Unlike her reaction just minutes earlier, Lou Yixuan’s heart raced, and her steps quickened. This time, she didn’t hesitate or flee.
She walked right up to her, bold and unashamed.
“Teacher Lin is waiting for me? Does she have something to say?”
“No big deal,” Lin Huayan replied before she could even steady herself, already striding off. “Come with me to the Information Center.”
“To do what?”
“Get a card.”
What kind of card? Recalling the elevator awkwardness from moments ago, Lou Yixuan suddenly understood.
Lin Huayan had waited specifically for her—to take her to get a Teacher Card with elevator access!
But she didn’t have a dorm here. Going up there would just be…
“I’m here to return Teacher Du’s pants.”
Afraid Lin Huayan might misunderstand and think something romantic was going on with Teacher Du, Lou Yixuan hurried to explain. “Last week in the art room, I accidentally bumped into a student, and the water bucket spilled, soaking my pants. Teacher Du came to my rescue in a pinch and lent me a pair to change into. Our builds are pretty similar, so hers fit me perfectly. I bought an identical pair at the shop over the weekend and brought it to give back today.”
Though both Du Heming and Lin Huayan were a few centimeters taller than her, Du Heming’s casual style matched hers more closely.
She could wear Du Heming’s clothes and pants.
Not so with Lin Huayan.
Lin Huayan wasn’t just three centimeters taller—she had a completely different clothing style that wouldn’t suit Lou Yixuan at all.
If she’d borrowed Lin Huayan’s slacks, the pant legs would’ve dragged on the ground, looking utterly ridiculous.
That day, she’d been wearing a high-waisted, proper-shoulder POLO shirt on top—pairing it with Teacher Du’s sporty pants had been the perfect choice.
Lin Huayan hadn’t heard Du Heming mention the incident. “Mm. Your classes involve paints, so you should keep a change of clothes in your car trunk or office from now on.”
“Already did—in the trunk.”
Strictly speaking, lunchtime had arrived, and boarding students began streaming out of the Dormitory Building one after another. The campus grew lively.
Girls strolled in chattering groups of three or five, their youthful energy blooming even brighter under the sunlight.
“Teacher Lin, Teacher Lou! Just coming from the dorms too?” One girl caught up to them—the same one who’d given them red roses on Teachers’ Day.
“I don’t live in the dorms. Just handling something with Teacher Lin,” Lou Yixuan answered.
“Oh.” The girl had meant to hurry ahead to class but suddenly slowed, lagging half a step behind.
Lou Yixuan glanced back at her.
Grinning, the girl caught up again. “After military training, Teacher Lin dyed her hair—it’s kinda similar to yours, Teacher Lou. We’ve been debating if it’s the exact same shade or whose is darker, whose lighter.”
Lou Yixuan had caught a glimpse of Lin Huayan’s fresh dye job last week on the playground edge outside the cafeteria—no chance to look closely then.
Reminded by the girl, she now openly tilted her head for a proper look.
Similar? Not really.
“I just compared them. In the classroom without a reference, they look alike at first glance. But out here in the sunlight, side by side like this, the sheen shows a clear difference.”
“Oh? What difference?” Lou Yixuan asked, genuinely intrigued by the girls’ favorite topic.
“Both are tea browns, but yours is warm-toned—redder, browner. Teacher Lin’s is cool-toned—greener, grayer.”
“Spot on description. Thumbs-up for you.”
Lou Yixuan made a manual heart gesture “like,” sending the girl into delighted giggles.
She had dimples too—just one, on her right cheek. “Both shades are gorgeous—they make your skin look so fair! See you in class, Teacher Lin, Teacher Lou.”
“Go on ahead.”
Once the girl had dashed off, Lou Yixuan let out a soft chuckle. “Such a cute kid.”
She tossed the question to Lin Huayan, seeking agreement. “The kids in our Class 9 aren’t ‘different’ from other classes, right, Teacher Lin?”
Focusing on art for the gaokao path wasn’t slacking off or taking crooked shortcuts.
Sure, there might be more free spirits and standouts, but that wasn’t because they were art students—it was their innate drawing talent making them sharper, more sensitive at perceiving and integrating sensory info.
Art students weren’t bad students, let alone troublemakers.
Lin Huayan answered Lou Yixuan’s question with a single “Mm,” but Lou Yixuan heard the affirmation and resolve in it.
Student cards could be handled at the academic affairs office, but staff cards required HR routing through the Information Center.
Too much hassle.
To save time, Lin Huayan took Lou Yixuan straight to the center’s head.
After all, HR-issued cards all came through here anyway.
At the office door, Lou Yixuan pulled out her card, ready to hand it to Lin Huayan for elevator activation.
Lin Huayan didn’t take it. “I’ll get you a new one.”
Lou Yixuan blankly murmured “Okay” and pocketed it. As she moved to follow Lin Huayan inside, Lin Huayan halted abruptly.
She lightly touched Lou Yixuan’s arm with a raised hand. “Never mind. Wait out here.”
Lou Yixuan’s mouth opened slightly—she could guess why Lin Huayan didn’t want her going in. “Thanks for the trouble, then, Teacher Lin.”
“No trouble.”
The originally open door shut after Lin Huayan entered.
Lou Yixuan only caught a middle-aged man’s voice from inside. “Yo, Director Lin—what brings you here?”
After that, nothing.
About five minutes later, Lin Huayan emerged and handed her a new card. “Full Tianmu Middle School teacher privileges. Loaded it with some pocket money—works in the cafeteria and supermarket.”
Lou Yixuan’s “Thank you, Teacher Lin” was on the tip of her tongue when someone popped out behind Lin Huayan.
“So this is your class’s art teacher? No wonder…”
The man grinned playfully—not sleazy. “Director Lin, when are you setting up a mixer for your grade group with us admin folks?”
Lin Huayan didn’t refuse. “We’ll see at year-end.” She lightly gripped Lou Yixuan’s slim arm, steering her out.
The casual skin contact sent a jolt like electricity through her body, flushing Lou Yixuan’s cheeks with a faint blush.
The color of excitement and joy.
An irrepressible emotion blooming deep inside.
But I have to hold back.
She bit her lower lip hard, lashes fluttering, eyes flickering—with longing for the touch and fear Lin Huayan might see through it.
Slowly, subtly, she slipped her arm free.
Then she ducked her head, long hair veiling her face, hiding the turmoil within.
“Thank you.”
She murmured her thanks softly, the ending note trembling faintly—her effort at composure.
Thrilled, yes, but she knew: for now, bury it deep.
“You’re welcome.”
Lin Huayan shoved that boundary-crossing hand into her pocket, pinching the dark seam as self-punishment.
Her sharp insight failed her on Lou Yixuan.
From the start, Lou Yixuan had existed in the crowd—and in her view—with quiet restraint.
Like a flower quietly blooming in spring: unassuming, yet exuding a faint, bewitching fragrance.
Clear eyes, subtle smiles, but never revealing true feelings easily.
She could tell what Lou Yixuan liked, what she disliked—but not what she wanted.
Likes weren’t always wants.
Dislikes weren’t always unwanted.
“Oh, right, Teacher Lin.”
Lou Yixuan’s left hand toyed with the new campus card, thumb sliding along the edge.
Her right hand brushed back obstructing ear strands—but didn’t tuck them behind her ear. She tilted her head toward Lin Huayan walking on her right.
“National Day break’s coming up. Before the holiday, I’d like to treat you, Teacher Du, and Teacher He to dinner…”
“No issue for me. Whatever works for Teacher Du and Teacher He time-wise.”
Lin Huayan agreed so readily that Lou Yixuan’s prepared arsenal of wheedling arguments went unused.
Auspicious start. A… good omen.
From indoors to outdoors, their paths diverged next.
Lin Huayan finally pulled the photo from her laptop bag and handed it over. “Military training group shot—printed. Students got theirs Monday. This one’s yours.”
“Thanks.”
Lou Yixuan took the laminated photo: her first with all of Class 9, and her second reunion shot with Lin Huayan.
In a sea of camo, their light clothes made her and Lin Huayan stand out.
“Class time’s nearing,” Lin Huayan reminded.
Snapping out of her entranced gaze, Lou Yixuan pocketed it with a smile. “Oh—gotta run to class then. See you, Teacher Lin.”
…
After school, Du Heming came to grab Lou Yixuan for dinner. They’d agreed last week: each pays their own.
Teacher Cards got a fixed 500 yuan monthly meal allowance, auto-deposited at month’s start. Middle school cafeteria meals ran just ten or twenty yuan.
A grazer like Du Heming, with occasional off-campus indulgences, never used it all.
Lou Yixuan carried her new card, of course.
The special one Lin Huayan got her—she’d keep it on her always.
Not just Wednesdays.
“Huh? Lou Lou, how’d your card balance jump like that? From 4xx to 9xx—did you top it up yourselves? Or did HR mess up and double-pay?”
Lou Yixuan hadn’t expected it either. Lin Huayan’s casual “pocket money” was a full thousand yuan.
She’d assumed “same as Tianmu Middle School teachers” meant the standard 500.
Did Lin Huayan cover this thousand personally?
“Noon, Teacher Lin took me to the Information Center for elevator access. Probably got me an extra meal allowance.”
“Oh, gotcha.”
It checked out; Du Heming bought it. “What I mean is—if HR goofed, ignore it. If you topped up yourselves, no real need. But gotta say, Teacher Lin’s move? Pretty cool.”
“She… yeah, super cool.”
Not Lou Yixuan’s first time thinking Lin Huayan’s style was cool, but the first hearing Du Heming say it aloud.
Trays loaded, they found an empty table. Lou Yixuan cut to the chase.
“Teacher Du, sincerest invite: pre-holiday drinks at my sister’s place. You in?”
Sister?
Last time “friend,” now “sister.”
Sitting face-to-face, Du Heming looked up, searching Lou Yixuan’s eyes for murky vibes.
None.
Those eyes stayed spotless, clearer than purified water.
“Sure, why not?” She dug back into her food. “Teacher Lin and Teacher He too, right? Times synced?”
“Teacher Lin said whatever works for you two—she’s good. I’ll check with Teacher He after dinner…”
…
With Lin Huayan, Du Heming, and He Huan all homeroom teachers, syncing evenings during the regular school week was tough.
Dinner was set for the night before break.
School let out early that afternoon. To show sincerity, Lou Yixuan drove to pick them up and lead the way—but only got Du Heming.
He Huan had post-dinner family plans and drove herself. Lin Huayan rode with her—no leaving her solo.
Entering the business district office building, elevators hit peak rush. Four in operation, but all four women waited two rounds to board.
Among them, Lin Huayan wasn’t the tallest barefoot, but her heels made her tower above the rest.
Du Heming was tallest but rarely heeled; He Huan matched Lou Yixuan’s height.
“Someone in the elevator just stomped my foot—ow, it hurts!”
Out of the elevator, Du Heming stomped her tiptoes repeatedly, whining. “High heel too—full heel stab, killing me.”
“Not me.”
“…” Du Heming was speechless. “Teacher Lin, since when do you do dad jokes?”
Lou Yixuan and He Huan exchanged amused glances.
He Huan patted Du Heming’s back, pretending to steady her. “Want to take off the shoe and check? What if it’s bruised…”
“Nah, nah—not that fragile. One stomp won’t break me.”
Du Heming waved it off frantically. Lou Yixuan saw she wasn’t faking, and led them toward the Small Tavern.
As they walked, she said, “Ya Ning-jie’s shop is called ‘Youjian Little Tavern.’ It’s been open for about two years now. This is the flagship store—there are two new branches in other commercial districts that haven’t been around long.”
Hearing her introduce the name, He Huan suddenly piped up: “You said… what’s it called?”
