DSYOM Chapter 25

The 35th anniversary party of the T University’s Department of Civil Engineering was finally decided to be held at the Fisherman’s Wharf.

Fisherman’s Wharf was a restaurant located on the scenic lakeside island in the tourist area, offering seafood dishes flown in from various countries. The environment was beautiful, and the prices were high; diners could see the lake and mountains through the floor-to-ceiling windows of their private rooms.

Time passed quickly. Students from the same campus were now separated by thousands of miles, having settled down in different countries. It was not easy to arrange a time to meet, so the gathering was very grand. It lasted a full three days; aside from toasting and chatting, they also planned to revisit their alma mater and have an in-depth tour of Beijing. Bian Cheng and Song Yuchi’s father, as representatives of the alumni who stayed in Beijing, took on the role of hosts, arranging a three-day itinerary for the classmates who came from afar. They toured the royal gardens during the day and held banquets at the scenic restaurant in the evening.

When Song Yuchi and Bian Cheng arrived at the hotel entrance, the lakeside island was already shrouded in dusk. The bright lights illuminated the oak sign, and the smiling waiter opened the door for them.

As Song Yuchi loosened his scarf, he whispered to Bian Cheng, “I am unlucky to be with you on this kind of occasion again. You owe me compensation for mental distress.”

From childhood to now, Bian Cheng had received countless similar threats, and his brain automatically filtered them out as background noise.

Song Yuchi also did not want to come, but unfortunately, his father had insisted that he go. He did not quite understand his father’s mentality; having a son who extended his graduation attending a classmate gathering did not bring much face. He counted the risks of attending the banquet in his mind. “There are thirty uncles and aunts inside,” Song Yuchi shuddered at the thought, “As soon as I go in and they hear I’m a Ph.D. candidate, they will immediately ask how my dissertation is going, how my job search is, why I am a sixth year Ph.D. candidate…”

“By the way,” Bian Cheng asked, “how’s the job search going?”

Song Yuchi shot him a glance—if looks could kill, that one glance would have ended him.

“What’s wrong?” Bian Cheng sensed something was off. “Didn’t you say last time that you’d already received an offer from Guo Wang?”

Song Yuchi rubbed his nose, awkwardly replying, “That ah, it’s not important anymore, since I won’t be graduating next year anyway.”

Bian Cheng looked at him, “You’ve extended your graduation again?”

Song Yuchi was dissatisfied with how Bian Cheng pronounced the word ‘again’ so clearly: “Sigh, unexpected things happen.”

Bian Cheng was silent for a moment, “Didn’t you pass your preliminary defense?”

The preliminary defense meant that the advisor had agreed to the student’s graduation. Although obtaining a PhD was extremely difficult, the advisor was the most critical hurdle. In theory, After passing that, graduation was usually within reach as long as the dissertation was written properly.

“Did a blind reviewer shoot it down?”

After the dissertation is completed, it is sent to peers—professors in the same field—for review. The review is divided into open and blind reviews. In an open review, the professors are often acquaintances of the advisor, so they tend to be lenient. However, blind review, due to anonymity, is filled with uncertainty. If the review results in a C grade, an extension is inevitable.

Dissertations are significant matters, and professors are usually very cautious when grading. However, there are exceptions—blocking other people due to personal grudges. There had been cases where outstanding students received a C in the blind review, which, based on the quality of the dissertation, was impossible to justify. After much speculation, everyone concluded that the reviewer was likely a rival of the student’s advisor.

Bian Cheng guessed that Song Yuchi had been shot down in the blind review, attributing the cause of his delayed graduation entirely to external factors, out of kindness.

“That’s not it,” Song Yuchi shattered his childhood friend’s rare display of kindness. “I never even submitted it for review…”

“There are several months between the preliminary defense and the review. If you didn’t revise your dissertation, what were you doing?”

“I…” Song Yuchi said, “I was busy job hunting…”

And now, it turned out the job was useless too.

This guy always messes up at crucial moments. Back in college, Song Yuchi’s father had planned for him to pursue a PhD abroad, but he got caught up in some campus theater production, and by senior year, he still hadn’t met the language requirements for his dream school, so he stayed at the university. During his PhD, most people would spend one or two years abroad to gain overseas experience. Others did it in their third or fourth year, but he insisted on going in his fifth year, and by the time he came back, he hadn’t even started his dissertation topic, leading to an extension.

And now, this situation.

It seemed that Song Yuchi’s parents were still unaware of this, otherwise, he wouldn’t be standing here with all his limbs intact.

Bian Cheng wanted to offer his condolences early, but when he turned to look at Song Yuchi, he saw him looking delighted, his face beaming. “This is great, I can hang around for another year.”

His mental state was so healthy that Bian Cheng did not know whether to be thankful or sad.

“You’d better eat more today,” Bian Cheng said, “there might not be a next meal.”

“Can you wish something good for me?”

“No one’s coming to save you now. You’re on your own.”

Song Yuchi sighed and hung his head. The last few times he had narrowly escaped punishment, it was thanks to Bian Cheng’s grandfather, who had saved him from the flames. The old man was highly respected in academic circles, and the younger generation had to show some respect, so when family discipline was enforced, they went easy on him. Unfortunately, the old man passed away a few months ago, and now there was no one left to intervene in his family’s disciplinary measures. How tragic.

“Don’t let it slip,” Song Yuchi pointed at Bian Cheng in a threatening manner. “I want to live freely for a while before I die.”

“Don’t worry, the dirt you have on me is much bigger than just an extension.”

Song Yuchi thought it over carefully and happily nodded. They walked to the private room, and the waiter opened the door for them. Inside, four tables of people all turned to look toward the entrance. Song Yuchi took a deep breath and walked in with a stage play smile. Bian Cheng quickly scanned the room and noticed one table was still half-empty, with three seats remaining.

Bian Huaiyuan came over from the main table, draping his arm over Bian Cheng’s shoulder and gesturing toward the empty seats. “You young ones sit there.”

Bian Huaiyuan pointed at the people at the table and introduced them one by one to the two juniors. Bian Cheng often heard these names in his parents’ conversations, but today was the first time he could connect the names to faces.

Over the years, it seemed that Bian Huaiyuan often talked about his son with his old classmates, and everyone at the table looked at Bian Cheng with great interest.

“After returning to China, are you still researching algebraic geometry?” asked an elderly man with graying hair.

“Yes,” Bian Cheng replied.

Another middle-aged man at the table smiled and joked with his old classmate, “In our class, Old Bian’s genes were passed down the best. My son, if it weren’t for me pumping resources into him to send him abroad, he wouldn’t have even gotten into a university.”

The gray-haired man sighed, “Is that Old Bian’s genes? That’s Meng Jie’s genes.”

The middle-aged man laughed and said to Bian Cheng, “Your mother was quite the legendary figure in her time.”

“She was the first in our class to win the Outstanding Engineering Design Gold Award.”

“She went to compete in the Beijing University Student Games, kept saying she was nervous, then set a new record in javelin.”

Back then, there were few women in their class, and as they told Bian Cheng about his mother’s illustrious achievements, a sense of regret permeated their words. Bian Cheng’s mother had been the only woman in that year’s class, and if not for a tragic accident that claimed her life at a young age, she would undoubtedly have become a shining star in the field of engineering.

As old classmates reunited, they couldn’t help but sigh over the golden couple of their class from back in the day.

“When Meng Jie had her accident, Old Bian called me. This big man, crying like a child.”

“Isn’t it—it’s been over ten years, and he still hasn’t found anyone else.”

Listening to the stories of the older generation, Bian Cheng thought about the last time he saw his mother. After school, his father had taken him to the hospital, where his first sight was overwhelming patches of glaring white, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant. In a cold and enclosed space, a white cloth covering her face, and the sign at the head of the bed that read, ‘Meng Jie, Female, 34 years old.’

At that time, his father had indeed been deeply grief-stricken, but it was different from his own pain. His pain was like a black hole of eternal night, swallowing all light and warmth. His father’s pain, on the other hand, was like frozen ground in spring, with seeds buried underneath. As the days warmed and the ice thawed, those seeds would break through the soil, sprouting a new wife, a new son, and a new life.

Of course, the outsiders in front of him had no idea. In their eyes, Bian Huaiyuan had always been a rare example of true devotion. To them, the love between the classmates was both tragic and admirable, a love that could be sung about. It was the contemporary saying that ‘one who has seen the ocean thinks nothing of mere rivers.’¹an idiom 曾经沧海难为水，除却巫山不是云 (lit. there are no rivers to one who has crossed the ocean, and no clouds to one who has passed Mount Wu): one who has seen the world doesn’t stop at small things

While everyone’s attention was focused on Bian Cheng, Song Yuchi quietly stuffed his face, grateful that no one was paying any attention to him.

However, his peace didn’t last long. After just a few bites, Song Yuchi’s father shot him a look, urging him to stand up and propose a toast. Song Yuchi let out a deep sigh, picked up his glass, and as he stood up, he threw a tragic glance at Bian Cheng. Then, he quickly switched to a cheerful smile. “Uncles and aunties, welcome back to Beijing! It must have been a tiring journey.”

The uncles and aunties graciously stood up, each taking a big sip of their drink. Song Yuchi was just about to sit down, thinking he had fulfilled his social duties for the day, when someone’s voice shattered his hopes. “Yuchi, right? Are you still in school or working? I remember you’re doing a PhD, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The heater was turned on so high that Song Yuchi began to sweat, “I’m graduating this year.”

He spoke vaguely, hoping the elders wouldn’t dig into the details, and thus smoothly transitioned the topic to the next sensitive point. “So, you’re job hunting now! Are you planning to go into industry or stay in academia?”

“It’s really tough to stay in academia these days…” Song Yuchi glanced at Bian Cheng and quickly shifted the focus back to his old friend. “Only someone like Bian Cheng, a returned PhD with a prestigious degree, can stay at a good university.”

Among the guests was a man with black-framed glasses at the table. He stayed on campus after graduation and now was working as a professor in the Department of Civil Engineering at T University. “Yes, when we graduated from graduate school back then, the school begged us to stay, but no one wanted to. Now it’s hard for students who go straight to a doctorate from undergraduate studies at T University to get into a 211 university.”

The middle-aged people were full of sentiments, each offering their views on the current employment situation of colleges and universities. Song Yuchi wiped his sweat and quickly sat down, trying to minimize his presence.

“Nowadays, young people are really competitive,” said the civil engineering professor, “My students keep saying they can’t find good jobs.”

“Things were much easier for us back in the day,” another middle-aged man sighed. “Look at Old Fang—he worked hard in the U.S. for a few years, and now he even has a swimming pool at home.”

The person across the table laughed and said, “It’s not expensive to dig a swimming pool in the United States. The land price there is cheap. You have so many houses in Shenzhen—you’re the real wealthy one.”

“What rich landowner? I’m just a senior worker at the Land Reform Commission,” the middle-aged man pointed to the main seat at another table. “Old Bian is a university president, with students all over the place. His students are his network of contacts—this is called invisible assets, and that’s what’s truly valuable.”

They graduated just as the peak of infrastructure development hit, and during those golden twenty years, they successfully completed the accumulation of initial capital and class transition. Sitting in this private room, talking about the past, felt like a microcosm of that high-speed economic development period.

Bian Cheng listened to the older generation of civil engineering professionals boast, focusing on staying out of the conversation. Next to him was an empty seat, like a thorn stuck in his throat, making him feel uneasy.

Bian Huaiyuan walked over to this table and asked if they needed another bottle of Moutai. After everyone declined, he leaned on a classmate’s chair and asked, “When is Xichen arriving?”

“She just messaged me saying she’s stuck in traffic,” the person replied, “It might be another fifteen minutes.”

“Then let’s wait for her before ordering more dishes.”

As expected, Bian Cheng put down his chopsticks. This was a blind date in disguise.

He knew that his father’s insistence on having him attend the reunion, despite using soft and humble tactics, wasn’t just to show off his son.

“Don’t think too much about it. She’s just here for a meal,” Bian Huaiyuan said with a smile to Bian Cheng. “She’s studying physics, so you two will definitely have a lot in common.”

The words were skillfully chosen, but the underlying intention remained unchanged.

Bian Cheng looked at Song Yuchi, who was shaking his head vigorously. “I have a poor foundation in physics,” Song Yuchi said loudly. “I only got a C in my advanced physics course.”

“You young people have a good chat.” Bian Huaiyuan patted Bian Cheng on the shoulder. Bian Cheng looked up and saw, across the table, his father’s old classmate—Xichen’s father—staring intently at him.

This was a blind date with the parents present.

A quarter of an hour. The second hand slowly ticked by. The ticking sound was like a bomb countdown.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated. Bian Cheng picked it up and saw a message from Wen Di: [Are you free? I want to talk to you about something and need your help.]

Bian Cheng paused and replied: [Call me.]

Wen Di: [The matter is a bit troublesome…How about I treat you to a meal and we can talk while eating?]

Bian Cheng: [No matter what it is, call me now, and I’ll agree immediately.]

The other party hesitated for a while, and just when Bian Cheng wanted to send a message to urge him, the phone rang. Bian Cheng said, “Sorry, I have a call,” and picked up the phone: “What’s going on?”

Wen Di’s voice came through: “I have a class reunion next week and my ex-boyfriend will be there too.”

Bian Cheng’s face grew serious: “How could this happen? Have you managed to get things under control?”

“Can you come with me?”

“What’s the situation now?” Bian Cheng asked. “Have you informed your parents?”

“Pretend to be my boyfriend?”

“Okay,” Bian Cheng said, “I’ll come over right away. Where are you?”

“The coffee shop outside the northeast gate.”

“Got it. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Bian Cheng hung up the phone, stood up, and said to the curious elders around him, “Something happened at the school. I have to go back and take a look.”

T/N: Hellooo, another episode of I don’t know from which work is this quote from because I literally couldn’t find anything, so here’s the literal translation of it!

Anyway, sorry for not updating yesterday after saying I’ll update every weekdays. There was something unavoidable yesterday so didn’t manage to update! Next chapter is will be posted on 12 am GMT +8!

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  an idiom 曾经沧海难为水，除却巫山不是云 (lit. there are no rivers to one who has crossed the ocean, and no clouds to one who has passed Mount Wu): one who has seen the world doesn’t stop at small things