After that day, Lou Yixuan’s “extracurricular life” became vibrant and colorful, with the number of posts she shared on Moments surging dramatically.
There were photos of food she took at Youjian Little Tavern, along with selfies with Xu Yaning.
There was the belated National Day photo with Nannan, captioned—【Little Baby】.
There were shots of her workstation at Tianmu Middle School, autumn scenes captured on Haifan Campus, and photos from her Halloween cosplay outing at Happy Valley with Du Heming and her friends—stunning and alluring.
Lin Huayan clicked on every single one, enlarging them to take a closer look.
Yet she left no trace.
In all those group photos, Lou Yixuan smiled so sweetly, just like on the first day they reunited, just like during those three days at the Military Training Base.
In the first week of November, Du Heming sent Lou Yixuan a celebratory voice message at noon on Monday.
“Lou Lou, I just checked with Teacher Lin and Teacher He. This Friday evening, we’re on for mutton soup hotpot—they’re both good with it.”
On Halloween night, she’d suggested treating everyone the following week, right on the day of Lidong, something seasonal to match the vibe.
She’d missed out on Teacher Lin’s “invitation” last time—this time, she had to make it happen.
When she sent the message, she was walking back to the dorm with Lin and He, never imagining it would go so smoothly.
“Speaking of mutton soup hotpot, isn’t that a Winter Solstice custom?”
As they walked, He Huan suddenly asked, “It’s only early November—are there even places doing mutton soup hotpot yet?”
“There are! I’ve already looked it up.”
Du Heming, ever the planner, replied with full confidence. “Lidong is winter too, right? Eat it with friends on Lidong, with family on Winter Solstice—best of both worlds. Right, Teacher Lin?”
At lunch, she’d floated the idea of mutton soup hotpot, worried someone might dislike the gaminess, but Teacher Lin had agreed without hesitation: “Sure.”
Teacher He followed right after: “I can too.”
“Mm.”
Lin Huayan’s response was crisp because Lou Yixuan loved beef, lamb, pork.
But not chicken, duck, goose, or fish.
She liked watching Lou Yixuan turn into a satisfied little kitten after eating her fill.
Both adorable and adorably silly.
“No drinks with mutton soup hotpot then—we’ll drive ourselves. Teacher Du, staying on campus this weekend or heading home?” He Huan asked Du Heming.
Staying or going home?
In the past, that question was never an issue.
Du Heming had gone home last week—hell would freeze over before she wanted to go back this week.
But now…
“Teacher He, invite me.”
“Invite you for what?”
“Carpool, duh. If you don’t invite me, I’ll feel awkward. I have pride too, you know.”
He Huan looked down, hand to her lips as she smiled—Du Heming’s quirky lines always cracked her up. “Mm, if you’re going home, you’re welcome to ride with me. If not, then have Teacher Lin invite you again.”
“I’m going home, yeah. Lately, I need to head back more to spend time with my parents, be the modern filial daughter they rave about.”
Du Heming had savings, enough for a car, and she’d gotten her license.
She just hated driving—ride-hailing was her habit, everywhere she went, way less hassle than owning and maintaining a car.
But now…
Just thinking about riding with He Huan got her all excited—no more ride-hailing for her!
【Lou Yixuan: Got it.】
Glancing at the message, Du Heming sent another voice note: “Also, we agreed—no drinks on Friday, so you won’t be stuck staring at an empty glass alone. Teacher He and Teacher Lin are driving too. See you at the place.”
“…”
Teacher Lin, who said nothing, just lifted an eyelid—this drive was happening whether she liked it or not.
【Lou Yixuan: Sounds good.】
“Got it, sounds good—Lou Lou’s replies are so obedient.” Du Heming chuckled to herself, completely missing the darkening gaze beside her.
She pocketed her phone and practically danced. “I haven’t even told you guys yet—last Friday, Lou Lou and I went to Happy Valley for Halloween, right? You saw the costumes on Moments. What you didn’t see was, pfft, Lou Lou got mobbed by tons of people asking for her contact info. She didn’t want to give it out, and turning them down one by one was too much hassle, so guess what she did?”
He Huan played along perfectly: “What?”
“She swapped golden wigs with another friend of mine, then whenever someone approached, she’d shake her head, wave them off, and speak English—the real Australian accent kind. She impersonated a foreigner and fooled all those flirty strangers with the act.”
“Little Teacher Lou has such a good-girl image, but she has a mischievous side too.”
Catching the novelty in He Huan’s tone, Du Heming tested the waters: “These foreign holidays are actually pretty fun. Christmas is next month—Teacher He, wanna…”
“Ah? No, no, no, count me out. You young folks go have fun…”
“What do you mean ‘you young folks’!”
Du Heming wasn’t having it. She hooked He Huan’s arm and stared her down. “Teacher He, you’re young too. Men can be boys till they die—why can’t women be girls till the end? Keep an optimistic mindset, and life’s full of sunshine everywhere. Play till you drop, stay positive, and your health follows. Science proves women have strong vitality and endurance—as long as we don’t give up or give in to age, we’ll always come out on top…”
She rambled on, pulling quotes from everywhere, a disjointed but passionate pep talk, utterly sincere and fired up.
Lin Huayan interrupted: “Teacher Du’s chicken soup for the soul…”
“!!!”
Du Heming whipped around, slowly extending her wrist amid the chilly autumn breeze. “Doctor He, I think I’m having another…”
But Lin Huayan’s follow-up was: “Delicious.”
Du Heming stared in shock. “Teacher He, did you hear what Teacher Lin just said?”
“I did.” He Huan smiled, pressing down her raised wrist. “She said your chicken soup for the soul today is well-seasoned and nutritious—no need for emergency care.”
…
On Wednesday this week, Lou Yixuan arrived very early.
Last week’s art homework had been collected by Zhang Xiao on Sunday night and locked in drawer No. 3.
To prevent loss, every teacher and class rep had keys to their subject-specific drawers—grab and go as needed.
Lou Yixuan fetched them from the Art Classroom first, reviewed them once, then took them upstairs to compare with the first and third color assignments stored in the office.
The same still-life theme, the progress was obvious at a glance.
In that afternoon’s class, she’d have the students compare their own three pieces for self-analysis: strengths and weaknesses, strong suits and shortcomings.
Only by knowing their pros and cons could they target improvements, overcome hurdles, level up, break through.
With a rough plan in mind, Lou Yixuan checked the time—11:10, still early for lunch.
Her desk held few things: file holder, textbooks, photo frame, art supplies.
The most eye-catching was the red velvet rose from Lin Jianlu, stuck in her pen holder next to the Military Training Base group photo, standing out from the crowd—vibrant and unique.
It shouldn’t stand out so much.
Because “unique” could easily be read as something more by those paying attention.
To her, this flower’s sole meaning was the first Teachers’ Day gift from her first Teachers’ Day.
Nothing else.
So a few days ago, she’d searched online for similar handmade items and found a Wooden Puzzle Flower set in building-block style.
Netizens’ photos showed the assembled pieces looked great, and it wasn’t hard to put together.
She ordered one decisively—a set of five: sunflower, Red Camellia, pink rose, Purple Lilac, chamomile.
She brought them all to Tianmu today, planning one per week.
The most striking was the “Red Camellia.”
Bold and vivid.
Without thinking, she tore it open, but stared dumbfounded at the hundred-plus scattered pieces inside.
The largest was a leaf a bit bigger than her thumb; the smallest tinier than a pinky nail.
She had patience, could sit still, but highly focused, logical puzzling—like math homework—really tested her.
She’d probably zone out midway, lost in a daze.
Sure enough, without touching a single piece, her mind had already drifted back eight years to those grueling nights forcing herself to grind math.
If she had to say, it wasn’t that bad.
Because Lin Huayan was with her. Because she had a promise with Lin Huayan.
For Lin Huayan, she’d go through fire and water.
But this…
The “grand” assembly project hadn’t even started, and Lou Yixuan was already slacking—no piece appealed.
She sighed, stashed the opened set in her drawer, eyed the other four, and decided to “burden” Teacher Du with one.
After all, Teacher Du had been thrilled receiving flowers.
【Lou Yixuan: Teacher Du, lunch together?】
【Du Heming: Sure.】
【Du Heming: Teacher He’s out today—wanna ask Teacher Lin too?】
Lou Yixuan hesitated, but hyper-proactive Du Heming pulled her into a four-person group chat named “Indissoluble Meal Buddies.”
【Du Heming: Teacher Lin, Lou Lou wants to invite you to the cafeteria for lunch.】
Lou Yixuan quickly followed up: 【Teacher Lin, lunch?】
Du Heming’s whims once again caught her off guard. Does Teacher Du even know what “awkward” means? Lou Yixuan grumbled inwardly. How is she so carefree?
But then she thought living like Teacher Du—great wisdom in seeming folly—wasn’t bad at all.
Say what you want, eat what you crave, play what you like. Seize the day. No overthinking. Live in the now.
After a short wait, Lin Huayan replied: 【Sure. Cafeteria it is.】
Lou Yixuan headed to the cafeteria with the Wooden Puzzle Flower, spotting Du Heming first. With utter sincerity: “Teacher Du’s great at tending flowers. This one’s for you.”
“Ah? This… a flower?”
Du Heming took it, then gawked, shoving it right back.
Her face screamed refusal: “Lou Lou, don’t tease me—puzzle this? You’d be the death of me!”
“…”
Another one who couldn’t assemble a thing.
“Be honest: you couldn’t do it yourself, so you’re dumping it on me?”
“…” Lou Yixuan felt guilty. “I wanted to assemble it and gift it, but… the will’s there, not the skill.”
“Ha, knew it.”
The more time they spent together, the more she saw Lou Yixuan’s sly, black-bellied side.
She remembered boasting back then that the little fairy was too pure, needed to be “a bit naughty.”
Now she was naughty.
Brazenly naughty—at her expense.
“Lou Lou…”
Du Heming was torn between laughter and tears.
Just then, Lin Huayan arrived, her gaze landing on the mystery item they clutched. “What are you two doing standing here?”
Perfect timing, Du Heming thought—this was her savior!
Director Lin had saved her… them… both.
She thrust it at Lin Huayan: “Teacher Lin, Lou Lou has a flower for you. This job—er, flower—only you can handle. I can’t, and neither can Lou Lou.”
She let go like it was a hot potato.
Now Lou Yixuan held it, “gifting” it to Lin Huayan, stumbling over her words: “Teacher Lin, this, um, little thing. I saw it and…”
Lin Huayan had already clocked the packaging’s image and name. She took it with one hand. “Thanks.”
Lou Yixuan added: “I bought it myself.”
Not from anyone else.
She feared Lin Huayan might think it was from a student if she didn’t clarify.
It did look like a kid’s toy.
The top right of the packaging boldly marked “8+”—for kids eight and up.
“This sunflower’s so pretty.”
Du Heming backed her up. “Assembled, it’d make a great desk ornament—total sense of accomplishment.”
Lin Huayan shot her a look: “Teacher Du…”
Du Heming jolted and bolted, dragging Lou Yixuan along: “Lou Lou, come on, let’s check today’s lunch menu…”
Behind them, Lin Huayan looked down at the “gift” in her hand, then at the pair ahead, smiling helplessly.
Because it reminded her of the past.
—”You’ve been building this Lego Disney Castle for a whole semester—how’s it still just a garden?”
—”Too taxing on the eyes and brain cells. I’m ready to admit defeat to my friend.”
—”Admit defeat?”
“Yeah, when she gave me the Lego set, we made a bet. If I could assemble it within six months, she’d take me to Disney over summer vacation. If I couldn’t, I’d treat her instead.”
“Your senior year workload was so heavy. That wasn’t exactly fair to you.”
“She meant it as a way to help me relieve some boredom. It’s just that I’m so clumsy and dim-witted—I couldn’t tackle that massive thing.”
“You’re not dumb. Don’t belittle yourself.”
“Oh. Well then, Teacher Lin, how about you help me out? Nah, forget it—integrity first. No cheating.”
“You really like Disney?”
“Not particularly. I just have a fondness for anything fantastical.”
Had Lou Yixuan ever taken that dream castle home and assembled it in the end? Had she and her friends ever made it to a real-life amusement park?
…
The mutton soup hotpot restaurant that Du Heming had chosen was tucked away from the bustling downtown area. Lou Yixuan, with no classes that day, arrived earlier than the other three and sat at the table, killing time with a Match-3 game.
Du Heming had received the table number and a photo from Lou Yixuan while still en route. Once they arrived, she didn’t message back—instead, she sneaked upstairs to find the table.
Since Lin Huayan and He Huan were driving, they both wore flat boots, their footsteps barely audible.
Plus, Du Heming mischievously crept up and grabbed her shoulder with a sudden “Hey!”—scaring Lou Yixuan half to death.
The Bluetooth earbud in her left ear tumbled to the floor from the jolt.
Lin Huayan swooped in quick as a flash this time and picked it up. She could still faintly hear the game sound effects playing inside.
“Ah, sorry, sorry! Lou Lou, you okay? Did I scare you too bad?”
Seeing her freeze up, Du Heming apologized profusely and hurriedly grabbed some tissues, trying to take the earbud from Lin Huayan to wipe it clean before handing it back.
“It’s fine, I’ll get it. I have disinfectant wipes.” Lin Huayan didn’t hand it over. “Teacher Du, Teacher He, have a seat.”
Small square table, four sides.
Four chairs.
He Huan tugged at Du Heming. “Teacher Du, you first.”
Once the buzzing sound faded, Lou Yixuan slowly raised her hand to her right ear, adjusting the loose earbud.
She shook her head. “Just startled, that’s all. I’m fine.”
It had been eight years, yet she still experienced auditory hallucinations in moments of shock. Neither medication nor therapy could fix it.
Just like back in the cafeteria, Lin Huayan took the seat to Lou Yixuan’s left. She pulled disinfectant wipes from her handbag and thoroughly cleaned the earbud.
Then handed it back.
Lou Yixuan’s phone screen was still lit, a riot of colorful cartoon characters dazzling the eyes.
In Lin Huayan’s memory, Lou Yixuan never played games and had no bad habits.
Not that gaming was bad.
It was just that the warm, obedient girl she remembered didn’t match these glimpses she was seeing now—a jarring disconnect.
“Thanks.”
Lou Yixuan shut down the game. She put the wiped earbud back in its case and slipped it into the bag behind her chair.
Her face was a bit pale, her usual energy dimmed.
Du Heming, settling into the seat on her right, felt guilty. “Lou Lou, are you feeling unwell today?”
To distract them, Lou Yixuan tugged her lips into a smile.
“My cycle’s been all out of whack since I got back these past few months. Unfortunately, it hit today—I’m just a bit off. Don’t mind me, and don’t worry. Us women, we all have those couple of weak days every month. Next week, I’ll be back to my full-of-vim-and-vigor self, Little Teacher Lou.”
“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Du Heming’s face was full of concern. “We’re all so close, seeing each other weekly. It’s just dinner—postponing it wouldn’t be a big deal. Why act so distant?”
“It’s not distance.” Lou Yixuan’s voice was feeble, but her smile was genuine.
“I don’t like the uncertainty of ‘next time.’ So when ‘this time’ comes, I grab it with both hands.”
“So many things, so many people—wait long enough, and there is no ‘next time.’”
Just like her and Lin Huayan’s next birthday.
The next sunset.
And the next spring.
