Chapter 39 Part 1

What a pathetic half-life. What a shameful half-life she dared not speak of.

It was clearly her who didn’t understand love, her who had been a coward, harming others and herself, yet she still had the nerve to point fingers at Du Heming. How ridiculous.

But she didn’t know what had come over her either.

Seeing the usually open-minded, ever-smiling Du Heming furrow her brows and look dejected had somehow stirred new worries in her heart.

Her tears came fast and left just as quickly.

Halfway through life, and she still hadn’t shaken this overly sentimental flaw.

Du Heming sent her a message: [Teacher He, I’m really sorry. I spoke without thinking—I didn’t mean to offend you. You know me: glib-tongued, sometimes not thinking before I speak, super thick-skinned.]

[I got what you said in the elevator. I’ve stumbled in love twice—once more than you.]

[For a long time, I thought I was just a blind, heartless idiot, a total fool. So for years after, I didn’t dare get into another relationship.]

[Not that I didn’t dare because I didn’t believe in it.]

[I believe in fate. I believe in love. Even if it’s bitter and painful, I still believe. The way I asked was poorly phrased. What I meant was, ‘Do you still believe in love?’]

[About your past, I swear I haven’t pried or gossiped with anyone. I only go by what you tell me, and I only believe what you say.]

[Teacher He, please forgive me. Even one word back would be fine.]

[You can be mad at me—don’t hide away and hurt alone, okay? ]

[The past isn’t worth it, and what makes us unhappy is even less so. Let’s both forget it—like we got bitten by a dog, alright? ]

[I’m the dog—a neurotic, spazzing-out silly mutt. Teacher He, don’t hold it against me. I really know I was wrong. My tail’s wagging off, and my eyes are crying blind.]

[Woof.]

[Woof woof.]

Before Du Heming’s [Woof woof woof] arrived, He Huan let out a long sigh and replied with three words: [Stop woofing.]

…

The noon dismissal bell rang just as Lou Yixuan and Lin Huayan stepped into the Art Office.

To block out the clamor, Lou Yixuan shut the door behind them.

“Teacher Lin, have a seat—right here at my spot. I’ll sort these paintings so you can take a look.”

Last week had been grading for cultural subjects’ exam papers, but it was also the midterms for art. After the test, Lou Yixuan collected all the works and took them to Haifan Art School the next day.

Different teachers in the same subject had varying grading standards, which could lead to differing scores for the same piece.

She’d taken them to Haifan and even invited the color theory supervisor for her group to help grade, mainly to humbly seek advice on recent trends in national art exam reforms and shifts in grading emphases.

After all, she’d been abroad for eight years, and online theories didn’t always match on-the-ground realities.

As she organized the color pieces into A, B, and C tiers on the empty desk, Lin Huayan, seated in her chair, spoke up.

“You and Teacher Du both avoid that male colleague like the plague—is there a reason?”

Lin Huayan referred to him as “that male colleague” without naming him.

He was a new teacher at Tianmu Middle School this year, with a prestigious master’s degree from a top school. Not local to Huai’an, but he’d taught a few years at a key high school back home.

Lou Yixuan stood by the wall, back to Lin Huayan, laying out the whole class’s midterm works in three tiers for display and explanation.

She paused, turned, leaned against the desk edge, and asked with a half-smile, “I have a question about that male colleague too, Teacher Lin. What do you think of his character?”

If Lin Huayan answered honestly, she’d do the same. If she dodged, so would Lou Yixuan.

Fair trade.

She couldn’t always be the open book while Lin Huayan stayed guarded.

Lin Huayan sat sideways in the office chair, eyes downcast in silence for a moment. “I know he loves chatting up female colleagues, but no improper behavior has surfaced. He’s single and tries building relationships with eligible single female colleagues through talk—if he stays self-restrained and courteous, it’s hardly a moral failing.”

“Self-restrained and courteous?” Lou Yixuan couldn’t help but chuckle. Lin Huayan was the most self-restrained and courteous person she’d ever met.

“…Did he do something to you?”

“Not really—I only come once a week; what could he do? He just added me on WeChat, using his relative’s kid wanting art lessons as an excuse to chat.”

Afraid her amusement showed too much, Lou Yixuan turned back, busying herself while joking, “When he added me, Teacher Du was there. Not even two weeks later, she called me late at night, begging me not to give him any encouragement. She said in just two months, he’d strutted like a peacock, hitting on every unmarried female teacher in the grade group.”

Including those with boyfriends but not married.

Du Heming’s exact words had also included “except those over thirty-five,” since the peacock had just hit thirty.

Lou Yixuan didn’t mention that.

In the first-year grade group, the only single women over thirty-five were Lin Huayan and He Huan.

“Back at the start of last month, he’d already asked me out to dinner twice on WeChat. I ignored both. Bringing it up again today, he probably thought I looked nice and approachable—maybe figured with colleagues around, I’d save face and say yes.”

She wasn’t falling for those petty tricks.

Even if Lin Huayan hadn’t “bailed her out,” she wouldn’t have given him face.

Being nice didn’t mean being a pushover. Nice depended on who it was for. She barely remembered his face after one meeting—what face was there to save?

Lin Huayan said gravely, “Got it. Just ignore him from now on.”

But inwardly, she planned to find time for a talk with him.

As grade director, she had a duty to correct and weed out bad influences in the teacher ranks.

From her tone, was Director Lin angry?

Was this tattling?

Lou Yixuan stifled a laugh, seizing the moment to turn back again.

She pushed her luck: “So… for Wednesday dinners from now on, will Teacher Lin keep joining me?”

History repeated silently, and Lou Yixuan healed herself again and again, ferrying her own soul.

No answer came, so she reflected: “Sorry, that was thoughtless of me. But please don’t worry, Teacher Lin—aside from Teacher Du, I haven’t told anyone else…”

Here, she spotted the loophole herself.

Her “secret” of liking women wasn’t just known to Du Heming—she’d told Lin Jianlu too.

Lin Huayan was different from He Huan.

Teacher He was seen as kindly and approachable by all; her closeness with Du Heming was just that—innocent.

But if a new teacher like her dragged the free-spirited Director Lin into the mortal fray, repeatedly breaking her norms, then she and Lin Huayan would inevitably become fodder for gossips’ tea-time chatter.

Not that pure friendships didn’t exist.

First, anything unusual breeds suspicion. Second, she couldn’t keep it pure.

No wall was airtight.

Once her orientation leaked, her close friend Lin Huayan would suffer for it.

Lightly, people would question her orientation; worse, call her hypocritical, ruining her reputation.

Lou Yixuan didn’t care.

She just feared Lin Huayan couldn’t pass her own heart’s test.

Adults had too much to weigh. Lou Yixuan was deeply troubled—stuck advancing or retreating, on the verge of illness.

She didn’t know if, after all these years with same-sex marriage legal, Lin Huayan would still choose solitude over accepting her as gay.

—Has Teacher Lin been on many blind dates? No one suitable…?

—Not many. Better none than a bad one. Mostly to ease my parents’ minds.

—No more after this. Running into another creep like the one blocking the school gate would be too stifling.

—I’m fine. Let them talk.

Lin Huayan was endlessly tolerant of others, but ruthlessly conservative with herself.

“My bad—I got carried away again.”

Lou Yixuan annoyedly smacked her forehead. “Teacher Lin stepping in at the cafeteria was just a quick fix. If I greedily demand more, wouldn’t that be repaying kindness with resentment?”

She dropped the dinner topic, swiftly arranged the three tiers of paintings, returned to her desk, and pulled throat lozenges from her bag.

After taking two herself, she offered the bottle to Lin Huayan: “To perk you up. I’ll keep the explanation simple.”

“…”

Lin Huayan was Class 9’s true homeroom teacher. Class 9 got into schools via culture scores + professional scores; she didn’t need mastery of other subjects, but a bit of knowledge never hurt.

She’d suggested viewing the paintings over lunch. No sketches or quick studies—just colors.

Her intentions were harder to hide by the day.

But viewing paintings was work; dinners were personal. Lunch was fine—they were four colleagues, no rumors.

Dinners just the two of them? Every Wednesday night? Harder to explain. Word would spread—one to ten, ten to a hundred—reaching No. 1 Middle School teachers. How to hide their “same-school teacher-student” past?

Gossip was fearsome.

Lou Yixuan’s career was just starting.

Her future was limitless.

“Teacher Lin?” Lou Yixuan shook the bottle as she spaced out.

“Hm?” Lin Huayan snapped back, taking the bottle but glancing at the label first. “Not finished yet?”

Lou Yixuan raised a brow: “How’d you know? Did I buy a new one?”

“…Did you? I thought you ate slow.”