[Lou Yixuan: I just sent the wrong message by mistake. Pretend you didn’t see it, Teacher Lin.]
In the dorm at Tianmu Middle School, Lin Huayan received Lou Yixuan’s message just as she changed into comfortable clothes and prepared for a short nap.
She had originally planned to sleep for a bit to clear her mind, then tell Lou Yixuan in the afternoon that Du Heming couldn’t make it for dinner tomorrow night.
Lately, Du Heming had been eating lunch with He Huan every day, so Lin Huayan had deliberately chosen lunchtime in the cafeteria to break the news to both of them.
Du Heming said she had unavoidable family matters, and He Huan, ever considerate of both sides, suggested rescheduling.
Lin Huayan herself wasn’t entirely sure why she had picked tomorrow to invite them for dinner.
Was it to make up for Lou Yixuan with a “birthday together”?
But their “shared birthday” was already in the past. Tomorrow was just her birthday—what did it have to do with Lou Yixuan?
Eight years ago, she hadn’t been able to spend Lou Yixuan’s eighteenth birthday with her, hadn’t kept her word to cook a meal by hand, buy a cake, or share a drink. Lin Huayan felt guilty about it.
This was their first birthday since reuniting, and watching the days slip by had left her anxious inside.
She feared this “missed chance” would become another irreparable regret.
When she saw Lou Yixuan’s message saying [Tomorrow night, just the two of us], she had been secretly delighted, willing, yet hesitant.
She typed out [Sure] in the text box, but like last time’s [Sorry], she couldn’t bring herself to send it.
Until Lou Yixuan recalled the message.
Thinking of Lou Yixuan’s hurt eyes, those vanished dimples, she panicked.
She deleted her draft and quickly typed: [I saw it. Sure. Let’s meet. I have something to discuss with Teacher Lou anyway.]
To show her sincerity, she followed up: [I’ll treat you to beef hotpot. I know a really good place.]
[Lou Yixuan: Send me the address, or should I pick you up?]
[Lin Huayan: High school first-years dismiss early on Fridays. Come pick me up—around 4:50. If you’re early, wait in the garage. If on time, meet at the South Gate.]
[Lou Yixuan: Okay, talk later.]
With the time set, Lou Yixuan set her phone aside, picked up the desk calendar, and circled October 24th with a pencil.
The nearest date, the 22nd, was circled too.
On this calendar, every date she’d met Lin Huayan was circled.
Whether they’d spoken or not, she circled them all.
Wednesdays had the most circles.
But not just Wednesdays.
So many, yet so few.
She stared at the calendar in a daze for a moment, then messaged Lu Lingxuan: [Big Baby, wanna hit the mall with me after work?]
[Lu Lingxuan: Sure, whatcha shopping for? Want me to bring the wife for opinions?]
[Lou Yixuan: You’ve got me covered.]
[Lu Lingxuan: Whoa, why’s your little mouth so sweet today? Did Teacher Lin feed you candy?]
[Lou Yixuan: No candy, but meat.]
[Lu Lingxuan: Aaaah! It’s been how long, and you’re already eating meat?!]
[Lou Yixuan: Beef. Don’t think dirty.]
[Lu Lingxuan: [Cat sighing.gif]]
…
High school first-years had no weekend classes. Boarders could study in classrooms on Saturdays, with subject teachers on duty in the office.
Friday dismissal was at 5:05 PM, but Lin Huayan arranged everything during the big break after the second afternoon class, having the academic committee member list all weekend homework on the blackboard.
She returned to her dorm, changed into casual clothes: a light gray knit long skirt, a beige mid-length coat, black ankle boots.
She even applied exquisite makeup.
Every piece, including the cosmetics, was brand new.
She’d bought the fall-winter outfits during those days after returning from the Military Training Base, when she went shopping with Qin Fengru.
They’d all come in handy eventually.
As she reached the South Gate, she ran into Old Man Zhang.
His eyes lit up, and he gaped before sighing in admiration. “Teacher Lin, all dressed up like this for a date? Not with Miss Qin, I bet?”
“No.”
Seeing her not deny the “date,” Old Man Zhang was nearly in tears of joy.
“Whoa, Teacher Lin’s spring has finally arrived!”
“…” Lin Huayan lowered her head without responding and hurried through the gate to wait at the intersection for Lou Yixuan.
Lou Yixuan had called ten minutes earlier; she’d timed her exit perfectly.
The Security Room couldn’t see where she got in the car—if Old Man Zhang spotted it, he’d tease her endlessly when she returned that night.
After all, she’d never left campus “fully dressed and made up” without driving.
She didn’t plan to drink tonight, just wanted a good meal with Lou Yixuan. Skipping her own car meant more alone time.
It was still early, a clear day with excellent outdoor light.
Lou Yixuan pulled over; from afar, the “renewed” Lin Huayan caught her eye.
The closer she got to Lin Huayan, the faster her heart raced. The careful outfit showed how much Lin Huayan valued her, valued their dinner.
Yesterday’s slight neglect vanished completely once Lin Huayan settled into the passenger seat.
“Teacher Lin today…” is so beautiful.
She swallowed the second half.
Saying it outright sounded lecherous, and if nitpicked, what did “today beautiful” imply? Not beautiful before?
In her eyes, Lin Huayan was never anything less.
“No glasses today—worried about steam fogging them up during hotpot?”
She’d only seen Lin Huayan without glasses twice: last Wednesday and this one. At the sports meet that Thursday, she’d worn them.
But the question felt a bit like small talk between half-acquaintances.
Though in truth, her heart was pounding wildly.
“You could say that.”
Lin Huayan buckled her seatbelt, glancing sidelong at Lou Yixuan’s hand on the wheel—her left middle finger gleamed with a ring, seemingly platinum band.
Why the sudden ring?
Bought it herself, or a gift?
Middle finger—what did it mean?
Just coincidence today?
Questions bubbled in Lin Huayan’s mind. Or was Lou Yixuan signaling something to her?
“Teacher Lin, mind navigating?”
Lou Yixuan tapped the center screen, pulling up the map. “This car’s GPS is pretty accurate from my tests.”
“Sure. Left at the light ahead.”
…
It was Friday but not yet five; traffic flowed smoothly, and they arrived without delays—right on time at 5:30.
Matched perfectly with Lin Huayan’s reservation from yesterday.
Prepping sides, mixing dips, boiling beef—all took time. Eating around six was ideal.
The broth was wild mushroom clear soup.
Lou Yixuan loved spice more than Lin Huayan and could handle more heat.
Back then, Lin Huayan cooked mild flavors; only after Lou Yixuan started crashing meals did she learn those homey spicy dishes Lou Yixuan favored.
For light dishes like veggie tofu soup, blanched greens, baby cabbage in supreme broth, or braised broccoli, Lou Yixuan liked customizing her dips when possible.
After ordering, they went together to mix sauces.
Lin Huayan had been here once, brought by Qin Fengru.
“Their roasted chili sauce gets better reviews than chili oil. You should like it.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Lou Yixuan listlessly set down the chili oil ladle and scooped a tiny bit of the roasted chili sauce Lin Huayan recommended.
Tiny compared to her usual spice tolerance— so small Lin Huayan wondered if she’d only picked it to humor her “enthusiasm.”
Lou Yixuan held the bowl left-handed; every glance from Lin Huayan on her left caught that mysterious ring, each one stinging.
“Sorry, forgot you’ve lived abroad a long time. If you don’t like it or aren’t used to it anymore, no need to force yourself.”
Don’t like what? Not used to what?
Lin Huayan’s words were so hard to read now.
“No dislike, no discomfort.” Lou Yixuan brushed it off, eyes locked intently on Lin Huayan.
“Teacher Lin, back in school in China, I wasn’t some straight-A genius—Chinese reading comprehension was never my strong suit. So deep, flowery sentences, written or spoken, trip me up. If I misread you and respond wrongly, bear with me. After all, I’ve lived abroad a long time.”
“…” The more one speaks, the more mistakes one makes.
Lin Huayan felt scorched under Lou Yixuan’s gaze, inwardly annoyed at her own vague “grievance.”
Lou Yixuan’s follow-up made her fidget: “The person who brought Teacher Lin here last time—do they like spice too?”
“…” Lin Huayan felt like thorns pricking her back, equivocating, “That was years ago, with an old friend. She found the place.”
But she didn’t say Qin Fengru had scoured the city for this reliable spot because she craved beef hotpot—and she’d craved it because Lou Yixuan loved it.
In their sophomore and junior years, besides crashing at her place, Lou Yixuan occasionally begged for outings on weekends.
The beef hotpot stuck deepest in her memory—their first time out for it.
Not tasteless, but one for the books.
The place was one Lou Yixuan got hyped for from a food blogger, eagerly awaited forever.
Lin Huayan still recalled Lou Yixuan’s “deep grudge” pouty face.
She remembered her sulking, fuming: This world has too many liars. I won’t trust food bloggers or those app five-star fakes again. I only trust Teacher Lin’s cooking.
After that, Lou Yixuan never suggested beef hotpot. Lin Huayan squeezed in time for a labor-intensive tomato brisket, stuffing her full.
—What now, Teacher Lin? You’ve ruined my stomach. If anyone calls me picky, I’ll say it’s your fault.
Lou Yixuan had been picky long before they met—her fault?
“Teacher Lin has gourmet friends too.” Lou Yixuan tossed out casually.
“The one with the braid I mentioned before.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t have many friends.”
“Friends aren’t about quantity. One or two who stick makes it enough.”
“…”
“Hope this meal goes well.”
Lou Yixuan finished, turning first toward their table.
She curved her lips—a new tactic against Lin Huayan unlocked.
Retreat as advance, victory through surprise.
Once Lin Huayan sat, she leisurely said what she’d held back in the car: “Teacher Lin put in effort getting ready. You look beautiful today.”
“…”
“Person beautiful, makeup beautiful, outfit beautiful—all beautiful.”
“…”
“If I’d known Teacher Lin would dress so elegantly today, I should’ve booked somewhere nicer…”
Lin Huayan’s attitude had surprised her; time to surprise back at dinner.
Such a stunning, poised Lin Huayan deserved a classy, romantic restaurant for her thirty-eighth birthday—matching her refined look.
Not compromising for her in a beef hotpot spot that’d leave them reeking.
“Talk less.” Lin Huayan cut in, flustered, right hand grabbing the soup ladle from the rack, left extended. “Pass me your soup bowl. Drink some first, warm your stomach.”
No one had so bluntly praised her beauty face-to-face in ages. Like fulfilled longing—shy, heartbeat chaotic, brain overloaded.
She needed distraction.
To avoid embarrassment.
But Lou Yixuan defied norms, not handing over the bowl—instead standing to take her ladle.
“Teacher Lin, let me.”
“It’s hot in there. Your face… Suggest you take off the coat.”
Hearing the pointed words, Lin Huayan immediately released the ladle.
“I’ll go wash my hands.” With that, she stood up and pointed to the largest plate of beef on the table. “Once you’ve ladled the soup, just call the waiter to pour this plate of fresh-sliced beef into the pot. Don’t do it yourself—you’ll scald your hand.”
“Okay.”
Single-sheet wet wipes sat right there in the bottom layer of the utensil rack. Lou Yixuan saw right through it but said nothing.
Lin Huayan’s so cute like this, she thought.
Why hadn’t I noticed before how easily teased she is?
Before…
Before, she was always so cautious, burying her secret crush deeper and deeper, terrified that one slip would expose her. How could she have ever “dared” to tease her crush so recklessly?
