Chapter 11

The review performance ended, and the students headed to the cafeteria for lunch in perfect order. After the meal, they had half an hour to rest before the buses arrived at one o’clock to take them down the mountain.

During the wait for the buses, Lin Huayan never stopped working.

All morning, Lou Yixuan and the busy Lin Huayan had barely exchanged a proper word.

It wasn’t until the nine buses pulled into the base one after another, and each class teacher took charge of their students, that Lin Huayan finally caught a break.

She loaded her luggage onto the bus, then got off to wait nearby.

Summer clothes were light and easy to pack—a few outfits didn’t weigh much or take up space. A carry-on bag was far more practical than a suitcase, easy to grab and go.

At least, that was her thinking.

Others thought differently, like Du Heming, who had both a suitcase and a travel bag.

The buses for Class 8 and Class 9 were parked side by side. Du Heming stuffed her suitcase into the luggage compartment of the bus, and as she boarded with her bag, she placed the Tree Hibiscus Lou Yixuan had given her on the seat as well.

Outside the bus, Lou Yixuan stood beside Lin Huayan, watching the students board while occasionally reminding them not to forget their things.

A doll-faced girl with shoulder-length hair paused in front of Lou Yixuan, backpack and all. “Teacher Lou.”

“Hm? What’s up?”

“In the paintings you did yesterday, one of them was a close-up of the military posture demo… it was me. I was wondering…”

The girl’s reluctant request was hard to voice.

But Lou Yixuan understood immediately and smiled. “You want that painting? Of course. I’ll bring it to school next Wednesday.”

“Thank you, Teacher Lou!”

A sweet smile bloomed on the girl’s face, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.

She pulled her backpack around to the front, unzipped it, and took out two handmade red velvet roses. “Teacher Lou, Teacher Lin—Happy Teachers’ Day! I made these myself.”

It was the first time in her life Lou Yixuan had received a Teachers’ Day gift from a student. Without a second thought, she took it, beaming. “Thank you! So much care went into these—I love them.”

Lin Huayan accepted hers right after. “Thank you.”

“As long as you like them.” The girl ducked her head shyly, slung her backpack on, and boarded the bus.

She had prepared the two flowers before the trip, originally planning to give one to her homeroom teacher and one to her Chinese teacher on Teachers’ Day itself. Lou Yixuan had been an unexpected delight for her—no, for the whole class.

After some deliberation, the scales tipped toward the teacher who had painted her so beautifully, so she gave the gift to Lou Yixuan first.

She had been nervous handing it over.

The homeroom teacher had emphasized at the start-of-term meeting that they wouldn’t accept gifts from students or their parents on any holiday, and to pass that on to parents.

Thank goodness—the homeroom teacher accepted it without scolding her or making her feel mortified.

“Wow.”

Du Heming exclaimed as she came down from the bus, spotting the roses in Lou Yixuan and Lin Huayan’s hands. She leaned in for a closer look. “How come our class doesn’t have a crafty little sweetheart like that?”

“But no worries, I’ve got flowers too.”

She bumped Lou Yixuan’s shoulder playfully, raising a brow. “Fate brings people together even from afar. It’s your first Teachers’ Day, Little Teacher Lou—heading down the mountain together, grabbing a bite? The grade group has a dinner tonight. Come with?”

Dinner?

Lou Yixuan’s heart skipped a beat.

Her body reacted before her brain did. She turned to look at Lin Huayan.

Lin Huayan’s gaze lingered on the velvet rose in her own hand, lost in thought.

“Nah, I’m not Tianmu Middle School staff. It’d be awkward if I went.”

Lou Yixuan lightly touched Du Heming’s arm, giving an almost imperceptible shake of her head—a hint to drop the topic.

She was from another school…

“What Tianmu or not,” Du Heming ignored the hint and turned to Lin Huayan. “What do you think, Teacher Lin? Lou Lou’s your class’s teacher—is it not okay?”

Haifan and Tianmu were collaborators. Lou Yixuan taught the same class as Lin Huayan—surely they wouldn’t exclude her from a simple meal?

As grade director, Lin Huayan had the most say on dinner arrangements.

Du Heming meant well. These past few days, she’d watched Lin Huayan keep Lou Yixuan at arm’s length, and it made her anxious.

If everyone saw the grade director brushing off the Haifan art teacher like that, Lou Yixuan’s future dealings at the school might get complicated.

People might even start gossiping.

The art program in schools was experimental—Tianmu’s first art pilot class was still in trial phase.

Harmony between academic and art teachers was key to everyone’s happiness and efficient teaching.

“No issue at all.”

Just as Lou Yixuan cringed, wanting to cover Du Heming’s mouth, she heard Lin Huayan speak up.

And she didn’t sound forced into it.

“Teacher Du, send Little Teacher Lou the time and place for dinner tonight. Or Teacher Lou, you can drive back to school first, and once the buses arrive, we’ll head over together.”

“Lou Lou?”

Du Heming nudged the stunned Lou Yixuan, her nicknames flipping. “Little Teacher Lou, hear that? That’s our Lin Director personally inviting you.”

The velvet rose seemed to come alive, its color more vivid, like a flame igniting from her fingertips to her heart.

Her fingers brushed it aimlessly, but what she felt wasn’t unfamiliar texture—it was a familiar tremor.

From her heartbeat.

Smiling at Lin Huayan, she said, “Great, I’ll join you all. Thanks, Teacher Lin.”

Even if it was just ordinary courtesy on the edge of propriety, one she wanted versus one Lin Huayan offered meant something entirely different.

…

Lou Yixuan drove down the mountain faster than the buses and arrived at school first.

Once the buses pulled up, the homeroom teachers counted heads and announced a four-day holiday, dismissing the students on the spot.

Du Heming voice-called Lou Yixuan: “Lou Lou, where are you?”

“In the Art Office. You guys done?”

It was hotter in the city, so after getting back, she’d headed to the office for the AC and touched up her makeup.

So many people at dinner—she wanted to look her best.

“Yeah, four days off ahead—feels amazing.” Du Heming walked toward the Dormitory Building. “Don’t rush. I’ll swing by my dorm first, then hit you up when I’m heading down.”

“I’ll wait in the office then.”

“Hey, why don’t you come to my dorm? See how a single, unmarried older teacher lives—total hardship or total bliss, haha.”

“Hardship” nearly slipped out, but she swapped it for “bliss.”

Du Heming was pretty content with her life right now. Her parents weren’t.

They called her unambitious, coasting by, squandering a good hand. Great job for marrying well, yet she chased “same-sex romance.”

Independence at best, self-sabotage at worst—eating bitterness that wasn’t there.

Fed up, Du Heming avoided going home.

Lou Yixuan knew where the Dormitory Building was but had never been inside. Du Heming’s “temptation” piqued her curiosity.

Because Lin Huayan lived there too.

“Sure, wait for me—I’m coming now.”

On the other end, once the call ended, Du Heming realized too late how she’d muddleheadedly lured the “little fairy” to her dog kennel.

She slapped her thigh hard, wishing she could weld an airtight iron gate over her mouth.

Good thing salvation arrived.

“Teacher Lin, done so quick?”

Du Heming cheerfully greeted Lin Huayan, who had dismissed her class fastest and hadn’t waited for the other female teachers.

Lin Huayan glanced down at the flower Du Heming had carried from mountain to city, unable to let go. “Mm. Why not head up?”

She recognized that flower.

Tree Hibiscus.

It was in the sketchbook Lou Yixuan had given her.

“Waiting for someone. Little Lou’s been alone in the office a while, so I invited her to hang at the dorm. We’re eating together anyway.”

Lin Huayan didn’t reply, just nodded slightly and swiped her card to light up the express elevator to the teachers’ dorm floors.

The building had 12 floors total, structured as one but divided by a thick partition wall. Male and female dorm entrances were at opposite ends, with separate elevators and stairs.

Floors 1-6 were student dorms; 7 and up, teacher dorms.

Floors 10-12 were single rooms for homeroom teachers and administrators.

Floors 7-9 were double rooms subject teachers could apply for—handy for midday naps or late classes, cutting commute time.

The display numbers ticked down from 11. As they shrank, Lin Huayan’s palms clenched tighter.

“Lou Lou, over here.”

Du Heming’s shout made Lin Huayan’s suspended heart finally “die.”

The elevator reached the first floor. She stepped in, swiped for floor 11, and held the door open.

“Why the rush? I wouldn’t leave without you. Though…” Du Heming eyed the elevator entrance. “Gotta hurry now.”

Lin the Big Director’s waiting in there for us.

“I don’t like keeping people waiting, and I don’t like being kept waiting.” Lou Yixuan’s voice came breathless. “What floor are you on, Teacher Du?”

“11th. Teacher Lin’s on 11 too—been there six or seven years at least.”

“Six or seven years?”

Du Heming lowered her voice. “From what I know, Teacher Lin’s been a homeroom teacher every year—sometimes straight through senior year, sometimes from freshman. So her dorm’s fixed, been years.”

Years.

Senior years, over and over.

So those countless white hairs came from burning the midnight oil like that?

Lou Yixuan’s chest tightened, aching fiercely.

The next second, rounding the corner to see Lin Huayan in the elevator froze her breath.

Beep—

The timeout chime sounded for the elevator doors not fully closing.

Trailing behind, Du Heming steadied Lou Yixuan’s shoulder and nudged her in, teasing, “What, cat got your tongue? Elevators don’t bite.”

Subtext: Neither does Teacher Lin.

Elevators.

In those three years, Lou Yixuan and Lin Huayan had shared countless elevator rides.

They hadn’t talked much in them, but…

Whenever she stepped into one, no matter where or when, Lin Huayan came into sharp focus.

She remembered their first hand-hold in an elevator, the first time Lin Huayan’s arm wrapped her waist, the first time she caught Lin Huayan’s scent up close…

All to dodge other passengers, sure.

But none were innocent.

Every time, enveloped by Lin Huayan’s presence in that cramped space, Lou Yixuan wanted to throw caution to the wind—hug her, kiss her, make her wet.

She’d held back so long.

Held back even after putting Lin Huayan on the bed until she begged for mercy. Never once acted on it.

Regrettable.

Probably never would in this lifetime.

Two elevators, each holding no more than ten people. The space was tight, quiet enough to hear Lou Yixuan’s ragged breaths she desperately tried to steady.

“Panting like that—you clearly don’t exercise enough.”

Lou Yixuan smiled back at Du Heming, pointing to the flower between her fingers. “It’s wilting. Time to toss it.”

Du Heming twirled the flower, inspecting it. “How can you throw away something this beautiful? Give it water—might last longer. I’ve got a vase in my dorm. Let’s try.”

“Right, you’re the chem teacher—sure you can revive it. You know how to emergency-aid a flower, a plant, a tree.” Lou Yixuan brushed a petal.

“Well, chem teachers aren’t that miraculous. That ‘miraculous recovery’ stuff? Only real gardeners pull it off.”

Lou Yixuan chuckled, letting the “hot” chat drop—Lin Huayan was there.

“By the way, this elevator needs a card swipe. Only school staff cards work.” Du Heming thought ahead: once Lou Yixuan started teaching here, she could nap in her dorm at lunch or dusk.

“Lou Lou, got your school card? Give it a try.”

“…” Lou Yixuan hesitated, wondering if she should even test it.

The three art teachers were outsiders, after all. Popping into the teachers’ dorm freely might raise eyebrows.

Today was pure curiosity gone overboard. If she’d known she’d run into Lin Huayan…

“Teacher Cards have default elevator access.”

Lin Huayan cleared up Du Heming’s confusion—and saved Lou Yixuan from awkwardness. She’d seen Lou Yixuan’s card.

Du Heming went, “Oh.”

Puzzled how Lin Huayan was so sure Lou Yixuan’s was a Teacher Card.

What if it was a staff card, or a student card?

Lin Huayan lived in Room 1107, while Du Heming lived in Room 1109. For Lou Yixuan to go with Du Heming to 1109, they had to pass by 1107 first.

“Room 1107—Teacher Lin’s dorm,” Du Heming said, pausing. “I live right next door to Teacher Lin, in 1109.”

The odd- and even-numbered dorms were split along both sides of the corridor, with 07 and 09 sharing a wall as next-door neighbors.

By now, Lin Huayan had stopped walking too. Lou Yixuan trailed silently behind Du Heming as they continued on.

But just as they reached the door to Room 1109, Du Heming swiped her card. Then, in one swift motion, she spun around, grabbed Lou Yixuan by the shoulders, and shoved her straight toward Lin Huayan’s dorm door.

“Lou Lou, why don’t you go take a peek at Teacher Lin’s room first? Just wait five minutes for me—five minutes, that’s all!”