An 80s female translator was spoiled rotten by a rough and jealous man.

Chapter 325 "Why is it titled 'The Lock'?"

After morning exercises, the teachers returned to the office together, surrounding Principal Zhou and distributing the small gifts she had brought back from her business trip. They weren't particularly valuable, but everyone received something. The students mostly received bookmarks and stationery printed with elements of the prestigious university, while the teachers each received a thermos and a can of throat lozenges.

Before long, the preparatory bell rang, and the group of teachers immediately dispersed, striding back to their desks. Each teacher grabbed their textbooks, test papers, homework sets, and other materials, along with gifts for their students, and headed to their respective classes.

Principal Zhou stopped Teacher Miao and asked, "Didn't you tell me the other day that a volunteer from a prestigious university's foreign language department came to our primary school? Where is she? I haven't seen her."

“Look,” Teacher Miao turned to the side and pointed to one of the tables by the window, “that’s her seat across from me. Teacher Meng wasn’t feeling well this morning, so she swapped classes with me. She should still be resting in her dorm right now. You’ll definitely see her later.”

After saying that, Teacher Miao quickly walked to her desk, picked up her textbook, and hurriedly left the office.

In just a few seconds, the once bustling office was left with only Principal Zhou. The teaching staff at Hope Primary School is quite strained, and if any teacher takes leave, others have to step in to fill the gap.

Principal Zhou, holding a thermos in one hand and a can of throat lozenges in the other, walked to the desk by the window and gently placed the items on the table.

Just as she was about to leave, her gaze inadvertently swept across the table and then stopped. She couldn't help but glance a few more times at the thin old poetry collection placed on the corner of the table. Out of politeness and respect, she did not reach out to pick it up and examine it closely.

Just then, a sweet female voice came from behind: "Are you Principal Pearl?"

Upon hearing the sound, Principal Zhou turned around and bumped into a beautiful yet strangely familiar face. She was speechless for a moment, stunned in place. She looked at the girl's face, then turned her head and looked down at the poetry collection on the corner of the table.

...

The teachers' office is not spacious, but it is well-ventilated from north to south. There are two sliding windows on the south-facing wall, and a small balcony on the north side, where dozens of potted plants are grown. It is well-lit and usually looks after by Principal Zhou.

Several bamboo rattan chairs were placed on the balcony for the school's teachers to take a short break during their work. At this moment, Meng Youyou and Principal Zhou were sitting opposite each other with one chair between them.

Having spoken at length, Principal Zhou's throat was a little dry. He unscrewed the lid of his thermos, took a few sips of hot water, and then asked, "Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

Meng Youyou gazed at the distant woods, her eyes soft, a faint smile playing on her lips, and slowly shook her head.

“I do have a question I’d like to ask you, one that has been bothering me for many years.” Principal Zhou put the lid back on the cup and gently placed it back on the small round wooden table to his right. “Oh no, there should be two questions, but I think I already know the answer to one of them.”

"Teacher Meng Youyou," the woman suddenly addressed her formally, emphasizing the two repeated words.

Principal Zhou raised an eyebrow at her and asked with a smile, "As for the other one, I wonder if there's a chance to solve it today?"

"What?" Meng Youyou turned her face.

Principal Zhou glanced down at the old poetry collection on the girl's jeans, and Meng Youyou followed his gaze and lowered her head as well.

“This book…” Principal Zhou lifted his eyes, then looked into the other person’s eyes and asked, “Why did he name it ‘The Lock’? I always felt that it wasn’t a name he came up with randomly, but I forgot to ask at the time.”

So there was no further opportunity to ask.

The last time Zhou Xiaobei saw that man in her life was at the entrance of the newspaper office. He came to the newspaper office specifically to find her and ask her to do something for him. This was the first and only time that man asked her for a favor.

Of course, if we look back from the perspective of those who came after, Zhou Xiaobei thinks it would be more appropriate to define this request as "making arrangements for his funeral".

He told her, "If one day in the future the number of girls admitted to universities in China exceeds the number of boys, could you help me compile and publish these letters into a book?" Huo Qingshan handed her a manila envelope. "The money in here should be enough to cover the publication costs?"

Zhou Xiaobei reached out and took it, completely bewildered. Before opening it, she specifically asked, "Can I open it now?"

After hesitating for a moment, Huo Qingshan raised his hand and said, "You'll see this when you're late, so please go ahead."

Zhou Xiaobei understood his unspoken meaning and asked in surprise, "How can you be so sure that this book will be published in my lifetime?" The implication was, how can you be so sure that I can witness the day when more girls than boys are admitted to university?

After all, for Zhou Xiaobei at that time, hearing such a statement out of the blue was tantamount to telling the common people of ancient times that humans could one day fly into the sky—too far-fetched and unrealistic. Although Zhou Xiaobei was already a full-time employee at the newspaper and her career was gradually getting on track, and her fantasies about the future had not been shattered, it still did not change the fact that she felt that the hypothesis she was hearing from the man in front of her was an unattainable "daydream."

"I'm not sure," Huo Qingshan smiled palely, "but I want to retain the right to believe."

The file folder was filled with postcards, thick stacks upon stacks. Zhou Xiaobei randomly picked out a few to look at—the words on them weren't fancy or romantic, but rather the most simple and pure expressions, conveying immeasurable love and longing.

Seeing this, Zhou Xiaobei became increasingly confused. "These are written for you...?" Zhou Xiaobei couldn't quite figure out the other party's identity.

Huo Qingshan quickly added, "My love."

Hearing this, Zhou Xiaobei nodded in understanding, and then asked, "But why don't you just send it to her directly?" Since she was a lover, it couldn't be unrequited love, Zhou Xiaobei thought logically.

“She won’t receive it.” The man gave a silent, bitter laugh. A few seconds later, Huo Qingshan added, “Only in this way can she possibly receive it.”

Zhou Xiaobei found herself increasingly confused. The simple sentences, strung together, were utterly incomprehensible, leaving her completely bewildered by the other person's cryptic pronouncements. She put the postcard back into the file folder, sealed it, and after much deliberation, finally asked the question that puzzled her most: "Why do you want to do this?" In Zhou Xiaobei's eyes, Huo Qingshan's rigid personality was definitely not the type to publicly proclaim his private feelings, allowing them to spread widely and become the subject of gossip. This was very unlike his usual style. Therefore, this request, while not utterly shocking, was certainly quite surprising.

This question seemed to have truly stumped the man. A look of utter confusion and hesitation gradually appeared on his face. After a long silence, Zhou Xiaobei heard the man murmur something under his breath: "What if she still wants it?"

Huo Qingshan didn't know whether "she" would still need this "lock" by then.
Admittedly, making the decision to compile his most private feelings into a book and expose them completely to the public eye, allowing anyone to spy and discuss them, required overcoming far more than one or two psychological barriers. Even as he handed over the entire file, Huo Qingshan was still not fully prepared.

But when he thought about how she had said she "hated him for not keeping his word," and when he thought about how she might be as sad and frustrated as he was because she couldn't find him, Huo Qingshan felt that everything else seemed insignificant, and those random things didn't seem so scary.

In any case, he had to finish writing the ninety-nine letters he had promised her and deliver them to her in every way he could think of; that was all he could do.

Why is it titled "The Lock"?

Zhou Xiaobei vaguely guessed that there was probably an incredibly romantic and touching story behind it. Whether it was due to the author's instinctive inclination towards delicate and moving love stories, or the curiosity accumulated over decades of unsolved mysteries, the combination of these two factors finally prompted Zhou Xiaobei to decisively ask.

Upon hearing this, the girl opposite lowered her head and smiled, a hint of shy embarrassment in her eyes—she was truly beautiful! Even Principal Pearl, who considered herself well-read, couldn't find a single word to describe that smile.

Staring blankly at the girl's vivid profile and the faint blush on her cheeks, Zhou Xiaobei could no longer reconcile the face before her with the similar yet blurry face in her memory.

The girl lowered her head and flipped through the book on her lap, speaking softly: "Because I told him that no matter where we are, even if we don't see each other for a long time, as long as you say you love me and give me a 'lock,' every day from now on will have a different meaning."

Her fingertips traced the words of love on the yellowed paper. Even after years had passed, the intensity of the love had not diminished in the slightest. As Meng Youyou looked at them, her eyes welled up with tears, and then she smiled.

If you lock it, people will understand.

"This book was published in 09." Zhou Xiaobei casually recounted the past: "At that time, it took a lot of connections and effort to prepare for its publication, but it didn't sell very well after it was released. Only two batches were printed, totaling less than 4000 copies."

The second time, I had to persuade the publishing house's CEO to dinner, and he did me a favor and printed another batch, but it didn't sell very well, the publishing house didn't make any money, and later they absolutely refused to continue printing it." Zhou Xiaobei shook her head and laughed.

"I originally kept a few copies for my collection, but after moving several times, I had too much stuff and ended up losing them. I can't find them now."

A few seconds later, the woman seemed to sigh, "It's fate that you were able to find such a book."

The girl listened quietly for a while without saying a word. Just as Zhou Xiaobei thought she wouldn't say anything more and was about to make room for her to get up and leave the balcony, she saw Meng Youyou suddenly raise her head, staring straight at her, and ask, "What if I said... I am that Youyou? Would you believe me?"

"Why don't you believe me?" Zhou Xiaobei asked calmly.

“Don’t you think it’s absurd? I’m only 21 years old!” the girl emphasized.

"So what?" Ms. Zhou replied nonchalantly.

"Doesn't a reasonable explanation need to be given?" This question lacks a subject; Meng Youyou seems to be asking Zhou Xiaobei, but that's not necessarily the case.

"Since it's something beautiful and unforgettable, why not believe in it?" The elegant and poised lady sitting across from her was Zhou Xiaobei, nearly sixty years old, with a composed demeanor and wise speech. No longer the high school girl who was slapped by her mother but didn't know how to resist, she was "Pearl," a well-known writer who had experienced many ups and downs and seen the world.

"Shouldn't people be obsessed with love and eternity?" She answered the girl's long-standing question with just one question.

...

The night air was cool from the mountain stream. Meng Youyou sat on the ping-pong table next to the school playground, looking up at the moon.

Hope Primary School has four ping-pong tables, side by side. The other three are made of SMC plywood donated by members of the community or alumni, with smooth and sturdy surfaces and anti-collision strips around the edges. Only this one is made of cement. Judging from the degree of wear and tear, it is probably the oldest facility that has been preserved in the school. It has silently stood guard by the playground for many years, witnessing generation after generation of children growing up.

The girl braced her hands on the rough cement platform, gently swaying her legs, tilting her head back to look at the sky. Her long neck was stretched out, and the moonlight made her skin look exceptionally smooth and fair.

The bangs that were gathered around her ears were ruffled by the night wind, and the stray hairs brushed against her eyelids, tickling her. Meng Youyou closed her eyes, shook off the strands of hair that were hanging down at the corners of her eyes, and then opened them again. The moon in the sky was bright and round, and the song in her headphones was humming: "Evening breeze, evening breeze, tell her how much I miss her."

"Please deliver this message to me from afar. If you have seen her, I just want to talk to her again."

The summer night breeze, carrying a slight heat, caressed the well-defined muscles of the man's arms as he worked hard, but couldn't dispel the beads of sweat on his forehead. The man, wielding a shovel, forcefully mixed the dry cement and sand on the ground, piling it into a basin shape. Then, he half-squatted down, picked up a bucket of water with one hand, poured in half a bucket of water, and continued to stir it with the shovel until it formed a pool of grayish-black mud.

When the water ran out, the man picked up an empty bucket in each hand and went to the stream bend in the west corner of the village to fetch more water. After filling two buckets to the brim and placing them on the bank, the man bent down to cool off and scooped up some water from the stream to wash his face. Large drops of water rolled down his chin.

When he opened his eyes, a narrow, crescent moon was reflected on the shimmering stream, bright and sparkling, like someone's eyes. The man was lost in thought, letting the water between his palms seep silently away.

"Moon, moon, hang in the sky, where is the one I love?"

After a long while, the man returned to the shore, splashing through the water, picked up two large buckets of water, and headed towards the village primary school.

"Listen to the waves, mocking my long-lasting love, how absurd!" Before the song was finished, Meng Youyou changed the song.