This was the second time Lin Huayan had grabbed her by the wrist, and Lou Yixuan didn’t struggle free. Because Lin Huayan was gripping so tightly. Because she could feel Lin Huayan’s grievance.
It was an expression she’d never seen before—a usually strong, unyielding Lin Huayan who never backed down, now resembling a bird with its wings broken by the wind, fragile, her eyes filled with sorrow and helplessness.
Lou Yixuan’s heart ached fiercely, like a sharp thorn stabbing into it, the pain nearly bringing tears to her eyes. Her throat felt stuffed with cotton, overwhelmed by the urge to comfort Lin Huayan.
She bit her lip and instinctively stepped closer to Lin Huayan, narrowing the distance between them, then narrowing it further.
The warm autumn sunlight bathed everything in a soft orange glow, filtering through the layered gaps in the leaves to dapple the sidewalk in spots of light.
Rushing vehicles sped by.
Yet she and she stood by the roadside, as if deaf to the world, hearing only each other’s breaths mingling and cycling in the air.
I want to hug her.
I want to kiss her.
It was a desire surging from the depths of her heart, so intense that Lou Yixuan could barely control herself.
Even stronger than last time.
She could even imagine the feel of her lips brushing Lin Huayan’s— that soft, delicate pressure, like a warm spring breeze dispersing all her gloom.
But she didn’t dare. She didn’t dare be reckless, didn’t dare let this sudden impulse disturb the Lin Huayan who had finally let her true feelings show.
As a compromise, their hands clasped together under the sunlight.
Lin Huayan’s hand was very warm, though her fingers trembled slightly.
As if resisting something, struggling against something—or hiding her inner turmoil.
The warmth from Lin Huayan’s palm seeped through their skin into Lou Yixuan’s, gradually chasing away the chill, quickly restoring the temperature that had cooled since yesterday.
“I’ll listen to you and put on a bandage before heading back, but… I want you to come with me to buy a new one,” Lou Yixuan said, her voice laced with tentative gentleness.
But Lin Huayan showed no reaction, so she resorted to her old trick, playing the delicate little white flower.
For some reason, Lou Yixuan preferred seeing Lin Huayan full of vigor, scolding her heartily, over this lost and forlorn look.
“The wound may be small, but it still hurts if it gets bumped. And…”
She squeezed Lin Huayan’s hand gently, as tender as stroking the feathers of a startled little bird, afraid of hurting her, afraid of scaring her away.
“Teacher Lin hugged my waist in the supermarket just now. Isn’t it fair if I hold your hand now?”
Lou Yixuan used her left hand to hold Lin Huayan’s.
And today,
That hand bore no ring.
After being pulled, Lin Huayan’s hand stayed still—one part worry over bumping the scrape on the back of Lou Yixuan’s hand, and one part reluctance to let go.
“To the pharmacy.”
After a brief lapse, Lin Huayan curled her fingers, gently interlocking with Lou Yixuan’s, and led her forward.
Only when holding her like this could she be sure Lou Yixuan was truly being good, truly obedient.
Lou Yixuan’s body temperature was low, her hand cool.
Had the hand warmer she’d given her run out? Or had Lou Yixuan stopped using it after that day because she hadn’t bought it herself?
Whichever it was, she wanted to warm her hand, even if just for this moment.
The pharmacy wasn’t far—a few dozen meters away.
Once inside, Lou Yixuan didn’t let go. With her free right hand, she grabbed a box of bandages from a shelf by the door and took it to the counter.
She’d originally wanted Lin Huayan to pay for her, but she didn’t want to release the hand she was holding.
So she paid herself.
Mobile payment was quick—a single tap.
Lin Huayan didn’t let go either, not wanting to tussle by the roadside; pulling her straight to the parking lot was more convenient.
“Then, could Teacher Lin trouble herself to drive me to school?” Lou Yixuan was the picture of obedience now, her coquettish plea all soft and wheedling. “Teacher Lin, please drive me~”
“Stop fooling around. Watch the road.” Lin Huayan felt ants crawling all over her, from skin to heart, unbearably itchy.
But the other woman wouldn’t quit while she was ahead, pressing her whole body close, shifting from holding hands to hugging her arm. “My class is at one. Teacher Lin, you’ve got half an hour.”
“Careful with your hand.” Lin Huayan didn’t turn her head, but her pace quickened noticeably.
It was a minor injury, but that didn’t stop it from hurting her heart.
Lou Yixuan matched her steps, her gaze never leaving Lin Huayan’s profile. Was there anything in the world more entertaining than discovering Teacher Lin blushing?
Her bare face was cool-toned white, framed by silver glasses; that quietly blooming flush was impossibly eye-catching.
Lin Huayan seemed to notice too, deliberately tilting her head leftward.
Lou Yixuan was pressed too close—every breath filled with Lou Yixuan’s perfume. She didn’t wear any herself and knew little about scents, unsure what brand it was.
But it smelled wonderful.
Deeply moving.
Like spring vines twining around her, circle by circle.
Blossoming into the purest white flowers, one by one.
In the parking lot, Lin Huayan first placed the chocolates on the back seat. Once in the car, she reached out for the bandages. “Hand them over. I’ll put it on for you.”
“Oh.” Lou Yixuan had held the box the whole way without moving, waiting for Lin Huayan to take the initiative.
She wanted to see Lin Huayan anxious for her, worried for her, flustered for her—because those looks all proved Lin Huayan’s care and affection.
And that’s why she could keep up the shameless act.
Playing a role Lin Huayan could accept, one that fit her; exploring a relationship Lin Huayan could accept with her.
It wasn’t shameless pestering—she now had the leverage and chips to rally.
Namely, Lin Huayan’s care and affection.
Lou Yixuan had bought cartoon bandages with patterns—mint green with a gray-and-white long-eared rabbit from some anime Lin Huayan didn’t recognize.
Before applying it, she wiped the area around the wound again with an alcohol swab.
She’d made Lou Yixuan do it herself back in the crowded supermarket, where she couldn’t relax.
“Don’t peel off this bit of scab yet. Wait until it’s healed more and doesn’t hurt as much. Keep it dry in the meantime.”
“Mm, I’ll listen to Teacher Lin.”
Lou Yixuan’s heart bubbled with delight, her words tinged with sweetness.
This was Cupid’s gift—a perfect sympathy ploy; why not use it? “Not sure if it’ll scar.”
Once the bandage was on, Lin Huayan punched in the navigation. Hearing the scar concern, she pondered it too. “Shouldn’t.”
“If Teacher Lin says it won’t, then it definitely won’t.”
“…” Lin Huayan started the car and pulled out of the lot.
On the highway, Lou Yixuan fell quiet, scrolling on her phone.
Time was tight, and midday traffic was a bit congested; Lin Huayan focused on driving and didn’t pay attention to what the passenger was doing.
Finally near the school, just as Lin Huayan thought Lou Yixuan would ask to be dropped at the roadside, Lou Yixuan spoke up. “Please drive into the school, Teacher Lin.”
“…Alright.”
At the gate, Lou Yixuan rolled down the window and leaned out, waving. “Brother Fu, open up—it’s me.”
Outside vehicles needed registration; Lou Yixuan wanted to save time.
“Ah, Teacher Lou. Got it, opening now.”
Fu Xianjin was Haifan Art School’s security captain, a retired soldier in his forties. “You ordered takeout, right? Want me to grab it for you? Or pick it up later yourself?”
“I’ll head over right away to get it.”
The barrier lifted. As Lin Huayan drove in, Lou Yixuan called out again. “Teacher Lin, park here for a sec.”
The car stopped; Lou Yixuan hopped out. “Wait for me.”
She dashed to the guard booth, found her takeout in the deep blue bag, pulled out one box, then ran back.
Leaning in, she placed the bag on the passenger seat and shook the box in her hand. “Teacher Lin, the sushi I ordered—the flavor you like. One box each. Consider it lunch together.”
“You drive in and turn around. I’ll walk over and eat a couple pieces on the way to tide me over.”
“Anyway, thanks for today. The chocolates—” Lou Yixuan glanced at the big bag in the back, “—perfect for tomorrow afternoon’s class meeting. You hand them out. Last time I treated; this time you do. One each, fair and square. No objections, Teacher Lin?”
“…Alright. No objections.”
“See you next week then. I’m off. Eat your lunch—don’t waste it.”
Under Lou Yixuan’s gaze, Lin Huayan nodded.
Lou Yixuan nodded approvingly. “That’s more like it. You need to be obedient too.”
“…” Lin Huayan’s heart rate spiked; she turned to stare straight ahead. “Teacher Lou will be late if you don’t go.”
“Fine, I’m going. Bye-bye.”
Lou Yixuan was in high spirits, her steps light and bouncy as she walked off, opening the box to savor her food.
Haifan Art School’s campus wasn’t as large as Tianmu Middle School. Lin Huayan drove in but didn’t turn at the first fork—instead, she looped around the driveway once.
This feeling was so strange, so wondrous.
Dropping Lou Yixuan off at work, dropping the person she liked off at work—did others feel this too?
A subtle joy, a subtle… pride.
Not for herself, but for the sweetheart whose life and career were on the rise.
…
Lin Huayan actually had work today too—the midterm math exams she hadn’t finished grading.
Tomorrow was Monday: scores to tally across subjects, lectures to prepare, class and department and grade-level summaries. Next Monday, parent-teacher conferences for each class.
Plenty of busywork.
But not even an hour after she returned to her dorm and opened the grading system, Qin Fengru barged in unannounced as usual, arms full of bags big and small.
“You do your thing; I’ll put these away.” Qin Fengru acted right at home, sorting fruits, snacks, daily necessities into categories and stowing them neatly.
Once organized, she headed to the bookshelf, reaching for an item on top.
“Don’t touch it.” Lin Huayan stopped her in time.
She stood and walked over in a few steps. “Not finished assembling. It’ll fall apart if jostled.”
Qin Fengru withdrew her hand, muttering, “Fine, I won’t. I just saw you busy and thought I’d help assemble it.”
She leaned in for a closer look, then pointed at the two-thirds-done display on the shelf in shock. “You’re assembling… a rose? My eyes aren’t failing me? You never accept little gifts from students. This—did you buy it yourself? No way, Lin Huayan. You buying girly little trinkets?!”
“A colleague gave it to me,” Lin Huayan said. “A young new teacher.”
“Oh, that tracks.”
Lately too busy, Lin Huayan hadn’t finished assembling. Of the four wooden puzzle flowers, she’d only unpacked and test-fitted the pink rose.
Qin Fengru picked up the other three. “This girl’s a real artsy type. So many flowers—finish one and give it to me? I like this one. Called… oh, I see, Purple Lilac.”
“Sorry.”
Lin Huayan took them back from her. “Regifting is rude. If you like it, I…”
“Nah, forget it. Just curiosity; I was kidding. Keep them.”
Qin Fengru had no interest in such knickknacks. If not for Lin Huayan assembling them, if not on her shelf, she’d barely glance at them outside.
Her gaze shifted to the desk, spotting another “novelty.”
She strode over in three steps. “Am I hitting the jackpot today? Your room’s full of ‘weird stuff’?”
Qin Fengru eyed the packaging, full of grievance. “Sushi, Lin Huayan! I told you ages ago to go with me to this place, and what’d you say? You said you don’t eat Japanese food!”
“I really don’t eat Japanese food. I’ve only had sushi once or twice, and only this flavor.”
In Lin Huayan’s simple view, Japanese food meant all sorts of raw sashimi. Qin Fengru could handle sashimi, but she preferred cooked dishes.
Loving cooked food and hating fishy smells—that was a shared taste with Lou Yixuan.
“I know what Japanese stuff you like. Sushi like this? Not it. And definitely not this kind.”
The first half pleased Qin Fengru, but the rest grated.
Lin Huayan was basically saying their tastes didn’t align, leaving Qin Fengru irritated and restless.
“If you don’t wanna share, just say so. I don’t want it anyway.”
She glared at Lin Huayan furiously and snapped, “You and your few words—when you do speak, a hundred sentences in, maybe one is pleasant to hear.”
“I’ll brew you some tea to cool your temper.”
Lin Huayan knew how to appease Qin Fengru, but she was also the one who blew her up in anger every few days.
Qin Fengru plopped down on the single-seater sofa. “Fine, brew it. Use the floral tea I brought today. Once it’s ready, we’ll sip while we talk.”
“Brewing tea is quick, but if you want to talk business, it’ll have to wait until I’m done with this batch of work.”
“No rush—handle your stuff. I can wait.”
“…”
What had been an utterly boring afternoon flew by in a blur, thanks to the sushi Lou Yixuan had bought and the floral tea Qin Fengru had brought, turning a dull half-day surprisingly swift.
Qin Fengru scrolled on her phone for over three hours, playing invisible wallflower. Only when Lin Huayan closed her laptop did she scoot closer. “Done grading the papers?”
Lin Huayan gave a soft “Mm” in response, then headed to the balcony to wash her hands.
“It’s getting late. I need to head to the office to prep for evening self-study. If you don’t have anything else, head home. I’m skipping dinner.”
“Who said anything about dinner?”
Qin Fengru’s temper flared right up. “I’m here to tell you about my wedding—about you being my bridesmaid! You bailed on me the first time right before, ditching me last-minute. And now, for the second time, you won’t even show? Planning to ghost me again?”
Lin Huayan listened to her endless nagging without a hint of impatience, responding steadily, “I’ve told you in advance every time, haven’t I? I don’t do bridesmaid duty. You’re the one ignoring my honest feedback and insisting on making things hard for me. A forced melon isn’t sweet—might as well plan ahead this time and ask one of your other girlfriends…”
“Hah, you Lin Huayan—soft or hard, you won’t budge. Made of stone, heart of iron?” Qin Fengru fumed, rolling her eyes at her.
She turned back into the room and snatched the box of sushi Lin Huayan had left by her computer, wolfing it down in under a minute—the remaining half box vanished in a flash.
Lin Huayan wouldn’t share any with her? Fine, she’d eat it all herself!
Still fuming, Qin Fengru crumpled the empty box and tossed it in the trash.
Lin Huayan leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed as she watched. “Qin Fengru, pushing forty and still throwing tantrums like a kid.”
“Mind your own business.”
“I’m not.”
As she said it, Lin Huayan’s thoughts drifted to earlier that day, to Lou Yixuan, and a smile crept onto her face unbidden.
But her smile didn’t douse Qin Fengru’s fire—it poured fuel on it. “You can laugh while I’m this pissed? Trying to force a total break between us, huh?”
“Have some water.”
Lin Huayan walked in with a smile, picking up Qin Fengru’s cup of floral tea. “Don’t choke after scarfing all that down in one go.”
“You finally remember to care? Better if I did choke.”
Qin Fengru had a sharp tongue but a soft heart. She took the cup, drained it, then handed the empty one back to Lin Huayan. “More. Pour me another.”
“Right away, President Qin.” Not just anyone got Lin Huayan’s tea service—Qin Fengru was one of the few.
“To make it easy for you, I picked an auspicious date on Saturday. And you? Won’t even see me off the single life. Spill it—what taboo, what sob story? Give me something reasonable, and I’ll buy it.”
With the wedding so close, Qin Fengru figured she wouldn’t dare say anything inauspicious.
Lin Huayan handed over the half-filled cup. “I… don’t marry, don’t have kids. Not fit to send you off into marriage.”
“Pfft, ‘don’t marry, don’t have kids’ my ass!”
Qin Fengru was utterly speechless, decorum tossed aside as the crude words flew out. “That’s not ‘can’t’—that’s ‘won’t.’ I’ve gone with you to all those checkups over the years. Think I don’t know if you’ve got issues down there? Quit feeding me these made-up excuses. Might as well say you’re one with Buddha, all desires emptied, too enlightened for my worldly hall!”
