Chapter 80

Lin Huayan’s hand was completely different from her icy personality—always warm and soft. Lou Yixuan had held it many times before and found herself reluctant to let go each time.

The last time at home, Lin Huayan had grabbed her out of urgency, so she hadn’t made a fuss or dwelled on it.

They held hands, and that was that.

She pulled away, and they went back to being strangers.

But this time, it was like an electric current surged from their palms, racing through Lou Yixuan’s entire body.

Dazed and at a loss, she let Lin Huayan lead her forward, her heart pounding fast—yet it also ached.

Her gaze involuntarily fixed on their clasped hands, as if the whole world had been muted in that instant. All she could hear was the wind and the thump of her heartbeat.

Over the past few months, she had wandered through mountains and rivers, capturing the lakes and landscapes of their homeland on her canvases amid spring breezes.

She had listened to the wind rustling through swaying grass, whispering over rippling wheat fields, dancing with blooming spring flowers, and crashing with ocean waves.

But only this moment’s wind left her so disoriented yet so reluctant to let go.

Because this wind carried Lin Huayan’s scent—and the tremor of her heart.

And those moments when they had almost loved each other were swept into the horizon by the wind—so close, yet so far.

Lin Huayan was like the wind, like clouds, like stars, like the moon.

No matter where she went, whether moving forward or standing still, looking up or down—Lin Huayan was everywhere in her world.

After crossing the street, Lin Huayan still didn’t let go. Lou Yixuan stubbornly halted, stubbornly trying to pull her hand free once more.

She hated Lin Huayan’s ambiguous overtures, hated her unclear concern.

Especially after she had confessed her love time and again, only to be coldly rejected.

“Yixuan, don’t bother me.”

Right now, more captivating than the wind were the ripples in Lin Huayan’s eyes as she looked at her. No need to reach out—that burning, tender gaze already enveloped her gently.

If her life’s revival had a keyword, she thought it would be “Lin Huayan”—and only “Lin Huayan.”

Even after witnessing the rise and fall of so much flora, even seeing the remnants left by dandelions after they drifted away, when the breeze whispered again and the flowers of her heart bloomed wildly once more, she still wanted to gaze into the sea in Lin Huayan’s eyes.

Perhaps her life held more than one revival.

Once again, she yielded, sinking into the ocean in Lin Huayan’s gaze.

Lin Huayan led Lou Yixuan to a restaurant she had never been to before.

Nestled in an old residential area, it was converted from a first-floor home. The storefront looked small, with only a handful of long tables in the hall—but it was bigger on the inside.

Rustic decor led to room after room of private booths, each designed for 1-6 people.

“This is a private chef’s small tavern, hidden away in the city. It only serves customers who book at least a day in advance.”

“…” So Lin Huayan asking her to dinner wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment thing?

If she hadn’t agreed today, wouldn’t all the pre-booked food have gone to waste?

No wonder Lin Huayan insisted on waiting for her—it left no escape for either of them.

Lou Yixuan was fuming when Lin Huayan added, “I heard about it from other teachers. This is my second time. Last time was to sample the dishes—I think you’ll like the flavors.”

“…” How could she stay mad now?

Lin Huayan had put so much thought and heart into this meal, laying it all bare, leaving Lou Yixuan disoriented.

The Lin Huayan before her felt so strange—like she had multiple personalities. Or maybe amnesia, forgetting what happened that night at the Hot Spring Resort, the things they did and said.

But no, that didn’t fit.

Lin Huayan had said she bit her twice, so she remembered that night.

“Ms. Lin, this way please.”

Led by the server, they entered the reserved booth at the very back. Sliding open the wooden door released a faint, serene rose fragrance.

“Please wait a moment, the dishes will be out soon.”

Lin Huayan nodded, then seized Lou Yixuan’s momentary distraction to take her hand again and step inside. “Which side do you want to sit on?”

“Whatever.”

Lou Yixuan wasn’t in high spirits and picked the right side at random, already moving to pull her hand away and sit.

But Lin Huayan said, “I’ll sit with you.”

“…” There was plenty of space if they sat apart—why squeeze together? “Teacher Lin, you don’t have to do this. Since I came, I won’t run off midway.”

“It’s not that I’m afraid you’ll run today.”

Lin Huayan squeezed her fingers, lifting them slightly while lowering her eyes. “Yixuan, I have so many regrets, but I don’t know how to express them to you.”

The moment Lin Huayan mentioned “regrets,” Lou Yixuan yanked her hand free decisively, without hesitation.

She sat down straight away, offering a polite smile. “Teacher Lin is overthinking it. We’ve never had any relationship—nothing owed between us…”

“No relationship at all?”

Lou Yixuan froze for a second. “Sorry, my logic wasn’t precise. There is a relationship: teacher-student eight years ago, colleagues now. In both, you’ve looked out for me more. If anyone’s indebted, it’s me to you.”

“Fine, say you owe me.”

“…?”

Was Lin Huayan smiling? Why was she smiling? How could she smile?

Lou Yixuan ignored her, grabbing two napkins to wipe the table.

Before she could wipe twice, her hand was held down. Lin Huayan sat beside her. “Let me do it.”

Lou Yixuan recoiled as if startled.

The napkin lay abandoned on the table, taken over by Lin Huayan, who continued wiping.

The booth was truly small—no windows, sofa fixed against the wall. Plenty of room for one, but Lin Huayan insisted on crowding her.

Lou Yixuan fished out her phone from her pocket, subtly scooting rightward, inch by inch, just to put some distance between them.

Seeing her pressed against the wall, Lin Huayan felt a flicker of pity for one or two seconds—maybe she should sit on the other side to not ruin Lou Yixuan’s meal.

But the hesitation vanished. She stayed planted firmly beside Lou Yixuan, unwilling to move an inch away.

It wasn’t shamelessness; she was just… following her heart.

A glass vase on the table held nine white roses. Lou Yixuan counted them covertly with her peripheral vision. Nine—for eternity?

“The floral arrangements are a tradition here—every booth has them, tailored to the occasion. I didn’t know which color roses you prefer, so I had them get white ones.”

The flowers were tradition, but nine wasn’t—and she’d paid extra.

White roses.

Symbolizing pure, true love without impurities; a promise, a new beginning.

Lou Yixuan had painted many flowers and knew their languages by heart from high school days.

In her Flower Face sketchbook, the rose she’d given Lin Huayan was white, not red.

“You went to trouble.” She replied flatly, then played her Match-3 Game to pass the time.

Lin Huayan didn’t speak again, even shifting slightly farther away.

It was an awkward meal.

That was Lou Yixuan’s inner thought.

On the way back after eating, they passed a convenience store.

“Wait a sec.”

Lin Huayan didn’t explain what for—just made Lou Yixuan wait while she bought two bottles of watermelon-flavored throat lozenges.

She asked for a plastic bag and stowed the now-unneeded parasol inside.

She unscrewed one bottle, then recapped it and handed it over. “Your spring.”

Looking at the lozenges, hearing those words, and recalling that rainy autumn night last year—Lou Yixuan’s eyes heated up.

Sour and swollen.

She turned and bolted, striding fast.

But this was her first time here, led by the hand the whole way, no map in her mind. Soon she was lost, wandering at a crossroad.

Dusk fell; memories flooded.

Flashes from the past flickered, the feelings here mirroring that stormy March day this year.

Spring storms.

Spring could have them too.

Unable to find a reason to cry, she needed a downpour—a rain to soak her eyes. It could be spring, summer, any season, any day.

A tidal surge rose in her chest.

Lead filled her bones, needles in her throat; she grew heavier, more suffocated, plummeting into endless void.

Is my soul detaching?

On this glorious sunset evening, she seemed to see moss along the curb cradling raindrops like bruises blooming into silver-white flowers.

Spring’s discarded sketches, the spring longed for by the lost.

She never waited for her favorite flower to bloom, but she saw countless buds cradling warm breezes.

And watched them wither in season after season of returning cold.

“Yixuan.” Lin Huayan caught up, grabbing her wrist, guilt in her voice. “Sorry, did I…”

“Teacher Lin.”

Before her vitality scattered like clouds in wind, before hopelessness consumed her, Lin Huayan saved her again—yanking her from the abyss back to reality.

This storm of life was like recurring cancer cells, always trapping an exhausted winter cicada.

The cicada that couldn’t break free would be buried in sick soil, beside a half-upright dead tree, building its nest there.

Perhaps, on some distant night, or next spring’s bloom, it could rally, find direction, crawl from the frozen earth, and fly… to where it belonged.

But where did she belong?

Lou Yixuan bowed her head like a lost child, taking Lin Huayan’s hand. “I can’t find the way. Let’s go back.”

She’d held it together all day—no tears.

But only until that second, because the next, Lin Huayan hugged her.

“Sorry, sorry—it’s my fault.”

Lin Huayan stroked her hair, fighting the urge to kiss her forehead, settling for gentle comfort.

At least they held hands, at least she was in her arms again.

A few undignified tears fell quietly. Still stifled, Lou Yixuan gripped Lin Huayan’s waist harder, rumpling her shirt more to vent.

She was shameless enough to show up in class with cracked lips unhidden—what did she have to fear?

Fuming, Lou Yixuan wanted to bite her shoulder again. Too bad dinner had smudged her lipstick, or she’d leave a mark.

To see just how thick-skinned she could be.

After the hug, Lou Yixuan pulled back; May’s sunset had evaporated her tear tracks.

Lin Huayan’s dark green-gray satin blouse bore the wet stains. She frowned halfheartedly. “Sorry, your shoulder’s wet.”

“It’s fine. Let me see your face.”

“…?”

“Your eye makeup didn’t smudge. Don’t move—I’ll wipe it. Gently.”

Lou Yixuan was the subtle, jade-like beauty; a touch of makeup highlighted her features and elegant aura.

She loved beauty, always mindful of her appearance. After years in Australia influenced by Kinla, her standards grew even more exacting.

So she sat still, letting Lin Huayan clean the smudges around her eyes.

So close.

Close enough to see the small cut on Lin Huayan’s lower lip, dark red—like velvet rose petals.

Like…

Watermelon ice cream.

Suddenly, she regretted it—the midday office outburst, her emotional attack.

“Lin Huayan.” As Lin Huayan’s fingers left her face, she called.

“Hm?” Lin Huayan gazed at her, eyes soft.

“You… what’s with you today? Lou Yixuan didn’t even know what she was asking or what answer she wanted.

“What’s with me today?” Lin Huayan smiled back, tossing the question. “Don’t you know?”

“…” If she knew, why ask?

“No rush—you’ll know. Let’s head back to school first.”

It was past working hours, and both the cars on the road and the people along the roadside had grown more numerous.

A few students from Tianmu Middle School were among the pedestrians too, though it was hard to say if any were from Class 9 or the first-year high schoolers.

Lou Yixuan pulled back a little. “You lead the way. I’ll walk on my own.”

She was a grown woman, after all—yet she’d broken down over something as silly as “getting lost,” letting Lin Huayan hug and soothe her, then lead her by the hand. It was mortifying.

Lin Huayan didn’t rush off. Instead, she pulled a bottle of throat lozenges from her bag. “Want some candy?”

Why is she so fixated on giving me candy?

With that thought, Lou Yixuan extended her hand. “Give it here.”

“No need to hold back on eating them.” Lin Huayan placed the bottle in her palm. “Any time of year, all four seasons—I’ll buy you as many as you want.”

One year… four seasons.

Lou Yixuan’s mood that day felt like riding a hot air balloon, teased by Lin Huayan until she was dizzy and floaty all at once.

She was lost—thoroughly lost.

She couldn’t make out north from south, east from west. Couldn’t even tell if she was dreaming… or still dreaming.

“Let’s go, cross at the light.” Lin Huayan held out her hand again.

Lou Yixuan’s mind went blank. Her only instinct was obedience: she lifted her hand and placed it in Lin Huayan’s.

The toxic one wasn’t Lu Lingxuan. It was Lin Huayan.

Lin Huayan had poisoned her badly. She was a puppet now—mindless, will-less—only able to follow wherever Lin Huayan led her.

Doomed. I’m doomed again.

Back at school, Lin Huayan had planned to return the umbrella to Zhang Xiao in the Art Classroom herself, but Lou Yixuan stopped her and snatched it away.

“I’ll take it to her for you. You’ve shown up in the Art Classroom way too many times today.”

“Have I?”