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Wang Hao was so bored and didn’t want to look rude playing with his phone in front of Chen Suhua, so he sneakily amused himself by playing with Da Hua a couple of times.

When the episode finally ended, Chen Suhua was still savoring the previous episode’s plot and didn’t use the remote to fast-forward, letting the ending song play loudly on the TV.

Jiang Feng could tell Wang Hao was getting a bit anxious and even a bit panicky. That’s how it is when you’re asking for a favor; everything seems fine until you’re sitting on the sofa in someone else’s living room and the person you came to see hasn’t appeared yet, and the longer you wait, the more your inner unease grows exponentially.

“Mrs. Chen, which senior is the professor seeing? Maybe Wang Hao and I know him,” Jiang Feng asked.

Chen Suhua laughed and said, “It’s one of his former doctoral students. He graduated several years ago and comes to visit him every year as the New Year approaches.”

Then, noticing on the wall clock that Jiang Feng and the others had indeed been waiting for quite some time, Chen Suhua stood up and said, “Let me go remind him. By the way, Feng, when are you heading back?”

“We have our last day of business tomorrow, our annual meeting the day after tomorrow, and then we head back the day after that,” Jiang Feng replied.

“You’re leaving so soon?” Chen Suhua seemed a bit disappointed, “I heard from your grandmother that you won’t be back until after the Lantern Festival. Without Mrs. Jiang, our mahjong table feels incomplete even if we manage to gather.”

Jiang Feng: …

Unexpectedly, Mrs. Jiang had become such an important figure in the mahjong room without him realizing it.

Chen Suhua hurried to the inner room while Wang Hao, at this critical moment, started to show signs of cold feet: “Feng, it seems Professor Li usually doesn’t mentor graduates, right?”

“It’s true I’ve never heard of Professor Li mentoring graduates before. What about it?” Jiang Feng inquired.

“About that…”

“The cherries Mrs. Chen has are already taken; you can’t take them back,” Jiang Feng cut off Wang Hao’s escape route with a single sentence.

Just as Wang Hao was about to voice his dread of the respected professor who had failed him before, Professor Li and his party came out.

Professor Li’s student was a middle-aged man who looked to be in his forties or fifties, wearing metal-framed glasses and looking quite scholarly. His hair was somewhat thinner compared to Jiang Feng’s, graying at the temples, yet he had a youthful face; one could tell at a glance that he was an academic authority.

“Teacher, I’ll bring her over to see you during the New Year,” the academic authority said to Professor Li.

“Yes, don’t tell her about those things. So many years have passed, even if you were to tell her now, you wouldn’t be able to change anything,” Professor Li advised.

“I understand,” the authority nodded, then turned to see Jiang Feng and Wang Hao and gave them a nod and a smile before leaving.

Chen Suhua helped Professor Li see off his visitor.

Professor Li walked over to Jiang Feng and Wang Hao. Since it was winter and the house was warmed by a heating system, Professor Li was just wearing a very thin cashmere sweater and warmly said, “Feng has been waiting for quite some time, huh? And Wang Hao too, if I recall correctly. Have you passed the Signals and Systems makeup exam? I wasn’t the one grading the papers.”

“Passed, passed. Professor Li, ever since I failed Signals and Systems, I’ve been studying like there’s no tomorrow. I hung out in your lectures, and at home, I burned the midnight oil every day, never taking a break from problem sets. I kept reminding myself never to repeat the same mistakes, to study hard, and become a better person. The sea of learning is boundless, but I turned back… And I even put up these words in front of my desk!” Wang Hao proclaimed as if he were swearing an oath under the national flag, only missing raising his right fist to his ear.

“Really? But why have I heard that you also failed Optical Information Processing?” said Professor Li with a smile as he exposed Wang Hao’s lies.

Wang Hao: …

Jiang Feng: Pfft.

“It was an accident, just an accident,” Wang Hao could only force a laugh.

“All right, Feng has already told me about your thesis issue through WeChat; it’s really not a big deal and easy to fix. I’m roughly aware of your level. The checks have been strict these past two years; indeed, it would be difficult to finish your thesis on your own. I’ve heard from Feng that you’re now working as a copywriter at an advertising agency. Everyone has their path; not every student I’ve taught has followed a path in physics,” Professor Li stopped teasing Wang Hao and got straight to the point.

“So this is what we’ll do; start writing, at least I believe you should have settled on a topic. For anything you don’t understand, ask Feng if it’s simple. If he can’t solve it, then come find me. For experimental data, I suggest you try to do it yourself first. If you can’t manage, it’s fine; I still have some backup data here. Having ability or not isn’t so significant, but having the right attitude is essential. Otherwise, no one will be able to help you when it’s time for the defense,” Professor Li said.

“Thank you so much, Professor!” Wang Hao almost burst into tears of gratitude.

“Now that you’re working outside, it’s different from being at the university. In school, if you fail a final exam, there are makeups, and if you don’t pass the makeup, you can retake the course. But at work, mistakes are much harder to rectify. You and Feng are good kids. Do well, and remember, if you have time, come visit me during the New Year,” Professor Li cheerfully said.

“Feng, I have some things I want to discuss with you alone.”

Wang Hao, ever perceptive, immediately made himself scarce, “Then Professor Li, I’ll be taking my leave now. I’ll come over to see you again after the New Year.”

As Wang Hao was leaving, he just so happened to run into Chen Suhua who had sent off the guests and was chatting with them. Chen Suhua found it odd that Wang Hao was leaving now.

“Wang, you’re leaving so soon? Where’s Feng?” Chen Suhua asked.

“The teacher and Feng… Jiang Feng went to the study to talk. I don’t have anything else here, so I’m leaving early,” Wang Hao explained.

“Alright then, take care on your way home, Wang. Drop by when you have time,” Chen Suhua said before sitting back down, basking in the warmth of a space heater while watching a TV drama.

On the other side, Jiang Feng followed Professor Li into the study.

Jiang Feng, who often visited the Li Mansion, usually only frequented the living room, kitchen, and pigsty, so this was his first time in the study, prompting him to take a longer look around.

The study was spacious but sparsely decorated, which made it appear rather empty. There were two bookshelves in the room, each only five tiers high and completely filled with books, which were neatly and satisfyingly arranged. Jiang Feng glanced over and immediately saw a row of academic journals mixed with a few novels.

On the window sill sat a pot of spider plants and a few pots of ordinary flowers, all lush and green, no doubt attended to daily.

The desk appeared old, with a design reminiscent of one Jiang Feng had seen a couple of years ago when visiting the Presidential Palace. The desk was cluttered with few items: a fountain pen, several sheets of scratch paper with writing on them, and two foreign language books. Curiously, the tea cup wasn’t on the desk but instead was on the chair.

Professor Li approached the desk, first picking up the tea cup from the chair and placing it back on the desk, then opened a drawer and retrieved a thick stack of letters, handing them to Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng, somewhat bemused, accepted the letters. Each was enclosed in an envelope, which seemed quite old-fashioned with a thick red line in the center, exuding a sense of antiquity.

The envelopes were yellowed with age and speckled with numerous spots, undoubtedly from years gone by. They were unstamped, unsigned, and lacked any sender’s address, appearing as if they were new.

“What are these?” Jiang Feng, treating these envelopes that could be older than himself with great care, cautiously opened one to reveal similarly aged letter paper inside.

“These are letters that my mother wrote to your great-grandfather while she was in America but never sent,” Professor Li said. “I read the latest issue of ‘Taste.’ It was only after reading it that I learned my father had spoken so much with you before he passed. And it was also after reading that issue that I discovered that these letters my mother left behind all contained recipes.”

Seeing Jiang Feng looking astonished, Professor Li quickly explained, “These letters were treasured by my father in his lifetime, so much so that even I, as his son, wasn’t allowed to touch them. As time passed, I forgot about them and never opened them to see what was written inside.”

“After reading ‘Taste,’ I sorted through my father’s possessions that I brought from Alan City and arranged these letters. There are 37 in total, and I’ve read them all. They were all written by my mother for your great-grandfather, and they are all recipes.”

“These letters are of no use to me. The Li Hongzhang hodgepodge was a recipe dictated by my father to you, wasn’t it? I know it might be difficult if you just read the letters, but they should still be somewhat useful. There are only 37 now. Take these with you and study them carefully, and I’ll look for the rest during the New Year.”

With the 37 letters in hand, Jiang Feng felt their weight was worth its weight in gold and didn’t know what to say.

Thirty-seven letters, thirty-seven yellowed envelopes without signatures or addresses, thirty-seven expressions of longing that never crossed the ocean.

The so-called Li Hongzhang hodgepodge that Mister Li Mingyi had supposedly dictated to him was nothing more than a ruse to explain the origin of the dish, bluntly put, a lie. It was just that this lie had been turned into a story by Xu Cheng and published in the magazine.

No one had ever inquired about the origin of the dish—not even Sir or Jiang Jiankang. Jiang Feng hadn’t expected that Professor Li, simply because of an article in ‘Taste,’ would sort through all the possessions of Li Mingyi and Jiang Huiqin to find these 37 letters.

“Sir, these are your aunt’s belongings; you should keep them,” Jiang Feng felt if he didn’t address him as “Sir” now when he was still calling him “Professor,” it would be too formal, “These letters contain not only recipes but also some events that your aunt wrote about happening in America. They are too precious and very important to you. Even if you gave me the recipes, I might not be able to cook the dishes correctly. I’m clumsy and could damage them…”

“Even if they are damaged, it doesn’t matter; they are so old they are prone to damage anyway,” Professor Li placed his hand heavily on the letters, “These letters were written by my mother with the intent of telling your great-grandfather the recipes. Though they never reached your great-grandfather, now that they have come into your possession, it can be seen as a return to their rightful owner.”

“You are a good kid, filial, diligent, focused, and hardworking. Your Grandma Chen is clumsy and likes to clean, and who knows, she might damage these letters someday. Even if you don’t need them now, you might in the future. Consider it a precaution on my part to entrust them to you now lest I forget later.”

“Ding.”

The system suddenly sprung to life, startling Jiang Feng.

Jiang Feng could guess that the system had probably issued a side task or a hidden mission related to the 37 letters.

“Thank you, Sir. I will try my best to recreate the recipes from these letters,” Jiang Feng said resolutely.

Professor Li smiled, a smile of pure contentment, “Don’t feel pressured. Take your time, and when you recreate them, remember to call your Sir over to try them.”