The next day at noon, Zhou Zheng did in fact show up carrying a brand-new three-tier insulated lunch box, the corner printed with the words “Beiquan High School.” Inside were three dishes and a soup, a mix of meat and vegetables, decently presented.

Beiquan High School’s student cafeteria had, back in the day, been extraordinarily bad, but the third-floor teachers’ cafeteria was said to be cooked to order by a dedicated chef and had a good reputation. Back when Lin Shuang was a student, there’d been a chubby homeroom teacher who liked to take top students in his class to “get special treatment” at the teachers’ cafeteria — the invited students considered it an honor and would secretly show off about it in class afterward.

Some of the dishes Zhou Zheng brought over were clearly from a big communal pot, unappetizing at a glance, but there were also a couple of genuinely tasty standout dishes, and the accompanying soup had a decent amount of ingredients in it. Lin Shuang wasn’t picky about food and found the meal fairly satisfying.

That afternoon, when he had a free period, Zhou Zheng came by to pick up the lunch box and asked her, “Was it okay to eat?”

She was leaning lazily against the counter, scrolling on her phone. “Aside from the tomato scrambled eggs being a bit too salty, everything else was pretty good.”

Zhou Zheng agreed. “The head chef tends to go light on oil but heavy on salt, but a few of his signature dishes are quite good — some teachers who don’t have time to cook at noon often pack a few dishes to take home too.”

Lin Shuang handed him an extra-large lemon black tea. “Thanks for the trouble, Teacher Zhou.”

He accepted it without hesitation. “It’s mutually beneficial, no need to thank me.”

This month, the tea shop finally hired another clerk. On Nana’s strong recommendation, Lin Shuang took on a young man in his early twenties who spent his days holed up at home playing video games, until his parents finally kicked him out to go find a job and fend for himself.

The young man called himself Kevin. He had a cold, world-weary face — in a small city like Beiquan, it was rare to run into someone this fashionably westernized who went by an English name. Nana and Lin Shuang, at one point, assumed he must have previously worked at a hair salon and gotten fired for scowling at customers all the time.

Lin Shuang trained him to smile at customers; Kevin bared his teeth in an icy grimace that sent chills down everyone in the shop.

“Never mind, you can just handle the toppings in the back.” Lin Shuang patted his shoulder. “When customers come in, you’re not allowed to smile at them, and you’re not allowed to talk either.”

With three people now working the shop, Nana’s workload dropped sharply, and Lin Shuang finally had some breathing room too.

She called to apply for a prison visitation pass and went to the neighborhood committee to get a certificate. Before leaving, she ran into Zhou Zheng and casually greeted him: “Teacher Zhou, I’m heading out of town for a few days.”

“Going traveling?”

Lin Shuang lowered her head. “Going to see my father.”

Zhou Zheng was silent for a while. “Travel safe, be careful.”

After a pause, he asked again, “Do you like listening to music?”

“It’s alright.” Lin Shuang looked puzzled. “Why do you ask?”

He said earnestly, “Listen to something upbeat — if you’re in a good mood, the time on the road will pass faster. I can recommend a playlist if you’d like.”

Lin Shuang blinked, then rolled her eyes at him mockingly. “Teacher Zhou, that’s such a lame way to pass time. Isn’t playing games better?”

The prison was located in another city in the province, in a remote location. Lin Shuang first went to the Wancheng train station, took a nearly three-hour train ride, then had to transfer to another vehicle after getting off. Visitation times were fixed once a month, and it had been half a year since her last visit.

She stayed a night at a local hotel, then set out early the next morning to catch a cab. She arrived at the prison very early, before visiting hours had even started, and stood outside with a group of other family members, everyone silently staring at the still-closed gate.

At ten o’clock, the guard finally came out, calling Lin Shuang’s name. She followed him inside, into the visitation room, and saw Lin Hai.

Lin Hai’s hair had gone drastically gray these past few years; the potbelly he’d once carried from years of extravagant eating and drinking had flattened out, his body noticeably thinner — though somehow, also a bit more solid than before.

Seeing Lin Shuang through the glass, his eyes flickered.

Lin Shuang’s tone was almost easygoing: “Dad, long time no see.”

She came a few times a year, just to see how he was doing. “How’ve you been lately?”

“Doing fine.”

“I put some money on your account — buy whatever you need.”

The prison’s monthly expenses only came to a few hundred yuan; with limited daily necessities available for purchase, no amount of money could really be spent in full anyway.

“I couldn’t spend it all even if I tried, you don’t need to put in so much.” Lin Hai’s gaze grew a little more animated. “How have you been lately?”

“I was too busy for a while, didn’t have time to visit — only recently freed up.” She gave a rough summary of her recent life, mentioning the tea shop and so on, then talked about the people around her too. “Everyone at home is doing well — Mom, your sister, they’re all fine. I went to your sister’s place a few days ago too, she said she wants to write you a letter.”

Lin Hai listened carefully, nodding repeatedly. “That’s good to hear.”

Toward the end, Lin Shuang said lightly, “Things outside haven’t changed much, same as usual. Not much time left now — you’ll get to see it yourself once you’re out.”

Lin Hai’s lips moved. “How are your Aunt Jiang and Yunyun? Have you seen them lately?”

Aunt Jiang was Lin Shuang’s stepmother, and Yunyun was her half-sister from a different mother. After Lin Hai’s incident, the mother and daughter had left Beiquan and moved elsewhere to live.

“Haven’t seen them. They should be doing fine too.”

Lin Hai sighed with feeling. “Yunyun must be pretty grown up now — eight years old this year, isn’t she?”

Lin Shuang gave a short “Mm.”

“It’s such a long trip — you don’t have to keep coming. Just write me a letter now and then.”

“Mid-Autumn Festival’s coming up soon, and National Day right after — I figured I should still come see you.” Lin Shuang asked, “Will there be mooncakes for Mid-Autumn?”

“There will be.”

“Good.”

Visitation time was only half an hour. Lin Shuang let out a breath of relief, said her goodbyes, and left directly for the train station to head to Wancheng. Before returning to Beiquan, she stopped by to visit the shop owner she knew there and arranged a meal.

She caught a rideshare back to Beiquan; the car that came for her was a big Jeep. The driver, noticing Lin Shuang didn’t look well, tossed her an orange: “Are you carsick? Something sour usually helps.”

The pale-green orange rolled against the hem of Lin Shuang’s dress. She snapped out of it and looked at the driver’s profile — his features weren’t especially striking, but his nose was well-defined, giving him a rugged, spirited air, a walking dose of testosterone, thoroughly masculine.

Lin Shuang smiled. “Thanks.”

The two of them fell into conversation. The driver turned out to be a retired non-commissioned officer, transferred out of the military to work at Beiquan’s armed forces department; he’d been on a business trip in Wancheng and picked up a passenger to head back, which was how he’d run into Lin Shuang.

Before she got out of the car, the Jeep owner spoke plainly: “This must be fate, in a way. I’d like to ask for Miss Lin’s contact information — would you do me the honor?”

She gave him her WeChat without hesitation.

Lin Shuang rested at home for a day, then went to the salon and got a new blunt, straight-cut hairstyle. The next day, back at work at the tea shop, before the people around had even fully processed her new look, a big Jeep pulled up outside the tea shop, and out stepped a tough-looking man in a fitted top and camo pants, walking into the shop to find her.

The “BMW-driving devoted CEO” had suddenly vanished into thin air, and right on his heels came this rugged “camo-clad Jeep guy,” thoroughly startling the surrounding crowd.

Under everyone’s watchful eyes, Lin Shuang happily went out to dinner with the man. Over the meal, he told her about himself and extended an invitation: “I’m a straightforward kind of guy, I like to say things plainly. If that offends you, please don’t take it the wrong way… I spent a whole day thinking it over yesterday, and I’d like to ask Miss Lin to be my girlfriend. Would you be willing?”

Lin Shuang had never encountered this type before; her dimple showed as she smiled lightly. “I think… we could give it a try.”

The Jeep began appearing frequently outside the tea shop. One day, after Zhang Fan and Zhou Zheng finished playing ball and went to the campus store to buy water, they happened to pass by; Lin Shuang, arm looped through the man’s, greeted them with easy confidence: “Teacher Zhang, Teacher Zhou.”

“My boyfriend, Guo Yuan.”

She’d been gone for just a few days and switched out one boyfriend for another.

“Hello.”

The two groups exchanged a few pleasantries. Lin Shuang took a couple steps in her heels, then suddenly turned back and waved at Zhou Zheng and the others: “Talk later, if you’re free.”

Once she was out of earshot, Zhang Fan clicked his tongue, gripping his water bottle. “This guy actually looks pretty decent, all upright and proper — more reliable than the business type from last time.”

Zhou Zheng didn’t say anything.

A few married male colleagues nearby joked around: “Changing men faster than the monthly exams roll around, huh.”

“With a face like that, what man could resist — she could reel one in with barely a lift of her finger, easy as picking things off the shelf.”

“An ordinary man wouldn’t even dare marry someone like that — what would he do once he got her home, how could he ever feel at ease?”

Zhou Zheng frowned, his tone unusually gentle for the moment: “She’s not that kind of person. It’s her own private business, none of anyone else’s concern — maybe cut back on the gossip a little.”

Zhang Fan slung an arm around his shoulder, watching his expression: “Zhou Zheng, are you sticking up for the boss here?”

Zhou Zheng pressed his lips together.

Mid-Autumn Festival gave two adjusted days off that year; the seniors weren’t taking supplementary classes, and the teachers’ union handed out holiday gifts. Zhou Zheng planned to head home for a visit; before leaving, he noticed a sign outside the tea shop advertising a Mid-Autumn reunion promotion.

Lin Shuang had been going on a lot of dates with Guo Yuan lately, and Zhou Zheng had recently been involved in a competition project, so it had been a good while since he’d last stopped by the tea shop. Seeing Lin Shuang, he asked, “Are you planning to stay open for Mid-Autumn?”

“Open for half the day, then the three of us will rotate shifts the rest of the time.” Lin Shuang asked him, “How are you planning to spend the holiday, Teacher Zhou? Don’t tell me you’re stuck on duty at school again?”

“Not on duty. I’m bringing my cousin home to celebrate.”

She’d met Zhou Feng a couple of times already — he’d come in with Zhou Zheng to buy milk tea, a fairly well-behaved kid with a bit of a clever streak.

“What about you?”

“Not sure yet. Might go sit with my aunt, or maybe there’ll be some other plan.”

Zhou Zheng nodded. “Happy holiday, then.” He offered his early well wishes. “Don’t forget to eat some mooncake.”

“You too.”

Lin Shuang’s new boyfriend, a military man by background, had a particular trait — a strong sense of camaraderie, plenty of brothers-in-arms, a love of lively gatherings. In other words, his ability to rally a crowd was more than a little overwhelming.

A whole group of guys from his unit arranged an outdoor farm-stay getaway, driving out to a resort at Lotus Peak to celebrate Mid-Autumn together.

Five or six cars bumped along the mountain road for over an hour before arriving at a lush, scenic mountain hollow. The resort consisted of a few rows of rustic wooden cabins, along with a fish pond and a small farm.

Lin Shuang got out of the car to a chorus of “sister-in-law” being called out — the man’s row of brothers all had booming voices and bright eyes fixed on her.

There were a few other women along too, but Lin Shuang stood out remarkably today — everything about her radiated “expensive,” from her outfit to her air, right down to the way she raised a finger.

The men went off to fish at the pond while the “sisters-in-law” and “wives” sat under sun umbrellas by the water, watching. Halfway through fishing, someone complained the pace was too slow, stripped off his shirt, and dove straight into the water to scoop up fish with a net.

The itinerary was packed. In the afternoon, the whole group hiked up the mountain; Lin Shuang, knowing herself well, had at least brought sneakers and jeans. By the time they came back down from the hike, dusk had settled in, the sunset glowing like fire, smoke curling gently from the resort’s chimneys. The men charged into the chicken coop chasing chickens and ducks. Dinner at the resort came with a scheduled performance; she assumed there’d be some other activity after the meal, but instead, Guo Yuan pulled her by the waist into the game room, where everyone split into two card tables and started playing poker.

That card game went on all night.

The resort really was well put together — plenty of boutique little attractions and scenic spots to catch the eye, perfect for urban relaxation — but by the time Lin Shuang left, she had only one feeling: sheer exhaustion, and it had been way too loud.

She could only think that this group of people… to put it kindly, were rough, hearty, straightforward guys. To put it less kindly, they were like wild boars who couldn’t appreciate fine grain.

Zhou Zheng brought back some wild mushrooms his grandmother had dried and mountain-dried goods, sharing some with his coworkers in the office and bringing the rest to his mentor Ding Yan’s house, where his mentor’s wife insisted he stay for dinner: “Hey, A-Zheng, how are things going with that girl from before?”

“Still… still fine.”

“How far along are you two?”

Zhou Zheng rubbed his nose. “Friends.”

“What kind of friends? Boyfriend-girlfriend friends?” His mentor’s wife lit up with delight. “Does that mean there’s still hope?”

“Just ordinary friends. She has a boyfriend.” Zhou Zheng corrected her, standing to take his leave. “I still have things to take care of, I should head off now.”

He left his mentor’s house and headed back toward school, passing by the tea shop, where the lights were still on and Lin Shuang was still inside.

He’d brought her a small box of homemade osmanthus mooncakes from home too.

Zhou Zheng pushed the door open. Lin Shuang was drowsy enough that her eyes were watering.

“Teacher Zhou.”

Zhou Zheng lifted the box in his hand. “Brought a few mooncakes from home for you all to try. They might not look very fancy — don’t mind that.”

“Oh?” Lin Shuang took the box and glanced inside — a small, round cake, plain and unassuming in appearance.

“What flavor is it?”

“Honey-preserved osmanthus. It’s a local specialty from my hometown — not very common outside our area.”

“Osmanthus flavor?” she muttered. “Is it good?”

“Pretty good.”

Lin Shuang casually broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth — the taste far exceeded her expectations. “This is really good.”

“Hm?” Her eyes lit up, and she raised an eyebrow. “What’s this soft, powdery texture in here?”

“That’s lotus root slices preserved in honey along with the osmanthus.” Zhou Zheng clasped his hands behind his back, pleased to see her expression light up. “It might get a bit rich if you eat too much of it — probably good paired with some tea.”

“Wait, let me check something.” She went behind the counter and poured out the last bit of brewed liquid from the green tea bucket, turning to smile at him. “There’s a little bit of tea dregs left — want a cup, Teacher Zhou?”

“Sure… alright.”

Lin Shuang set two small sample paper cups on the counter and laid out the mooncakes from the box, splitting one for each of them.

For some reason, though the two of them stood there eating together, neither said a word.

Zhou Zheng got up to leave. Lin Shuang saw him to the door, grabbing her cigarette pack, planning to smoke one to ward off her drowsiness.

Zhou Zheng’s gaze slid over. Lin Shuang pointed toward the brightly lit school across the way. “No one around — the students haven’t finished evening study yet.”

He didn’t much feel like playing disciplinary officer; hearing her say that, he smiled helplessly, but paused his steps anyway, staying to watch her smoke.

“You… when did you start learning to smoke?”

Lin Shuang held the cigarette between her lips, lighting it with her head down, her tone indifferent. “Back in college, I think. A senior I knew at school gave me one.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Women’s cigarettes — pretty sweet. More about the taste than the smoking sensation.”

Lin Shuang’s addiction wasn’t strong — normally a pack lasted her two or three days, but sometimes when she got busy, a single pack could last a whole week.

She looked up and saw the thoughtful expression on his face through the faint smoke, assuming he was about to lecture her earnestly, and spoke first: “No need to bother lecturing me, Teacher Zhou. I know smoking’s bad for my health.”

Zhou Zheng shook his head, his tone light. “I wasn’t going to lecture you. Some things, even knowing they’re harmful, people still choose them — because the happiness they bring far outweighs the harm.”

Lin Shuang smiled and pulled another cigarette out of the pack, offering it to him. “Want one, Teacher Zhou?”

He took it, fingers pinching the thin watermelon-flavored cigarette, and smiled — a smile that also carried something clear and a little bitter.