Water Lily

11

After the academic seminar on Wednesday afternoon, Lin Yan had just packed his notebook when he was stopped by his supervisor, Professor Zhou. The bookshelves in Professor Zhou’s office were lined with economics works; sunlight fell on the wooden desk, where an open research project proposal lay beside a blue and white porcelain teacup—Professor Zhou’s usual mug.

"Lin Yan, come sit," Professor Zhou gestured to the chair opposite, picked up his teacup and took a sip, his gaze falling on the literature review in Lin Yan’s hand. "Did Xiaoran organize this for you? That girl is usually a bit impulsive, but she’s become much more careful since working on the project with you."

Lin Yan froze for a moment, the folder in his hand pausing slightly. He had long known that Song Xiaoran had participated in undergraduate research projects with Professor Zhou, but he had never associated her with the supervisor as "family"—after all, Professor Zhou’s surname was Zhou and Xiaoran’s was Song. He had only regarded them as a typical teacher-student pair.

"Xiaoran is very meticulous; the categorized literature is very clear," Lin Yan replied truthfully, while a subtle ripple stirred in his heart.

Professor Zhou smiled, took an academic journal from the drawer, flipped to a page and handed it to Lin Yan: "The review comments for the paper you submitted last time are back. There are a few places where data validation needs supplementing. Coincidentally, Xiaoran has relevant survey data. You two can check it together tonight. She lives in the school staff dormitory, not far from your rental apartment."

Though seemingly an academic arrangement, the words carried an undeniable hint—Professor Zhou specifically emphasized the distance between their residences, clearly intending to create opportunities for them to interact. Lin Yan took the journal, his fingertips touching the warmth of the paper. He understood the supervisor’s intention, but still replied gently: "Alright, Professor Zhou. I’ll contact Xiaoran tonight."

"Mm," Professor Zhou nodded, his gaze resting on Lin Yan with the scrutiny and warmth of an elder. "You’re a steady student academically, but you’re too reserved. Xiaoran is my daughter—she took her mother’s surname. We’ve spoiled her a bit since she was a child, so she’s a little naive, but she’s sincere. You young people should communicate more—not just about academics, but also to take care of each other in life."

The three words "my daughter" were like a small stone, sending ripples through Lin Yan’s heart. He finally understood why Xiaoran had easily obtained the laboratory key and advanced knowledge of project directions before—it wasn’t just because she was particularly hardworking, but because of her connection to the supervisor. He also recalled the previous project team dinners, where Professor Zhou always seated Xiaoran next to him, smiling and saying "Lin Yan, take care of Xiaoran—she can’t handle spicy food." At the time, he had thought it was just a supervisor’s concern for a student, but now he realized it had all been deliberate.

As he walked downstairs from the office, Lin Yan saw Song Xiaoran running over with a stack of experimental data, her ponytail swinging briskly: "Senior! Did Professor Zhou tell you about the data? I’ve already organized it into tables. Shall we check it at the school café tonight? I’ll treat you to that sweet coffee you liked last time!"

Her smile was still vibrant, and she didn’t mention being the professor’s daughter—apparently not wanting this identity to affect their interaction. Lin Yan looked at the neat tables in her hand, his fingertips brushing gently against his folder, his tone softer than usual: "Sure. Seven o’clock tonight—I’ll reserve a seat in advance."

He didn’t expose her identity, partly to avoid embarrassing Xiaoran, and partly because he didn’t want this academic collaboration to be stained with too much utilitarianism. Even though he knew the supervisor was "hinting," he wanted to maintain his original rhythm and not change his attitude due to interpersonal pressure.

That evening in the café, warm yellow lights fell on the notebooks in front of them. Xiaoran pointed at the data table, her brows furrowed slightly: "Senior, look here. The data fluctuation in the control group is a bit large—could there be a problem with the sample selection during the survey?" Her fingertips slid across the screen, her nails neatly trimmed and painted with a light pink nail polish, like peach petals in spring.

Lin Yan leaned closer, pointing at the outliers in the table: "It should be due to low respondent cooperation during rainy days. We can exclude these invalid data and supplement with a new set of weekend samples." He deliberately maintained a slight distance as he spoke, his shoulder not touching Xiaoran’s, his gaze always fixed on the screen.

Xiaoran nodded, then suddenly looked up and smiled: "Senior, you’re amazing! I told the professor about this problem yesterday, and he said I should ask you more. The professor always says you’re the most steady student he’s ever supervised, and tells me to learn from you."

She mentioned "the professor" casually, as if it were an ordinary matter, without the slightest hint of showing off. The subtlety in Lin Yan’s heart faded a little, and he followed her lead: "Professor Zhou has profound academic achievements. I still have a lot to learn from him."

"Then you should consult my dad more often!" Xiaoran’s eyes lit up. "My dad often reads at home on weekends. If you have academic questions, you can go to our house anytime—and you can also try my mom’s braised pork ribs, they’re super delicious!"

The invitation in her words was unmistakable. Lin Yan’s hand holding the coffee cup paused, and he politely declined: "The project is in a rush right now. Let’s wait until I finish this busy period. I don’t want to disturb Professor Zhou’s rest."

He knew this was Xiaoran’s kindness, and also the interaction model the supervisor hoped for. But the mark left by Su Wan in his heart still remained. He didn’t want to force himself due to identity pressure, let alone delay Xiaoran.

In the days that followed, Professor Zhou’s "hints" became more frequent. During project team meetings, he always assigned Lin Yan and Xiaoran to present together; when the laboratory lacked equipment, he specifically asked the two of them to pick it up from the warehouse together; even after academic conferences, he would smile and say "Lin Yan, see Xiaoran home—it’s not safe at night."

Lin Yan politely agreed each time. When walking Xiaoran home, they mostly talked about academic topics. Occasionally, when Xiaoran mentioned interesting things at school, he would listen carefully, but never spoke much about personal matters. Once, passing the parasol-lined path at Mingde University, Xiaoran pointed at the falling leaves and said: "Senior, look! These leaves are just like the sketch you keep in your notebook!"

Lin Yan’s heart trembled slightly, and he instinctively touched the notebook in his pocket—the one with Su Wan’s sketch, which he had always carried with him. He smiled, didn’t respond, and just quickened his pace.

Xiaoran didn’t notice his unusual reaction and continued: "My dad told my mom yesterday that he thinks you’re a good person and told me to spend more time with you." Her cheeks blushed slightly, her tone carrying the shyness of a young girl. "Senior, I know I might seem too direct, but I really admire you."

Lin Yan stopped walking, looking at Xiaoran’s sincere eyes under the street lamp, a trace of guilt stirring in his heart. He knew he couldn’t be ambiguous anymore, and his tone was gentle yet firm: "Xiaoran, you’re very excellent and deserve someone better. There are... memories in my heart that I can’t let go of. I don’t want to delay you."

This was the first time he had clearly refused. The smile froze on Xiaoran’s face, and her eyes reddened slightly, but she still said stubbornly: "I know you have someone unforgettable, but I can wait."

Lin Yan didn’t say anything else, just sent her to the entrance of the staff dormitory, watching her walk into the corridor before turning to leave. The evening wind swept up the parasol leaves on the ground, falling at his feet, as if reminding him of the memories hidden in his heart.

When he got home, Grandma was watching TV. Seeing him return, she smiled and said: "Professor Zhou called just now. He said you’ve been working hard lately and told you not to overdo it. He also said that girl Xiaoran takes good care of you."

Lin Yan froze, not expecting the supervisor to specially call his grandma. He sat beside Grandma, tucked the blanket around her, and said softly: "Professor Zhou takes good care of me, and Xiaoran is also very hardworking."

"That’s good," Grandma patted his hand. "Professor Zhou is a good man, and that girl Xiaoran is thoughtful. If you think she’s a good match, don’t be too stubborn."

Lin Yan nodded, not saying more. He knew Grandma and the supervisor meant well, but the hurdle in his heart wasn’t something he could easily cross. He walked to his desk, took out the notebook with the sketch, and opened it to the sentence Su Wan had written—"May we all shine brightly in our own fields."

Moonlight fell on the words, and Lin Yan gently closed the notebook. He knew that facing the supervisor’s "hints" and Xiaoran’s persistence, he needed to face his own heart more honestly—neither failing others’ kindness nor wronging his own sincerity. Time was still long. He would carry this persistence, continue walking his own path, waiting for the memories in his heart to settle slowly, and for the answer that belonged to him.