Teething Stick

"If you run into any difficulties, remember to message me and let me know. Don't worry that I'll find it troublesome. I'm your counselor."

"Every class has a counselor for a reason. It's not just to help you solve problems with your studies; more importantly, it's to look after you in your daily lives. College is different from high school. We care less about your grades now and more about helping you grow into adults."

In the office, Li Na sent whatever came to mind. Her greatest hope for Mo Jingchun wasn't that he would achieve great things during his four years of college or bring glory to the university. All she hoped was that four years from now, he would graduate smoothly with four-year-old Candy by his side. It was as simple as that.

But for Li Na, who had only two years of experience as a counselor, this was still a challenge.

Mo Jingchun's younger sister, Candy, was not yet a year old. She couldn't walk or run, and as long as someone held her and kept her company, she was very well-behaved.

In another year or two, when the little one grew up and could run and jump, that would be the most troublesome time. After all, it was a child's nature to be active.

Would such an energetic little one really be willing to sit quietly in a classroom all day with her older brother, Mo Jingchun?

Most likely not.

Li Na had been in a pretty good mood, but when she thought again about the problems they would face in the next year or two, worry crept back in.

Ding-dong~

"Got it, Na Jie. If I really run into trouble, you'll absolutely be the first person I go to. Haha ୧⍢⃝୨"

Only after seeing Mo Jingchun's WeChat message did a smile return to Li Na's face. Problems themselves weren't scary. What she feared was students having problems but not going to their counselor for help, leaving those problems unresolved until they finally came to light—by which point it was too late.

This was especially true every year when third-year students were about to take the graduate school entrance exam, and after the exams were over. Those were the busiest times for counselors at universities across the country, and the times they were most likely to lose sleep.

Even at Jing University, it was the same. To be sure, Jing University students were more capable than most college students, but when it came to graduate school, who would willingly take a step down?

Would a Jing University student be willing to pursue graduate studies at an ordinary First-Tier University?

It couldn't be ruled out, but 99 percent of Jing University students would rather start working after graduation than choose that path.

In this fast-paced, rapidly developing society, mental health problems had become a serious issue.

It was better when they were spotted in time. The fear was that by the time anyone noticed, it would already be too late.

After class that afternoon, Mo Jingchun took out his phone, which he'd switched to silent mode, and saw several missed calls and a few WeChat messages.

Feeling uneasy, Mo Jingchun didn't even have time to pack up his textbooks before hurriedly checking who had called.

When he saw that all the missed calls were from the same person, he inexplicably breathed a sigh of relief, and a smile appeared on his face.

There was no other reason. Every red-marked missed call had come from his maternal grandfather, whom Mo Jingchun had saved in his contacts as "Old Rascal."

He opened WeChat and checked the messages. As expected, they were from his older uncle. Looking at the chat history, he saw that every few minutes, his uncle had asked why he wasn't answering.

Mo Jingchun's grandfather was old and didn't know how to use a smartphone. He still used an elderly person's phone, the kind with especially large buttons and a very loud speaker. What's more, that phone had been a free gift when he topped up his mobile balance, and he'd been using it for two or three years.

Mo Jingchun pressed the voice-message button and spoke into the phone's microphone:

"Older Uncle, I was still in class just now. I only just got out, and I'd put my phone on silent before class."

"I'll call you on video once I get back to the dorm."

After sending the two voice messages, Mo Jingchun held his sister on his lap with one arm while using the other to tidy up the things on the desk.

That was how Mo Jingchun was: he chose different ways to reply to different people on WeChat. When messaging older relatives, he usually sent voice messages; with younger people, he almost always typed.

As he carried his sister along a campus path, Mo Jingchun had recently found a new use for his backpack straps: they helped him support Candy when he held her.

Back in the dorm, Mo Jingchun set down his backpack and canvas bag, then carried his sister into the living room and sat on the sofa. He called his older uncle, Zhou Xing, on WeChat Video.

Ever since his grandmother passed away, his grandfather had lived with his older uncle. He had never stayed at his Younger Uncle's home. As for why, Mo Jingchun truly didn't know. His mother had never talked about it in front of him when she was alive.

Mo Jingchun didn't understand. Logically, his older uncle and Younger Uncle should have taken turns looking after their grandfather, but that wasn't what happened at all.

Of course, what Mo Jingchun found hardest to understand was that his older uncle's wife had never complained about it in front of anyone.

There was a reason Mo Jingchun had saved his grandfather's number as "Old Rascal."

Well, the old man was already getting on in years. He'd overworked himself when he was young and ended up with a host of ailments. Then, as he got older, all kinds of serious and minor illnesses caught up with him, and his health had long since deteriorated. The last time Mo Jingchun visited, he'd seen his grandfather walk just a short distance before gasping for breath, as if he couldn't get enough air.

And yet the old man still craved cigarettes—tobacco he'd grown himself back in the day, with a cigarette holder he'd made himself from a bamboo root.

Even knowing his health was poor, if you told him to rest at home or go out for a stroll, he'd insist on going to do manual labor instead. Then he'd end up in the hospital getting injections, and the whole cycle would repeat. No matter what anyone said, nothing worked.

The video-call connection tone yanked Mo Jingchun's wandering thoughts back, and a close-up of his older uncle Zhou Xing's face appeared on the phone screen.

"Classes are over?"

"Yeah, I just got back to the dorm."

Mo Jingchun propped the phone against the coffee table and made sure to get his younger sister Candy in the frame too.

"Candy, did you miss your uncle?"

"Oh, you little thing, where are you looking? I'm over here."

When he saw Candy, the usually composed expression on Mo Jingchun's older uncle Zhou Xing's face broke into a broad smile.

"Has your brother been taking good care of you? If he hasn't, when you come back for the New Year, Uncle will give him a beating."

Zhou Xing chatted away to Candy, who could only say "Guo-ge," while Mo Jingchun's mouth twitched.

They were both family—so why did he have to be the one getting beaten?

After teasing Candy for a while, Zhou Xing looked at Mo Jingchun and said, "Your grandfather had nothing better to do again, so he made Candy a teething stick out of prickly ash wood. It's finished now, and he insists on mailing it to you. That's what he called you about this afternoon."

"Talk to him yourself."