might have to stay until the new semester starts.”

The possibility of staying until the new semester was what senior Han mentioned. He said the teacher’s workload was heavy, and only he and Chen Xin were available to work on it. If the government wanted to finalize the draft before October, either they had to give up subsequent tasks and only complete the current work, or both of them would have to work overtime to finish a whole team’s workload.

Neither Chen Xin nor senior Han were the type to give up easily. This was a rare opportunity that they might never get again.

Zhou Hao felt his heart stir again. Jin University was just over two hours from his home by car; maybe he could find a way to invite Chen Xin over. As for her saying she had no time, he instinctively thought she might be exaggerating—how could she have no time even to rest? She was just a first-year graduate student who hadn’t even started school yet. Her advisor wouldn’t be squeezing her this hard already.

After they accompanied Zhang Zhang to school, it was almost time for Zhou Hao to rush to the train station, and Chen Xin needed to return to continue translating her manuscript.

“Call me when you get to Jin University. My home isn’t far from there; maybe I can come see you,” Zhou Hao said.

“Okay. If I have time, I’ll ask you to show me around the area,” Chen Xin replied with interest. She loved food and travel. The city where Jin University was located had already become bustling by the time she last visited. She wondered if she could still find some authentic architecture and local delicacies now.

After seeing Zhou Hao off, Chen Xin hesitated for a moment, then didn’t go to the shop but headed to the small building behind it to continue her translation work.

She used to stay at the shop for convenience—she could just ask for food or drinks and someone would bring them over. But after the incident yesterday, she felt she couldn’t keep working there. Staying might invite more trouble. Her small courtyard home faced a busy street with heavy traffic and many passersby, making it unsuitable for quiet work. The small building, however, was spacious, brightly lit, and especially quiet. Besides, she had promised to arrange a room for Bai Mengqing and had to go over to prepare it in advance; it wouldn’t do to wait until Bai Mengqing arrived to clean.

The cleaner for the small building was the mother of a waitress from the shop. They were a single-parent family; the daughter had graduated high school without continuing her studies and went to work to help pay off debts. Her father had been seriously ill for over a year, which drained all their savings and left them owing over a hundred thousand yuan. The daughter had been a decent student, but under heavy pressure and burden, she didn’t get into a good university. She refused to attend a third-rate, high-tuition school and instead chose to work and take self-study exams.

Chen Xin knew of their difficulties and had entrusted both her own housework and Cheng Jie’s household chores to the mother. So far, both mother and daughter were honest and meticulous in their work.

“Xiao Xin, I washed the bed linens and hung them on the third-floor terrace. Remember to take them down before you leave tonight. I’m going to Cheng’s house to cook lunch now,” the mother said.

Cheng Jie’s maid had accidentally cut her hand a few days ago and was resting at home, so the cooking was temporarily assigned to the waitress’s mother, paid daily. She rushed over at noon to cook, cleaned in the afternoon, prepared dinner, then left. She didn’t have time to work anywhere else, but Cheng Jie paid well. Grateful for how both families had cared for her and her daughter, she agreed without hesitation.

“You know, Aunt Liao, I think you’re pretty good at cooking. Why don’t you become a part-time cook? It beats cleaning,” Chen Xin said earnestly.

She didn’t look down on cleaning—it wasn’t a skilled job, and anyone willing to work hard could do it. But part-time cooking required skill, was less tiring, and paid better.

“I’ll think about it,” Aunt Liao replied quietly. She preferred cleaning; she could just work diligently and get paid. Being a cook meant dealing with picky employers and sometimes taking a lot of grief.

“I’m just saying,” Chen Xin smiled, though she had been planning this for a while. She didn’t want to tell Aunt Liao outright to stop working elsewhere and come help her with the children—that would sound like coercion. But in terms of trust, she definitely trusted Aunt Liao. With her around, Chen Xin wouldn’t have to worry about Bai Mengqing and Zhang Zhang’s daily lives.

That evening, when Aunt Liao returned home, her daughter had already cooked dinner.

“Your boss asked me today if I wanted to be a part-time housekeeper. What do you think?” Aunt Liao asked during their meal.

It was customary for her to share daily work and experiences with her daughter; it was their way of communicating and relaxing.

“That sounds great. Cleaning is too hard, and your back has been hurting lately, right? Cleaning always means bending over to wipe floors and wash things. Part-time housekeeping still involves cleaning but is less troublesome and mainly cooking. Your cooking might not be fancy enough for big meals, but your home cooking is excellent. Dad always loved your food when he was alive,” her daughter said.

“That’s because your dad wasn’t picky,” Aunt Liao smiled shyly at her daughter.