Lou Yixuan stepped back a few paces and gazed at the artwork she had created under Du Heming’s “guidance,” a faint sadness welling up in her heart.
“Teacher He, Teacher Lin, please look here.”
Du Heming rapped the blackboard twice to draw the attention of the two women below, then launched into her explanation.
She straightened her posture, adopting the aura she usually had in class. “Dear students, this is the birthday wish your Teacher Du wants most to come true. The four of us once watched a sunset together, so I am extremely eager—extremely expectant—for the four of us to watch a sunrise together again someday.”
As she spoke, Lou Yixuan silently descended from the stage without a word.
At the square table, Lin Huayan sat next to He Huan, so Lou Yixuan took the seat to Lin Huayan’s right, leaving the spot to He Huan’s left for Du Heming.
The dishes on the table had mostly arrived, covered with transparent warming lids, ready for them to dig in once everyone was seated.
Lin Huayan pulled out some wet wipes. “Wipe your hands.”
“Thanks.”
“I want one too.”
Du Heming leaped down in one big stride and extended her hand to He Huan for a wipe.
He Huan also had the habit of carrying wet wipes and fished a pack out of her bag to hand over. “Where do you want to go watch the sunrise?”
Delighted by the response from her beloved, Du Heming wiped her hands while fantasizing aloud. “That spot Lou-lou went to for fieldwork the other day looks perfect.”
She turned to Lou Yixuan. “Lou-lou, didn’t you say you wanted to go back? Let’s go together—to the foot of the snow-capped mountains on the plateau to watch the sunrise. Isn’t there a legend there too? They say anyone who sees the Sunshine over the Golden Mountain will be blessed by the spirits with lifelong happiness.”
She wanted lifelong happiness with He Huan, and she wanted Lou Yixuan to have lifelong happiness with Teacher Lin too. Best of all, she hoped their two pairs could remain friends forever, the kind who could meet up like this often.
“Teacher Du, I’m going to the restroom.”
Lou Yixuan still clutched her wet wipe. Without asking if anyone wanted to join her, she rose and headed out.
Caught off guard, Du Heming stood up to follow. “Lou-lou, wait—”
He Huan held her back and turned to Lin Huayan instead. “Should we go check on her?”
Lin Huayan shook her head. “Let her go alone.”
Lou Yixuan had already let go of that sunset they’d missed eight years ago—how could she possibly still hope for a new “sunrise” with her?
Having unwittingly done a “good deed” that backfired, Du Heming looked a bit down. He Huan pulled a bottle of fruit beer from the table and handed it to her. “Our birthday girl—cheer up.”
…
Five or six minutes later, Lou Yixuan returned, her emotions steadied. Somehow, she’d gotten hold of a flower crown woven from fresh blooms and gently placed it on Du Heming’s head.
“Happy birthday, Teacher Du! Today, you’re our little fairy.”
“Ah, this… can I really wear this?” Du Heming fidgeted, worried she’d look out of place dressed like a fairy.
“Why not? Our Teacher Du is gorgeous—sweet one moment, sassy the next.” Lou Yixuan praised her.
“Gorgeous,” He Huan echoed, phone in hand. “Let me take a photo of you.”
Du Heming posed cooperatively for a few shots. Then she grabbed her own phone and, with the blackboard drawing as backdrop, snapped a group photo of the four of them to commemorate the moment.
Their positions matched the group shot from their sunset photo exactly.
Only this time, Lou Yixuan didn’t subconsciously lean her head toward Lin Huayan beside her.
After the photos, Lou Yixuan brought over the birthday cake, stuck in the candles, turned off the lights, and led He Huan and Lin Huayan in singing “Happy Birthday” to Du Heming.
Before blowing out the candles, Du Heming made two wishes.
First, that He Huan would be happy. Second, the one she’d voiced earlier—that the four of them could watch a sunrise together again.
She then sliced into the custom peach blossom-shaped cake, giving everyone a piece. Before digging into the meal, she removed the flower crown and set it aside. The four ate, drank, and chatted.
Du Heming drank the most, followed by Lin Huayan.
But the fruit beer was low-alcohol, and with their tolerances, they could easily down five bottles each without issue.
It just made their stomachs a bit bloated.
“Anyone else need the restroom?”
Lin Huayan answered Du Heming first. “Me too.”
He Huan waved it off—she had an average tolerance and was already slightly tipsy after two bottles; any more and she’d be drunk.
Lou Yixuan shook her head too. “You two go ahead.”
As they washed their hands after using the restroom, Lin Huayan suddenly asked Du Heming, “Are you and Teacher He together now?”
At the sink, Du Heming looked up. Through the mirror, she saw Lin Huayan focused on washing her hands and answered earnestly, “More precisely, we’re working toward being together.”
The subject was “we.”
Lin Huayan hadn’t stayed overnight at school much this semester, so she hadn’t run into He Huan visiting Du Heming’s dorm for “dates.”
The four hadn’t gathered in the cafeteria since the semester started either, so it was only today that she realized how intimate those two had become without anyone noticing.
Since they weren’t officially “together” yet, it was too soon to say “congratulations.”
But she genuinely wished them well from the heart.
“Here’s to Teacher Du getting your wish.”
“Thanks.”
Two more young women entered the restroom arm in arm, chattering about a massive trending topic.
“I just saw on Weibo—Hengyuan TV’s host Ming You announced her daughter’s 100-day milestone at 6:16 PM, with a photo of their family of three’s hands together at birth. The caption was ‘Me and hers, her’—oh my god, they’re so happy.”
“Yeah, she’s so brave. I still remember her announcement years ago about dating her girlfriend: ‘Me and mine, her.'”
“Our role model! Why haven’t I found a girlfriend who’s that beautiful, loyal, bold, and talented?”
“Get real—you’re all talk in relationships, three-minute flings, changing partners more often than outfits. Who’d stick with you till the end of time?”
“Hey, are you my bestie or what? Such a sharp tongue…”
Du Heming hadn’t brought her phone, so back in the private room, she hurriedly grabbed it and tapped into social media to check the details.
Sure enough, it topped the hot search list.
She showed it to Lou Yixuan. “Lou-lou, your senior Ming You is trending again today.”
“What?” Lou Yixuan took the phone.
“You’re so calm about it?”
“Hm? Oh, I heard rumors about this last year—they went abroad for the surgery to have the baby.”
Lou Yixuan skimmed the photo and handed the phone back. “Ling Xuan went to university in Hengyuan. By a stroke of luck, she and Ming You share mutual friends—they’re another same-sex couple who’s been married for a while too.”
“So they’re really…” happy.
Du Heming’s envious words trailed off as He Huan abruptly stood. “I’m heading to the restroom.”
He Huan moved quickly, her steps swift. By the time Du Heming turned, she only caught her back and didn’t notice the unnatural expression on her face.
Lou Yixuan had been talking with Du Heming and missed it too. Only Lin Huayan, another listener, caught the sudden storm cloud on He Huan’s face.
And in that moment, it clicked— the non-art major “star pupil” He Huan had once mentioned was Ming You.
There was a Ming You poster in the Haifan Hall of Fame; she’d seen it that time.
Graduated from Huai’an No. 3 Middle School.
He Huan had worked at Huai’an No. 3 Middle School before coming to Tianmu Middle School. So many coincidences stopped being coincidences.
“Teacher Du, you all keep chatting. I need some air—be right back.”
As Lin Huayan rose, she deliberately knocked her phone against the table to make them think she was stepping out for a call about work.
She had no intention of stirring up trouble.
But worried about He Huan, she headed straight for the restroom after leaving.
The path required two turns; she’d been there before, so she caught up to He Huan at the corner without delay.
Confirming He Huan had entered the restroom was enough—she didn’t pry by knocking on stall doors or asking if she was okay. Instead, she lingered by the sinks, scrolling news.
Each floor had separate men’s and women’s restrooms, heavy with air freshener that masked any odors.
In one stall, He Huan had rushed in and leaned against the partition, biting down hard on the back of her hand.
Tears poured down like rain.
How could she have imagined, after all these years—divorced, Ming You long married—that hearing about Ming You and Yan Ningxi living in perfect harmony, blissfully happy, would still hurt so much… she couldn’t even speak.
Her eardrums went deaf from holding back sobs, like countless bees stinging her temples, each heartbeat pounding pain again and again.
The overhead light illuminated her tear-distorted profile. Long-faded years collapsed into a black vortex, soaking those damp memories back into view before her eyes.
—Teacher He, the path you walked with me, your guidance and care—I cherish it all. From now on, I’ll respect you as before and strive to become your… proudest pupil.
—Whether twenty or thirty, it’s only life’s first half. We have a long second half ahead. Teacher He, don’t make yourself suffer so much.
—A child’s bond with its mother is fated, not forced. She probably doesn’t want to be born only to make her mom suffer again because of her.
—She’s your child. But if you don’t want her, that’s another story. Teacher He, only a child awaited and cherished by its parents is a true blessing of love—and that’s vital for her healthy growth.
—The envelope at the wedding held no school scholarship or family allowance—it was my first money earned on my own. Street photography for your thirtieth birthday.
—You asked if, in a what-if, I’d still walk toward you unwaveringly. The answer is… I would.
—I admit pursuing her at first was to get back at you. But later, I truly liked her. Today, it’s love deeper than like. I love Yan Ningxi more than myself.
—Teacher He, what’s between us is in the past—let it end here, scatter with the wind. Please don’t tell Teacher Yan; she’s innocent, and I don’t want her hurt. If you still resent me, I’ll apologize again, ten, hundred, thousand times… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Teacher He. Please forget it too.
How could she forget?
How was forgetting even possible?
She was the one who pulled the hopeless Ming You back from the sixth-floor railing. She coaxed Ming You into studying broadcasting. She taught Ming You makeup. She accompanied Ming You to the exams…
She had cared for Ming You tirelessly for three years, step by step entering her heart while placing Ming You in her own.
Ming You’s once-dreamed future had been filled entirely with her.
It should have been…
Ming You’s blissfully happy future should have been with her.
But the one without courage to love Ming You, without courage to include her in her future—it was her. She had pushed Ming You away, buried her own happiness with her own hands.
She had to swallow the bitter fruit she’d brewed herself—no one else to blame.
Her tears should have run dry the year Ming You told her “I will.”
But if there were an “if”…
Twelve summers ago, she would have pulled that girl—who’d given up Jingping Media University to be closer to her—into her arms. When she confessed, she would have bravely, firmly answered—
Yes.
Then perhaps she would be the one married to Ming You, with their daughter— no pain, no misfortune. How wonderful that would be.
But where were “ifs” in this world? Even if there were, why would one favor her?
He Huan emerged from the stall, tears smeared despite wiping them with her hand, and spotted Lin Huayan clearly waiting for her.
The restroom was empty of others now.
Lin Huayan walked over a few steps and offered the wet wipes she’d brought along. “If I didn’t miscalculate, it’s been at least ten years. After all this time, you still can’t move on?”
He Huan’s hand froze as she took the wipe.
Move on? How could she move on?
Hiding from everyone, she’d aborted that accident—a child unwanted, even somewhat shameful to her. Within two years, she’d divorced Jiang Bin. By then, Ming You and Yan Ningxi had both left Huai’an.
After Ming You went public with her same-sex relationship, she’d quit her job and wallowed for a while before joining Tianmu Middle School.
Part of it was fear that Ming You’s orientation reveal would spark gossip among colleagues about their past, disrupting her work.
Another reason was that she realized with horror she still couldn’t wish Ming You and Yan Ningxi happiness without any reservations.
—”You want to know what it feels like to date a girl? Fine, I can tell you. That feeling is the frustration of our marriage as two women not being legally recognized, our relationship unsupported by friends and family; it’s the fear of ruining her future so intense it leaves me unable to eat or sleep peacefully, and even more, the dread of dragging her into irreversible doom… Teacher He, my pain, your pain—they’re just a drop in the ocean among the countless sufferings out there. No one’s pain is greater than anyone else’s.”
—”But Yan Yan, are you sure she’s genuine with you? What if—what I’m saying is what if—what if she’s only getting close to you to use you to get revenge on me?”
—”A beautiful dream. Real or fake, I still came out ahead.”
—”You’re playing with fire.”
—”But the one who handed me this fire wasn’t anyone else. It was you, Teacher He.”
It was she who had asked Yan Ningxi to take care of the drunken Ming You.
That gave them their first connection.
That made them fall in love.
It was she who had pushed Ming You into Yan Ningxi’s life.
One was a student she’d once loved, the other a close friend she’d trusted deeply. The happier they were, the more heartbroken and regretful she felt.
Losing Ming You, losing the happiness that should have been hers.
This pain cut far deeper than the agony of her forced marriage and divorce—it hurt so much that she… couldn’t get past it.
Fleeing Huai’an No. 3 Middle School, fleeing all those places filled with memories of her and Ming You once being in sync, on the same wavelength—that was her best choice, her only choice.
She’d thought she was almost healed, but the wound in her heart had torn open again.
“And what about you, Teacher Lin?”
He Huan met Lin Huayan’s eyes directly. “Have you gotten over your eight years, nine years—or is it ten?”
