Chapter 15

Lin Huayan and the other two took a cab back to school, arriving at 9:30 PM.

As they rode the elevator in the dormitory building, Du Heming asked He Huan, “Teacher He, are you heading home tomorrow?”

“Yeah, my dad’s getting on in years and retired early. He refuses to live with my brother and sister-in-law, so whenever we have free time, we take turns going back to keep him company.”

“Sigh, compared to you, I’m such an unfilial daughter.”

Lin Huayan: “…”

He Huan didn’t catch her meaning and softly asked, “What do you mean?”

“My mom and dad can still give me a good ‘mixed doubles’ beating even now. Not literally hitting me, but that high-intensity mental whipping. Every time I go home, they leave my soul torn from my body. You think I dare go back?”

“Teacher Du, I’ve noticed you’re…” He Huan trailed off, bursting into laughter.

Du Heming was the most entertaining person she knew. With her around, the mood never soured, and there was never a shortage of fun.

“Noticed what about me? Don’t leave me hanging!” Du Heming demanded, eyes wide.

“Grinning like an idiot, cracking dumb jokes, talking nonsense, totally unserious.” Lin Huayan landed the finishing blow.

“…” Du Heming’s face fell instantly. “Teacher Lin, I’m pouring out my woes here. If you won’t pity me, fine—but why rub salt in the wound?”

“Aren’t you already soul-torn-from-body? Where’s it gonna hurt now?”

“…” Damn my loose lips, Du Heming thought, letting out a long sigh. “Teacher He, I’m about to die of anger. Quick, pinch me for some emergency aid.”

He Huan couldn’t stop laughing but played along seriously. “Sure, where should I pinch?”

Du Heming extended her left hand to He Huan while fanning herself with her right. “Take my pulse, Doctor He.”

Du Heming’s antics lightened the elevator mood. Lin Huayan’s pale face flushed a bit with improved spirits, and the gloom weighing on her heart lifted somewhat.

Lin Huayan and Du Heming got off on the 11th floor; He Huan continued to the 12th.

As they neared Room 1107, Du Heming spoke up again. “Teacher Lin, feeling better? You aren’t mad at me, right?”

“No. You…”

“Then good night. Sweet dreams, Teacher Lin.”

Not long after they each returned to their rooms, Lin Huayan—fresh from her shower—sat on the edge of her bed and checked her phone, tapping into Moments.

Du Heming had posted a new update, featuring the Wood Hibiscus Flower Lou Yixuan had given her, now in a vase with water.

It looked healthier than when she’d seen it in the elevator earlier.

The caption read: Flowers have a limited bloom—soil or water, it doesn’t matter. Flourish to the fullest, or what’s the point?

Lin Huayan liked it.

Almost at the exact same moment as Lou Yixuan.

But they couldn’t see each other’s actions. Because they still weren’t WeChat friends.

Exiting Moments, Lin Huayan opened her WeChat favorites. At the top was that four-person group photo under the sunset.

It was a great shot.

People who were scenery in themselves looked beautiful no matter how you photographed them.

Switching back to the chat interface, she messaged Qin Fengru: 【Shopping tomorrow? Coming?】

…

Late September, Wednesday—Lou Yixuan’s second time teaching art to Class 9.

After lunch, she arrived at school carrying a paper bag, heading out from the garage while sending a voice message: “Teacher Du, I’m at school.”

“Come to the dorm. I don’t have class this afternoon—sleep in a bit more, head over later.” Du Heming yawned back.

“Okay.”

Du Heming lounged in bed, her bedside Bluetooth speaker playing the pure music playlist Lou Yixuan had shared with her.

No matter what she listened to, that one track from the Military Training Base still hit just right.

Both assumed Lou Yixuan’s Teacher Card granted default elevator access. It didn’t.

She swiped it twice—no response.

Another elevator happened to open with a teacher coming down from upstairs, but they were strangers, and Lou Yixuan couldn’t bring herself to ask for a swipe.

Footsteps approached from behind. Feeling awkward, she spun around and hurried away.

Like some shady outsider.

She messaged Du Heming: 【Teacher Du, my school card won’t work.】 With a [Pitiful] emoji.

Reading it, Du Heming bolted upright in bed. Still in her pajamas, she dashed out the door.

Voice reply: “Wait for me—right away, right away!”

Her short-sleeve shorts pajama set was fine—bra still on, and as long as no students spotted her outside the dorm building, no scandal about indecent teacher attire.

Lucky break: She reached the elevator just as Lin Huayan—heading to her office—arrived.

“Teacher Lin.”

“Teacher Du, dressed like that…”

“Uh,” Du Heming rubbed her hair sheepishly, “Teacher Lin, Lou Lou’s school card won’t swipe the elevator. Can you help her out?”

“It won’t swipe?”

“Nope. She’s downstairs right now. Just messaged me—with the sad little emoji and everything.”

“…” Lin Huayan’s brows furrowed; she pressed her lips together, silent.

“You’re heading down anyway. I won’t bother— just swipe her up?”

“Mm.”

Lou Yixuan hadn’t waited for the “right away” Du Heming. Instead, a wordless Lin Huayan appeared, her face as overcast as a rainy day.

Crucially, Lin Huayan stopped at least five meters from the elevator, without spotting Du Heming—so she had no intention of approaching.

Lou Yixuan figured she’d politely greet her as she passed, explain she was waiting for Teacher Du, and that’d be it.

Instead, Lou Yixuan waited in place for Lin Huayan to pass by, while Lin Huayan waited at the elevator for her to come over. Two minutes of mutual standoff.

The longer Lou Yixuan waited, the more panicked she grew—unsure if she should approach and greet her or hold position for a “casual” encounter.

Just one glance from Lin Huayan, and she’d have her out.

Another minute passed. The glance came.

Lin Huayan pulled her phone from her laptop bag. Three seconds later, Lou Yixuan’s phone rang in her hand.

A call from “Teacher Lin.” And eyes now fixed on her.

Lou Yixuan had never experienced such a “social death” in her life. It felt strangely thrilling—especially her first one, bestowed by Lin Huayan.

Unexpectedly calm, face unflushed and heart steady, she answered breezily: “Teacher Lin.”

“Not coming up? Come here.”

The voice was low, soft—like summer raindrops on leaves: humid, sweltering, stirring long-forgotten restlessness.

Lou Yixuan’s heart-lake churned again under Lin Huayan’s ripple.

Earth-shaking waves.

Yet despite the mere dozen steps between them—a stone’s throw—they might as well have been separated by an invisible, unbreakable wall.

She yearned to rush to Lin Huayan’s side.

To embrace her, breathe in her scent, touch that warmth she’d missed for so long.

But she feared it was futile.

Feared she’d lack the strength to breach that wall, that her deepest longings would shatter into iridescent bubbles.

No matter how vivid and beautiful, a gust of wind and they’d scatter.

—Come closer, lean on me. You can hold on tight, it’s fine.

Lin Huayan, you said “it’s fine.”

But after I hold tight, you vanish to tell me—it matters.

Lin Huayan ended the call.

Lou Yixuan’s increasingly ragged breaths left her at a loss.

A butterfly’s wing-flap was tiny in motion and sound—yet it stirred faint air currents, sparking complex, unpredictable chain reactions.

Lou Yixuan’s breaths amplified, spreading—the impending butterfly effect a world-shattering storm in Lin Huayan’s realm.

Sometimes, silence stirred more than words.

For survival, Lin Huayan nipped the storm in the bud.

Lou Yixuan approached with a smile. “Sorry, I didn’t know Teacher Du told you.”

” Ran into her.”

Lin Huayan entered the elevator with her, swiped her card, and hit “11.” She seemed about to speak—but didn’t.

Then Lin Huayan stepped out.

The doors closed. Lou Yixuan slumped back against the wall, deflating.

The paper bag from that famous sportswear brand scraped the elevator wall—fine, rustling echoes in the empty confines, battering her unplaceable sorrow endlessly.

How much longer until I get used to it?

Used to facing her with perfect composure, inside and out.

Lou Yixuan stayed on the 11th floor just two or three minutes. She didn’t even enter the room—thanked her amid the music, handed off the items to Du Heming, and left.

Afternoon class loomed in under half an hour; she needed to prep in her office.

Elevator descending to “1”—no swipe needed.

But surprises kept coming.

As she exited downstairs, there stood Lin Huayan—right where she had waited minutes ago.

So Lin Huayan… had been waiting for her?

Yes. Lin Huayan’s gaze confirmed it.