Chapter 3: Farewell to Grandma and Grandpa Again

About five miles from Xia Ruo’s home, in Lin Village, on a bitterly cold day, Lin Qianfan stood at the village entrance, steam rising from his head.

At this moment, his emotions were stirred and tinged with melancholy.

This place held his deepest attachments.

Since childhood, his parents had divorced and both had struggled far away. He was raised by his grandparents. His impression of his parents was limited to merely knowing them, and both had since remarried and started new lives.

Because of this, as a child, he had feared abandonment.

That was why, when Xu Qian claimed she had voted for him, he followed her unquestioningly.

But memories often come too late. By the time he truly understood that he was the sole choice his grandparents had firmly made for him, it was already too late—the time when one wishes to care for their parents but they are no longer there.

Now, returning once more, the images of the little old woman and the frail old man in his mind resurfaced, and suddenly his heart ached with a sharp pang.

Following the path he remembered, Lin Qianfan walked until he finally stopped before a wooden gate.

Then, he gently knocked and called for his grandmother.

Before long, the hunched little old woman came out, grumbling.

“You little debt collector, coming back so late, planning to annoy someone to death?”

Her hair was streaked with gray, and she bent over as she struggled to unlatch the door, cursing under her breath while shoving a pre-warmed hot water bottle into his arms.

“Grandma, I really missed you so much!”

Lin Qianfan took the hot water bottle and embraced the little old woman. She was light and thin, probably weighing less than seventy pounds, yet this small frame had pulled him through childhood. She was the warmth he had longed to hold countless times in dreams but never could.

“You come home so late, don’t think I won’t punish you just because your grandpa does the same sappy stuff!”

As she spoke, her rough hands lightly patted him.

“No, no, Grandma, whatever you say goes—I always listen to you!”

“Come inside for dinner!”

Seeing his submission, the little old woman stopped scolding and pulled him inside.

In rural homes, there were no distinct bedrooms or living rooms, especially for elderly grandparents who usually ate on the heated kang bed.

Just inside, Lin Qianfan saw his grandfather wearing reading glasses, engrossed in a newspaper.

His grandfather was an intellectual who had served in the military, once fought against bandits, and upon returning declined an official post to farm the land, carrying an unmistakable spirit.

In the previous life, after being betrayed by Xu Qian, Lin Qianfan had fallen into despair for a time, but ultimately pulled himself out and worked hard—a transformation heavily influenced by his grandfather’s example.

“Back already? Time to eat!” his grandfather said bluntly.

His straightforward nature was evident; he refused any government aid. The fact that Lin Qianfan’s parents divorced and he didn’t accept any support from either parent spoke volumes.

“Yes,” Lin Qianfan replied.

Feeling the long-missed pressure from his grandfather, he sat cross-legged on the kang, obediently finished the meal, and tidied the table. He intended to have a proper conversation with them afterward.

But it was already time to sleep, so reluctantly, he returned to his room and curled up under the covers.

Perhaps it was seeing Xia Ruo, or meeting his grandparents again, or simply the first day of his time travel—Lin Qianfan found himself unable to fall asleep.

His thoughts drifted far away. There was still half a semester left. In the previous life, he had scraped into a top-tier university through sports and academics.

To be honest, in high school he barely managed to pass except for Chinese and political science. The rest he guessed blindly, especially math, in which he scored single digits. His teacher once joked that even if he threw the test on the floor and stomped on it twice, the scanner might read a double-digit score.

However, his sprinting ranked seventh in the city—quite an achievement. His previous school’s teachers had put him into the best-quality experimental school to nurture his talents.

But that was all past.

In his former life, to protect his foreign trade orders from sabotage, he had taught himself English. Handling the college entrance exam wasn’t a problem. As for politics and Chinese, he had never been bad at those. Geography was memorization; with some effort, he could manage. Biology and math, requiring analytical thinking, were a challenge—but he would try his best.

No matter how poorly, it couldn’t be worse than before.

Setting aside the college entrance exam, there was the matter of making money. Though he had once been worth billions, growing up in an ivory tower meant he had missed several chances to get rich.

He distinctly remembered that after the college entrance exam, in October, stocks that had been suspended for years relisted and surged by 370% in a year.

Apart from the stock market, opportunities abounded in social media sales, Yiwu markets, and even real estate—all soaring rapidly during that period.

In his previous life, due to lack of information, he missed these chances. This time around, he vowed not to let them slip by.

But all of this required initial capital.

There was certainly none from his grandparents. As for his estranged parents, though wealthy, he vividly recalled when his grandparents passed away, he had begged them once for university tuition.

Back then, they drove luxury SUVs, lived in villas, and their children were called “young masters” by servants.

Meanwhile, he wore a faded shirt and ill-fitting jeans, truly like a beggar intruding into a palace—completely out of place inside and out.

In the end, he sold blood to pay for tuition and never saw those parents again.

Lin Qianfan banished these mundane thoughts from his mind and instead focused on how to earn his first pot of gold.

For now, academics took precedence. After all, the college entrance exam was the simplest and quickest path out of here.

Short and fast money—that thought suddenly jolted him upright.

“Thank you, Xu Qian!”

With those words, he sat up abruptly on the bed.

In this new life, what could be easier than being a literary ghostwriter?

Novels and lyrics—two unbeatable weapons!

He dressed and went to his desk, pulling out his keypad phone to start editing.

When Xu Qian betrayed him in the past, he had sunk into writing novels and love songs. That experience had become his current treasure trove.

Lin Qianfan began writing lyrics. He was no music prodigy and knew nothing about composing.

But writing lyrics came naturally.

Of course, as a conscientious ghostwriter, he only intended for his lyrics to reach the original singers, both to avoid unintended butterfly effects and because only these three could pay the price he sought.

By morning, three sets of lyrics appeared on his phone:

“Jiangnan,” “Seven Mile Fragrance,” “Fleet of Time”

Pen name: Striving Current!