Chapter 77

He Huan and Du Heming both noticed Lu Lingxuan handing something to Lin Huayan, but the two exchanged a glance and fell silent, asking nothing.

Even if curiosity burned about that unidentified item, they respected Lin Huayan’s privacy.

After getting in the car, Lin Huayan stared blankly at the thing in her hand.

It was a “gift” from Lu Lingxuan—a business card. Lou Yixuan’s business card. Lou Yixuan’s card from Australia.

An extraordinarily creative business card.

Unlike the usual paper or PVC ones, this card had a metallic texture. The top half was translucent with hollowed-out electroplated capital letters spelling “LOU YI XUAN,” while the bottom half was silver with three lines of English introduction.

The card oozed artistry and screamed the “prestige” of its owner.

Many people love her. She’ll be fine.

Of course she believed it.

Of course she knew.

“Teacher He, drop me off at the neighborhood entrance, sorry for the trouble.” As the car pulled out of the garage, Lin Huayan asked He Huan to pull over.

“Teacher Lin, you’re really not heading back to school?” Du Heming thought she was just making up an excuse on the spot, something to see Lou on Thursday, out of necessity.

“Yeah, suddenly I want to go home and see my parents.”

“…” That was sudden. She’d just gone back for Labor Day, and only three days had passed.

On Teacher He, it would be perfectly normal. On Teacher Lin… not so much.

But she could understand. Teacher Lin needed some time alone, should have some time alone. It would be even better if she could rethink things and make a new decision.

Lin Huayan got out of the car.

Her feet moved mechanically forward, slowly along the road, in the opposite direction from He Huan and the others.

Taxi after taxi drove past, but she ignored them completely.

The streetlights’ hazy glow seemed especially dim in the early summer night, stretching her shadow longer and longer.

That lonely, desolate silhouette—Du Heming watched from the window for a long time, until it vanished, until her eyes grew sore, before turning back.

“Teacher He, I really don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?”

“Don’t get why Teacher Lin clearly likes her but won’t fight to be together.”

“But how do you know she hasn’t tried?”

“…”

“Not all efforts are visible, and not all efforts yield the results you hope for.”

“…”

“Want to know why I didn’t go home this week?”

“Wh-why?”

“Because I didn’t want to go on blind dates.”

“Teacher He…” A flicker of light sparked in Du Heming’s eyes.

“Not for anyone else. Just for myself.”

The light in Du Heming’s eyes dimmed again. She turned to gaze out the window. “Yeah, you’re right. We should live for ourselves. What you’re doing, what you’re saying—it’s all correct. People should live for themselves.”

She rolled up the window. The car fell quiet, save for the faint hum of the engine.

No longer disturbing He Huan’s driving, she settled her mind and lowered her head to message Lou Yixuan: 【Lou Lou, the Friday after next, evening—dinner with the four of us?】

【Lou Yixuan: Sure, I’ll block that day for you. Whether we all make it or not, I’ll be there.】

【Du Heming: Yeah, you’re the best. Also, no more birthday gifts for me. I’ve already gotten my favorite one.】

【Lou Yixuan: Oh? What gift? Who from?】

【Du Heming: From baby Xuanxuan.】

【Lou Yixuan: Lu Lingxuan is toxic, you’ve caught it [sneaky grin]】

【Du Heming: Gladly infected by her. You’re our best baby.】

【Lou Yixuan: Teacher Du, you’re my baby too [hug]】

Du Heming’s nose stung and her eyes heated. She didn’t reply. Such a wonderful Lou Yixuan—how could Teacher Lin bear to let her go? How could she bear to give her up?

He Huan noticed Du Heming’s expressions shifting from smiles to lows but said nothing to comfort her.

She feared Du Heming’s gloom was because of her—and she knew full well that she bore the main responsibility for Du Heming turning sullen and listless.

The old Du Heming, who always brought joy to others, had vanished because of her.

Du Heming was unhappy.

And her own happiness… seemed gone too.

Back at the school garage, after parking steadily, He Huan quietly glanced sideways at the person dozing in the passenger seat.

Du Heming wasn’t the refined, pretty, dolled-up type among the women she’d known, nor some natural beauty, but Du Heming was like a sun radiating its own warmth—bright, pure, comfortable, cozy. And safe.

That’s why she’d never worried about Du Heming pestering her endlessly, or turning love into hate and revenge, or forcing her in any way.

Lin Huayan and Lou Yixuan…

She didn’t know what efforts Lin Huayan had made, but every time, she’d seen Lou Yixuan’s.

Du Heming had seen them too, hence her question.

Or maybe Du Heming’s “I don’t get it” was really directed at her.

Du Heming had noticed, hadn’t she?

Noticed that her “I don’t like you” was a lie. After all, she’d truly fallen for her.

Words could lie—written or spoken—but a racing heart couldn’t fake that, nor could flushed cheeks and heated ears.

That accidental “kiss” in the dorm not long ago—the one that barely qualified as a kiss—had kept her sleepless for many nights.

Sleepless amid the blushing heat… and self-reproach in the blushing heat.

“We’re at school? Why didn’t you wake me?” Du Heming stirred, rubbing her neck, not rushing to open the door.

He Huan’s eyes darted away, guilty from her earlier “peeking”: “It’s not that late. We can sit a bit before heading up. Tomorrow’s the weekend.”

The first half made Du Heming think nothing of it.

But those superfluous words “tomorrow’s the weekend” made her overthink instead.

Since He Huan wasn’t in a hurry either, a few extra minutes were a win for her.

“Teacher He.”

“Yeah?”

“Next-next week’s my birthday. Friday night dinner—you can come, right? Just the four of us.”

Du Heming asked timidly, laced with pleading.

Booking two weeks ahead—surely over an eighty percent chance of success. She hoped.

“You don’t need to get me anything. Just accept my invite, join me—us—for dinner, and I’ll be thrilled. This semester’s half over, and the four of us haven’t hung out yet…”

“I accept.”

Du Heming, I accept your invitation. “I’ll go. We’ll all go.”

He Huan’s gentle, firm reply sent Du Heming’s heart racing. She turned away, murmuring, “Thanks.”

Then she opened the car door. “Back to the dorms.”

She feared she’d mistake He Huan’s kindness for feelings toward her.

Lou Yixuan’s invite, Lin Huayan’s invite—He Huan would go to those too. It wasn’t just hers.

The garage sat under the Art Classroom building.

Three paths led out: the vehicle entrance, and two stairwells to different directions.

One closer to the Teaching Building, the other to the Dormitory Building.

Tonight, naturally, the one nearer the dorms.

But they hadn’t expected—the lights were out.

At the entrance, Du Heming stomped and clapped to no avail. “Motion-sensor lights are busted.”

“No worries, phone flashlight.”

As He Huan reached into her bag, her hand was grasped. “I’ll light the way. You hold onto me.”

The startling body heat seared through He Huan’s reason. She instinctively pulled back, but Du Heming gripped tighter.

Phone in hand, but without turning on the flashlight, Du Heming, brooking no argument, pulled He Huan into the stairwell. After one flight, the darkness deepened.

He Huan’s heart pounded as she tugged. “Du Heming!”

The next second, she was pulled into an embrace. “Teacher He!”

Softness pressed against her chest, breaths mingling in rises and falls—He Huan’s mind went blank with static.

Her habitual low ponytail, combined with the hug’s angle, led to unavoidable, real skin-on-skin contact.

Du Heming’s cheek against her ear, Du Heming’s jaw against her neck.

Every point of contact burned hot.

He Huan had never been hugged so fiercely by a woman in her life—like she was being embedded into her body, locked tight in those arms.

A strange feeling she couldn’t name, but she didn’t resist.

Moments later, Du Heming eased her grip slightly and softly called, “Teacher He.”

The called one’s heart and body trembled; her breath hitched.

“Can’t we just try?

“Just a tiny bit of liking from you, just a tiny bit—try with me, okay? Just try, okay?

“I really, really like you. I want so badly to love you. Just for your sake, let me love you, okay?

“I’m self-respecting too. Never flirted around or messed about.

“Don’t worry, I won’t demand equal love. Just be yourself. Tell me to stop anytime, you can…”

“Du Heming.”

He Huan’s hand trembled as it rose to her back, clutching her clothes bit by bit. “I don’t like you like this.”

Don’t like…

Hearing “don’t like” from He Huan’s lips for the second time, Du Heming felt a sharp pang. Tears spilled out.

But as she despaired and moved to let go, He Huan continued softly by her ear: “I don’t like you belittling yourself, and I don’t like you unhappy.”

“Teacher He…”

Cool tears trickled down her neck like ice picks piercing skin. The thick nasal tone stabbed at He Huan’s heart and guts; her throat clogged, speechless.

—Teacher He, I’ve graduated, about to turn adult. Can you reconsider our relationship?

—So on graduation day, all those words to me were fake? Lies? These years watching me obey you like a fool, strung along—does that give you teacherly satisfaction?

—Then why’d you pull me down back then? Why?!

—Teacher He, once more: happy new marriage. May you and Mr. Jiang harmonize like lute and zither, bear fine sons soon. Work smooth, all wishes granted. Hope you never get another troublesome student like me.

—As you wished, no more emotional entanglements, no more messages disturbing your life. Be happy.

She’d already pushed away one girl who really, really liked her.

After that, she’d never imagined meeting another who’d say “I really like you” to her.

One who knew she’d divorced a man, yet still said “I want so badly to love you.”

The past…

She hadn’t really lied to Ming You. She’d lied to herself.

To this day, she’d never truly fought for her own happiness.

Her so-called efforts only kept her from misery—never brought her joy.

—I wasn’t one to overthink before, but once I realized my feelings for you, I thought so much.

—Even shamelessly imagined: if you accept me, if we could be together, how to coax you so your happy days outnumber the sad, make you believe again—this world has real love, love meant for you.

—He Huan, I don’t want you acting old, resigning to age.

—What’s 39? From 18 as adult, just twenty years of independent life. Decades ahead to call your own, a long second half—why not live free and true?

Yeah, decades ahead—why couldn’t she have her own love, her own happiness?

Was she really going to lie to herself again, repeat the same mistakes?

“Du Heming, you said you’d make me happy.”

He Huan pulled back slightly, tilting her head up, gaze tender as her thumb gently wiped Du Heming’s tears. “So don’t cry.”

Only faint light filtered from the stairwell below, so dim their shadows melted into the walls.

They couldn’t make out each other’s faces, but felt breaths and heartbeats clearly.

And the shimmering glint in tearful eyes.

Du Heming froze in excitement, afraid to move—like a dream, lest motion shatter it.

Her brain short-circuited, unable to parse He Huan’s words.

She let He Huan wipe her tears, not daring a big sniff amid her stuffy nose— the moment too perfect to ruin, lest she make a fool of herself again.

She always made silly blunders.

It wasn’t that she feared being laughed at by He Huan—she just wanted to be proper and earnest in those special moments.

From the moment they’d first met, He Huan had pegged Du Heming as the striking beauty type.

At a glance, she had thick brows and big eyes, yet no trace of ruggedness. Her hair was lush and dense, her eyelashes and irises a deep shade, her lips naturally flushed with red.

Her bone structure was chiseled, light and shadow playing in layers across her features. Dressed in a neutral style, she’d have girls trailing after her, gushing that she was A or handsome.

He Huan knew Du Heming was well aware of her own standout looks, which was why she rarely bothered with makeup.

A beauty without makeup was just right—perfectly pitched.

No makeup, no forced style, just her natural face and authentic self, and she was still handsome, still beautiful, still utterly captivating.

The more you looked at that face, the better it got. If it wasn’t attraction, if it wasn’t liking her… then what was it?

Her fingertip trailed from the corner of Du Heming’s eye to the corner of her lips. She had never touched another girl’s lips besides her own. Du Heming’s were fuller than hers—probably softer, too?

Last time…

This time, she’s right here in front of me. Why dwell on the past?

Her left hand slid along Du Heming’s jawline to rest on her shoulder, while her right thumb traced the curve of Du Heming’s lower lip.

“Du Heming, I want to…”

The words “try it” swirled in her mind a few times but never made it past her lips.

Even someone as dense as Du Heming could pick up on the heart-fluttering signal He Huan was sending out.

So Du Heming wrapped her right arm around He Huan’s waist, caught He Huan’s left wrist with her own left hand, and gently moved those wandering fingers away from her lips. Tentatively, inch by inch, she leaned in… lined up with He Huan’s mouth… and kissed her.