Chapter 10

Lou Yixuan turned her back, wiped the dust off her earbud with her thumb from where it had fallen to the ground, then slipped it back into her ear. She ruffled her hair again, letting it fall over to conceal it.

The military training base didn’t have a plastic track like the playground at Tianmu Middle School. Instead, it featured patches of pure natural sandy soil alongside cemented areas.

Fortunately, the spot where she had been sketching was cemented—otherwise, the earbud rolling into the sand would have been filthy.

Lou Yixuan’s emotionless thanks, combined with her deliberate avoidance, sent a sharp stab of pain through Lin Huayan’s heart.

She could share earbuds with Du Heming, yet she wouldn’t let her touch them even once.

Was it because of last night?

Because I didn’t accept her invitation to come inside and sit, leaving her hopes dashed and filling her with intense negative emotions toward me.

Lin Huayan’s withdrawn hand clenched inward, nails digging into her palm.

She had intentionally skipped trimming them on time, so they were a bit longer than last week—making the pinch hurt even more.

After putting her earbuds back on, Lou Yixuan changed her mind. She didn’t return the hair tie to Du Heming but instead slipped it onto her left wrist, right up against her beige smartwatch.

The black and white pairing on her slender, pale wrist looked like a set of minimalist fashion accessories.

“Teacher Du, I’ve used the hair tie, so I won’t give it back. I’ll get you a new one next time.”

“It’s just a hair tie—keep it. Why swap old for new? Do I seem that stingy?”

“You don’t.”

The two chatted and laughed as if they weren’t meeting for only the third time.

Du Heming enthusiastically picked up Lou Yixuan’s heavier art bag and folding stool. “Teacher Lin, Teacher He, you two head to the cafeteria first. I’ll drop this stuff in the car with Teacher Lou and catch up.”

He Huan nodded. “Sure. We’ll wait for you at the cafeteria.”

In the parking lot, after stowing the items in the trunk, Lou Yixuan rolled her neck, stretched her arms and legs.

It was like morning exercises.

“It’s been a while since I sketched for so long. Pretty tiring.”

“Nowadays, work means either sitting or standing forever.” Du Heming leaned against the car, waiting for her to loosen up. “Once we’re down the mountain, let’s get a massage to treat ourselves.”

“Great idea.” Lou Yixuan was already planning to have Lu Lingxuan take her—Lu Lingxuan knew how to enjoy life and would be a pro at spots like that.

“Shall we? Head to the cafeteria for some food.”

Lou Yixuan had zero appetite, but she didn’t say it. She simply stepped toward the cafeteria.

Du Heming was outgoing and carefree, not the most perceptive—she didn’t notice anything off in Lou Yixuan’s mood.

“Today’s the last day of formal training. Tonight’s the variety show with impromptu student and instructor performances. Your Class 9 kids adore you, so keep that in mind—they might heckle you into doing a number.”

This wasn’t her first time bringing a class up for training; it happened often.

Last year, her students had shoved her onstage, and she’d butchered half of Little City Summer with her off-key voice.

Luckily, her kids had jumped in to save the day, singing the rest.

Halfway to the cafeteria, Lou Yixuan stopped abruptly, feigning seriousness. “Teacher Du, I’ve decided.”

Du Heming blinked at the sudden shift, caught off guard. “Decided what?”

“I’m going to make a run for it—nip it in the bud.”

“…!”

“So, Teacher Du, please tell Teacher Lin and Teacher He goodbye for me. See you tomorrow.”

“…?”

Unlike Du Heming, who stood there frozen like a wooden chicken, Lou Yixuan flashed a mischievous grin, her mood lifted. “You too, Teacher Du. See you tomorrow—good luck tonight.”

Good luck with what?!

“Teacher Lou, Lou Yixuan, wait—don’t!”

Du Heming wanted to slap herself silly, scrambling to hold her back. “Can’t we just…”

“No.”

Lou Yixuan shut it down firmly but waved with a smile. “Bye, Teacher Du!”

The little fairy marched off without a backward glance, leaving Du Heming flustered in place.

How was she supposed to explain this to Teacher Lin? Lou Yixuan hadn’t even eaten dinner yet.

Lou Yixuan walked briskly away. The real reason wasn’t stage fright—it was that she hadn’t adjusted her mindset for facing Lin Huayan.

She’d once believed time healed all wounds, and it had, briefly, during those eight years in Australia.

But every dawn and dusk since reuniting with Lin Huayan brought memories of her, of them, rising and falling like tides—impossible to hold back.

She loved her. That had never changed.

But to spare Lin Huayan distress, to let them coexist as normal colleagues, she had to pretend she didn’t.

Every encounter forced her into a mask of composure and restraint, hiding the storm inside.

Yet last night, all pretense shattered the moment the door closed.

Pretending not to love Lin Huayan is too damn hard.

She needed more time to reclaim her pre-last-night composure. Just one more night.

Du Heming sighed her way into the cafeteria, where Lin Huayan and He Huan had already gotten their meals. She wanted to burrow into the earth.

It felt like she’d lost their shared “priceless treasure.”

He Huan saw her moping and handed her a wet wipe. “Not much food left—figured you might miss out, so I got your usuals. Where’s Teacher Lou?”

“Uh, Teacher Lou—Little Lou—said she’d been sketching all day, body worn out, so she headed back to the guesthouse first.”

Du Heming wiped her hands quickly, sliding the tray with three portions next to Lin Huayan toward herself.

She forced a grin. “I’m starving today. Stomach’s got room.”

He Huan and Lin Huayan read her instantly—her own tray had only two portions.

Unexpectedly, Lin Huayan nudged the three-portion tray back a bit. “Don’t force it. I’ll handle it. Not much anyway.”

These three dishes were the ones she’d picked. One was a favorite of Lou Yixuan’s that Du Heming had never once chosen—broccoli.

When getting the food, He Huan had even asked if she wanted to call Teacher Lou. She’d said no need.

If we unluckily grab something she hates, we can swap—or I’ll eat it.

The zero-probability event she’d imagined.

It happened.

Mid-meal, guilt got the better of Du Heming, and she confessed. “Sorry, Teacher Lin. Truth is, I blabbed to Little Lou about how the kids might heckle her into performing tonight. She’s probably not used to it…”

“It’s fine, don’t sweat it. Better for her to rest early.” No need to “escort” Lou Yixuan back to the guesthouse tonight—she could return the car keys sooner too.

…

On the seventh day of training, per tradition, they held the review performance.

It started at nine sharp. Lou Yixuan arrived at eight-thirty, having checked out of her guesthouse room.

After parking, she voice-called Du Heming to locate them, then picked a Tree Hibiscus from the guesthouse courtyard and went to find them.

Du Heming spotted her, beaming with smiles as Lou Yixuan handed over the flower. “Teacher Du, Happy Teachers’ Day!”

It was Teachers’ Day, after all.

“Ah? Thanks. You…” Du Heming was caught off guard, staring at the flower. “Happy Teachers’ Day to you too. We share the joy.”

“I’m sorry—I was a bit willful yesterday evening, leaving like that. I brought this flower today to apologize. Please forgive me, Teacher Du.”

Lou Yixuan’s eyes shone with sincerity, owning her impulsiveness.

Before leaving, she’d considered picking a rose for each female teacher to wish them Happy Teachers’ Day.

But it felt too performative.

And what they’d do with her roses would become their “headache.”

She hated causing trouble.

So she’d settled on one Tree Hibiscus.

“Such a small thing—you didn’t do anything wrong. Why apologize?”

Du Heming truly didn’t blame her for leaving early, so it hadn’t weighed on her at all.

Lou Yixuan wasn’t even the homeroom teacher—no obligation to stay for the evening show.

As for Teacher Lin’s extra food she’d eaten, she hadn’t told Lou Yixuan to avoid making her feel guilty.

It was on her.

She’d feel the guilt and find a way to “make it up” to Teacher Lin.

“Examine myself three times a day—learned that in high school.”

Lou Yixuan linked arms with Du Heming, heading to the training field. “First time being a teacher, first time hanging with so many colleagues and students. I mess up sometimes.”

Self-reflection, and reflecting on others.

“You’re doing great already. Grade-level teachers and students all like you.”

“So I owe you even more thanks, Teacher Du—for all your care, making it easy for me to relax around everyone.”

Without Du Heming smoothing things over these past days, her sudden situation would’ve been tougher.

After all, how could she count on Lin Huayan?

Du Heming was flattered. “I fumbled my way too. Stick around a few years, it’ll get smooth. Take it easy.”

They walked into the training field side by side. Class 9 students spotted Lou Yixuan and shouted “Happy Teachers’ Day, Teacher Lou!” in a frenzy.

She waved back. “Thanks! Can’t wait for your performances.”

Lin Huayan, as grade director, had more duties than Du Heming and the others. She wasn’t with the class lines but down by the main stage, prepping her off-script speech for the closing ceremony.

The students’ rowdy cheers drew her attention—and gaze—to the far side of the training field behind her.

She turned to look. Two young, beautiful female teachers were surrounded by students, all beaming.

Too far to hear, but she could see: everyone was laughing. Lou Yixuan was laughing too.

And Du Heming held a striking, perfectly bloomed pink flower unlike any at the base.