He Huan couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to a movie theater, but she knew Du Heming wanted to go.
Because she’d seen the photos they’d posted on Moments—Du Heming and Lou Yixuan together.
It wasn’t that she disliked movies or lacked the time; she simply had no one she wanted to watch them with. But now, she did.
She wanted to go with Du Heming.
Not just to cheer her up, but because she genuinely wanted to.
The moment Du Heming’s left hand was clasped, her heart fluttered too.
Though He Huan had only held it for a few seconds, that intimate gesture combined with the movie invitation was enough to send her emotions soaring.
“Let’s do it. When?”
“Saturday,” He Huan said. “I’ll head home Friday night, come back to school after lunch on Saturday to pick you up, we’ll catch a movie in the afternoon, and eat out for dinner. You buy the movie tickets, and I’ll treat you to dinner.”
Du Heming was delighted with this “date” plan and blurted out a teasing remark: “You wanna split the bill with me?”
“No. It’s just… I haven’t been to a movie theater in ages.”
“I’m not seriously arguing over it.” Du Heming rubbed He Huan’s hand with the back of her own. “So, what kind of movies do you like? There are plenty out for the May holiday slate.”
“I haven’t paid much attention.”
“Then leave it to me? I’ll handle it?” Her nature was carefree—she said what she meant and avoided unnecessary overthinking.
“Sure.”
With this weekend anticipation, even Lou Yixuan and Lin Huayan exchanging glances looked more pleasant to Du Heming.
These past few days, she’d deliberately kept her distance from He Huan, not wanting to pressure her too much.
She also needed some time alone to process.
That massive bombshell of information—she needed time to digest it properly.
After a night of clarity, she’d realized that He Huan’s real-world problems couldn’t be solved just by her wishful words or unilateral decisions.
Ten years ago, to spare her terminally ill mother any regrets, He Huan had sealed away her true heart and chosen a marriage of convenience with someone who wanted the same.
But fate had other plans. Her mother had seen the wedding, seen her daughter’s future secured, only to pass away joyfully after three short months—leaving this world forever, and abandoning the daughter she’d cherished so deeply, who from then on never smiled again.
They said fate loved its jokes. Ten years later, He Huan faced the same dilemma: family ties versus love, impossible to have both.
Her father’s condition couldn’t withstand severe shocks.
So He Huan’s greatest act of defiance had always been refusing blind dates and marriage.
If her conservative father learned that his daughter had realized she was a lesbian—liking girls—before her previous marriage, the blow would be unimaginable, with consequences too dire to fathom.
This wasn’t gambling on their future; it was gambling with her father’s life.
So Du Heming had wavered too.
If He Huan couldn’t decide, if staying single would make He Huan’s life easier and more acceptable to her father, then she’d stop pestering her. No more talk of feelings or love.
Just accept it was fate’s cruel twist—retreat to colleagues, friends. Greet each other when they met, offer occasional care.
But if He Huan was willing to hold her hand, to trust her, to try harder together…
Then whatever came next—good or bad, together or apart—she’d accept it.
Since He Huan had taken the initiative today, showing her goodwill, it proved He Huan had already decided on their next step. Why should she keep up the pretense, making herself and everyone around her uncomfortable?
What she wanted was He Huan’s clear stance, and now she had it. She was thrilled—why play the tsundere role she couldn’t even pull off?
They got their meals and sat down. In high spirits, Du Heming asked Lou Yixuan, “Lou Lou, are you still going around for plein air sketching? Where do you keep all those paintings?”
She hadn’t seen any works from those locations when she’d visited the apartment last time.
Admittedly, part of her fascination with Lou Yixuan stemmed from curiosity, that “mystique of the artist.”
Everything about Lou Yixuan felt novel and exotic compared to her own routine teaching job.
“Yeah. My works are represented by Bona Art Museum. I shipped the ‘Color Traces’ series to Australia for Kinla—that’s my artistic dream and my lifeline.” Lou Yixuan glanced at Lin Huayan beside her. “No worries about house or car, but I still gotta save for retirement.”
While I’m young, build up some wealth. Once Lin Huayan retires, I can pause work, live worry-free in our little world.
Travel the world or hole up in some scenic spot—anywhere’s fine, as long as it’s with Lin Huayan.
“You’re thinking long-term,” Du Heming said enviously.
“Exactly. A person without long-term plans will face immediate troubles, right, Teacher Lin?”
“Mm, right.”
With Lin Huayan’s agreement, Lou Yixuan continued, “The weekend class I’m teaching ends by the end of this month—that’s this weekend. In June, I’ll only handle Class 9’s color theory lessons; otherwise, more time for sketching. Finals are coming—you’ll all be swamped. July, you get vacation; I’ll take one too. Then August brings a new weekend class batch. This job’s nature and schedule make weekend classes perfect for me.”
“Lou Lou,” Du Heming interjected meaningfully, “are you sure you’re only suited for weekend classes?”
“Hm?” Lou Yixuan paused. “You mean Class 9? Personally, I’d love to keep teaching them. But you know, the art experimental class carries big hopes from Tianmu and Haifan Groups. As a newbie teacher, my credentials might not qualify me to lead them through intensive training.”
She was right. It involved an entire class—fifty students’ exam plans and futures. Leadership weighed teachers’ cultural and artistic qualifications comprehensively.
Responsible to the students, and to the parents who trusted the school.
Lou Yixuan’s talent was undeniable, but teaching valued experience. Mastering something didn’t mean you could teach it well.
Good at knowledge didn’t equal good educator. Not everyone who learned could teach—hence the “curse of knowledge.”
“This semester has teacher performance evaluations. Student opinions will be considered.”
Whether Class 9’s art teacher changed next term? Lin Huayan personally didn’t mind much.
Lou Yixuan was hers now; they lived together daily. No more longing for once-a-week meets.
“How’s the evaluation work?”
Lou Yixuan, hearing this for the first time, turned to Lin Huayan. “Us three art teachers too?”
“You can think of it as students rating their subject teachers.”
Lin Huayan explained, “At Tianmu Middle School, if a teacher’s student evaluations average below sixty for two straight years, the contract ends. Leading a class is like commanding troops—keeping morale steady is key.”
“No wonder Tianmu Middle School grew so big, becoming Huai’an City’s top private high school.” Lou Yixuan gained respect for Tianmu Group’s bosses.
But what does that have to do with a contractor like me?
Lin Huayan smiled at her. “Teacher Lou, how many points do you think your ‘babies’ will give you?”
“…” Your ‘babies.’ All that talk, leading here.
Lin Huayan’s even jealous of the students.
I love how jealous she gets over me.
Across the table, Du Heming couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Lou Lou’s ‘babies’ adore her. Might set Tianmu Middle School’s highest average ever.”
Du Heming chuckled to herself, oblivious to the darkening eyes beside her, the sour taste in He Huan’s heart.
“…” Lou Yixuan caught He Huan’s gloom with a glare and changed the subject. “Enough about me. Speaking of, that top student from Teacher He’s class—Ji Mingxin, right? How’s she doing after skipping to sophomore year?”
Hearing her student’s name, He Huan looked up at Lou Yixuan. “Rough start—first monthly exam was grade eighth. But midterms, she hit second. Barring surprises, finals should make her first.”
She’d shared a semester with Ji Mingxin. Though no longer her student, she checked her progress monthly.
Ji Mingxin’s current homeroom teacher was the English teacher she’d co-taught with for a year.
Getting updates was easy.
Du Heming hadn’t eaten alone with He Huan much this semester—nearly forgot Ji Mingxin.
Hearing her feats, she marveled, “That kid’s a genius, born for books.”
“…”
Lou Yixuan sighed inwardly: Teacher Du, oh Teacher Du, get a clue.
After lunch, the four parted ways.
Lou Yixuan headed to the Art Office, He Huan to the dorms, Lin Huayan and Du Heming to the Teaching Building.
Once separated from Teacher He after a short shared path, Lou Yixuan whipped out her phone and fired off a message to Lin Huayan: [Teacher Lin! Should I warn Teacher Du that Teacher He’s jealous?”]
Key point: Teacher He’s jealous of me and Teacher Du—or maybe not jealousy, but feeling ignored by Teacher Du.
[Lin Huayan: Remind her.]
[Lou Yixuan: Replying so fast—you jealous too?”]
[Lin Huayan: Why wouldn’t I be?]
[Lou Yixuan: Me and Teacher Du? Pure friendship, clearer than water.]
[Lin Huayan: I know. Me and those three blind dates from over a decade ago? Clearer than water.]
Lou Yixuan’s mind exploded at that message—karma hitting back fast.
She sent a [cat rolling] GIF.
[Lou Yixuan: Utterly faithful to my girlfriend! Absolutely trust my girlfriend! Begging Ms. Lin Huayan to see the truth! [heart][heart]]
[Lin Huayan: Okay.]
Okay?
Another comprehension test. So tricky.
Lou Yixuan switched targets resentfully: [Teacher Du, our friendship’s so enviably pure it’s in peril—know that?”]
Du Heming and Lin Huayan split directions in the Teaching Building lobby.
She had evening self-study for Class 5 tonight—grading workbooks, a mini-quiz. Prep was heavy, so no dorm nap or basketball stretch.
[Du Heming: What do you mean?]
[Du Heming: Teacher Lin jealous, banning you from me? [sneaky laugh]]
[Lou Yixuan: Forget me and Teacher Lin. Teacher Du, wash your eyes first.]
Suddenly implied “blind,” Du Heming blinked—what’d she do to get “scolded”?
She quoted back: [Got this one! Lou Lou cursing me [big cry]]
[Lou Yixuan: Not cursing. But open your eyes to the person beside you! Teacher He’s clearly jealous, yet you’re oblivious, heartless—driving me nuts, super anxious!]
He Huan jealous?
When had He Huan ever gotten jealous for her?
Distracted, Du Heming tripped on a stair, nearly face-planting.
Heart pounding, she hurried the last steps to the office, sat, and replayed lunch details.
[Du Heming: Lou Lou, from your view, have I grown ‘cold’ toward Teacher He?]
An outsider’s perspective might clarify.
Lou Yixuan once called her and Lin Huayan’s situation complex, unclear. Now hers and He Huan’s? Just as tangled.
[Lou Yixuan: No clue what happened between you or what’s in your heads. Just saw Teacher He’s deep disappointment—while you chatted animatedly with me.]
[Du Heming: Oh, got it.]
[Du Heming: Thanks, Lou Lou.]
Although she had understood from the moment she first confessed that the hope of He Huan accepting her pursuit and being with her was exceedingly slim, she still clung to that one-in-ten-thousand chance, waiting for a ray of dawn to break.
But after hearing He Huan’s full story, after the cautionary tale of “Ming You” was laid bare before her, even that one-in-ten-thousand hope slipped from her grasp.
It wasn’t fear holding her back, nor did she want to stop chasing or waiting.
It was that she had zero confidence, zero chance of winning. Deep down, she didn’t believe she could measure up to Ming You. Deep down, she didn’t believe He Huan would defy societal prejudices for her sake, risking everything to battle her family.
To put it bluntly, these past days she had fallen into a defeatist “whatever” attitude.
Whatever He Huan wanted, she went along with it.
He Huan pulled back, and so did she; He Huan advanced, and she followed.
She had irresponsibly tossed the “stop or go” decision that He Huan had placed in her hands right back to her.
It was as if she were telling He Huan: Do whatever. I’m fine either way.
How could she just “whatever” about this?
This was the pure, fervent love she harbored—the person she adored with all her heart, the one she wanted to hold hands with for life.
Yet she had nearly forgotten that He Huan’s guarded heart had been pried open bit by bit by her sincerity and passion. He Huan’s courage and feelings had been drawn out step by step by her persistence.
Thinking it over carefully, every step she had taken had been met with a response from He Huan.
When He Huan warmed up, she had cooled off.
A heart gone cold, a person gone cold—what could possibly drive He Huan forward? How could someone whose heart could cool so easily deserve He Huan’s effort to press on?
This wasn’t even about whether she could outshine Ming You anymore. It was about whether she was worthy.
Her butt had barely warmed the seat before Du Heming shot out of the office like a rocket, racing toward the Dormitory Building at breakneck speed.
The elevator shot straight up to the 12th floor.
Du Heming caught her breath, raised her hand, and knocked on He Huan’s door.
