Chapter 7

Thanks to He Huan not taking out her bottle, Lou Yixuan’s gesture didn’t seem like it was purely out of pity for Lin Huayan alone.

She was simpler than Du Heming had thought.

What Du Heming had in mind was that she and Lou Yixuan could carry their own water—no need to trouble Teacher He or Teacher Lin.

She had only impulsively dragged a companion out for a stroll, stuffing her phone and tissues into her pockets for a light outing. No one had brought a bag.

The weight of four bottles wasn’t light or heavy; each could take one and drink as they walked, finishing them off quickly.

It saved them from passing the bag back and forth, especially since it wasn’t convenient for anyone to carry.

What Lou Yixuan was thinking was that the bag’s handle would chafe Lin Huayan’s hand.

Handing over a plastic shopping bag wasn’t like passing an AC remote. No matter what, fingers would brush during the exchange.

Unless the person receiving it deliberately avoided it—hooking the bag by gripping the handle firmly and lifting it away.

Lou Yixuan didn’t do that.

Her fingers slipped through the transparent plastic handle, naturally brushing against Lin Huayan’s hand.

A little cool.

Just like before.

That was Lin Huayan’s first sensation upon being touched by Lou Yixuan.

Du Heming was dumbfounded.

Then why did I even take out two bottles?

“Teacher Du, give me one—I’ve been wanting to drink,” He Huan came to her rescue.

“Oh, sure.”

This time, Du Heming got it. She clamped one bottle under her arm, unscrewed the cap on the other, and handed it over.

He Huan took it with a smile. “Thanks.”

Her voice was soft and gentle, floating lightly into Du Heming’s ears, swimming all the way to the depths, pleasing even her brain and heart.

She and He Huan weren’t that familiar yet.

He Huan hadn’t been at Tianmu Middle School as long as she had. Before this year’s freshmen, they hadn’t taught the same grade, and since they weren’t in the same subject, there hadn’t been much chance for interaction.

Only after arriving at the Military Training Base, sharing meals and chats every day, did they truly get to “know” each other.

Seeing the other two drinking water, Lou Yixuan asked, “Does Teacher Lin want some now?”

Lin Huayan shook her head.

Lou Yixuan didn’t drink either. After He Huan and Du Heming had theirs, she had them mark their bottles and put them back in the bag.

He Huan didn’t stand on ceremony, rolling up the label and tucking it into her pocket.

But Du Heming felt awkward about it.

“Either let me carry it, or I’ll just hold my own.”

Lou Yixuan held out her other hand. “Teacher Du, I’m the least experienced and youngest here—this little task should be mine. If you don’t let me contribute, how can I feel right ‘taking’ from you seniors?”

Du Heming was stunned. She hadn’t expected this prim and proper young lady to pull the “imposing on others” routine!

This gap moe was way too foul!

Tearing off the label, Du Heming placed her bottle in Lou Yixuan’s palm and conceded. “Eloquent Teacher Lou, you win—I can’t argue with you.”

“Thanks.”

With the bottle in hand, she instantly reverted to her clear-featured, soft, and cute original state—her voice all dainty too.

It left Du Heming dazed.

This little fairy wouldn’t be putting a spell on me, would she?

The four walked along the main road for a bit. Du Heming checked their bearings and asked Lin Huayan for confirmation. “Teacher Lin, shouldn’t we take that path to the right up ahead?”

She vaguely remembered that during the last military training session, an instructor had led the teachers out and given a rundown of the base’s surroundings.

Passing this spot, he’d said: Cut through the path for twenty minutes, and you’ll reach the best sunset viewing spot.

Lin Huayan glanced over. “Yeah, that’s the one.”

Du Heming took the lead. “Good thing it’s cool up here in the mountains—no sweat even after walking this long.”

As they walked, to liven up the half-dead atmosphere, she brought up entertainment topics.

“Do Teacher Lou and Teacher He watch variety shows in their free time? There’s this super popular music variety on Hengyuan TV lately—the concept of golden hits from different eras resonating together is great, and the guests and host are top-notch too. I watched and listened, and it really moved me.”

“You mean the one hosted by Ming You, Tomorrow’s Echo?”

“Yeah, that’s it. You watch it too?” Finding common ground with Lou Yixuan for once, Du Heming’s excitement was visibly skyrocketing.

“I’ve seen some highlight stages on Weibo and short videos—not following every episode.”

“It’s really good,” He Huan chimed in softly.

“Teacher He watches too?” Du Heming’s eyes lit up as she pressed. “Do you watch every episode, or…”

“Every episode… I catch them. Listen to songs, kill time.”

He Huan’s “kill time” deflated half of Du Heming’s enthusiasm, but Lin Huayan beside her carefully pondered the extraordinary meaning behind those four words.

If it’s really just to kill time like she says, is there any need to watch every night with headphones on, eyes glued to the screen?

She hadn’t meant to “spy” on He Huan’s privacy—the Tomorrow’s Echo logo had just been too conspicuous.

The mood plummeted. Noticing, Lou Yixuan perked things up again. “Speaking of which, Ming You-senpai and I are both Haifan alumni—she’s three years ahead of me.”

Du Heming was shocked. “For real? Ming You was an arts candidate from Haifan?”

She watched the show periodically and really admired host Ming You, but she wasn’t obsessed enough to dig into her past.

“Yeah. She majored in broadcasting and hosting, got into Hengyuan Media University, and stayed in Hengyuan after graduation.”

Lou Yixuan recalled for a moment before continuing. “I even saw her twice at school. Once was the winter of my third year of junior high—the admissions office teacher was super eager to recruit me to Haifan, offering free tuition and inviting me to the arts festival, which happened to feature her year. The second time was the winter break of my senior year of high school; she came back as a TA.”

Du Heming was hooked and sidled up to Lou Yixuan. “Your school’s got game—producing a big star like Ming You. And you too, a hot commodity even in junior high. No signature or photo with your senpai back then?”

“Nah. But Ming You-senpai was always super popular—tons of fans at school.”

Lou Yixuan switched the bag to her other hand, then casually dipped her head, always mindful to keep the perfect distance from Lin Huayan.

Not too far, not too close.

“She’s an incredibly brave person—right in the middle of her rising career, she went public on social media about her same-sex partner.”

“Definitely brave. I remember that—two or three years ago, right?”

“The reveal said her wife is a teacher at Hengyuan University.”

“Brave ones enjoy the world first—they make a great pair.”

Same-sex marriage laws had passed by then, but public acceptance was still low. For public figures, coming out as gay risked derailing a promising career.

Talking about same-sex romance stirred up ugly memories for both Lou Yixuan and Du Heming, their moods turning heavy in unison.

As for the other two, they fell utterly silent.

Under the sunset, their shadows intertwined.

Four elongated silhouettes, each concealing unspeakable secrets of the heart.

“Enough of that.”

Du Heming stretched her arms and pointed to the open expanse ahead. “We’re almost there—let’s pick up the pace before the sun clocks out.”

Reaching the small hilltop clearing, the four were captivated by the view.

The sunset was like a master painter, wielding her vibrant brush across the sky’s canvas in strokes of orange-red and gold.

The clouds on the horizon, bathed in its glow, shifted from deep purple to pale pink to warm orange-yellow, weaving dreamlike ribbons that drifted lazily.

The silhouettes of the endless surrounding mountains complemented the sky’s colors perfectly.

What Lou Yixuan hadn’t expected was spotting Xiaoniu Peak in the distance—the place she and Lin Huayan had once visited together.

Teacher Lin, next time when we have more time, we have to come back to Xiaoniu Peak for a sunset.

Okay, after your college entrance exams, we’ll come again.

But later, they never “came again.”

There was no “later.”

She didn’t know how many sunsets passed in those three thousand days and nights. She only knew they’d missed the sunset at Xiaoniu Peak—and missed eight years.

“Oh my god, this is too beautiful.”

Du Heming exclaimed in awe, whipping out her phone to snap photos. “Teacher Lou, Teacher He, Teacher Lin—let’s take a group selfie here to remember this!”

Her words sparked ripples. Two gazes collided unexpectedly in midair.

Like fish from lake and deep sea leaping out of the water at the same time.

Eyeing each other from afar.

Whose gaze carried a hint of longing, yearning to bridge the chasm between them and embrace her earnest soul?

Whose bore a subtle sorrow, like an unfinished book brimming with unspoken words and unresolved emotions?

In that moment, their heartbeats synced.

Each thump conveying emotions long suppressed, hard to name.

Yet every subtle expression was etched with struggle and fear.

Du Heming snapped a few scenic shots and called to the other three, who were spacing out. “Come on, come on—don’t waste this view. Don’t worry, I’m great at editing photos.”