Qi Ling was a sophomore at Beiquan High School, but Lin Shuang had almost never seen him at the tea shop or around the school.

Because of Fu Min and Qi Xiong’s remarriage, the two of them were nominally “siblings,” but in all these years the two had never once spoken privately to each other — Lin Shuang couldn’t be bothered to make conversation, and Qi Ling was openly indifferent.

There was only one time when Fu Min had made dumplings and, with no time to deliver them into the city herself, asked Qi Ling, who was heading back to school, to drop them off at Lin Shuang’s shop. Qi Ling stepped into the shop, set the lunchbox down on the counter, and turned to leave without a word, leaving Lin Shuang puzzled.

It was only when Fu Min called that Lin Shuang learned the full story.

Lately, with the cold weather setting in, parents had been coming by often to bring clothes and bedding to boarding students. Qi Xiong had come by twice — once to bring Qi Ling warm clothes, once to bring chicken soup.

“Caught a cold?” Lin Shuang asked.

“Yes.” Having delivered the soup, Qi Xiong glanced over at Lin Shuang. “He’s been on medicine for a week and it’s still not better, so I brought him some chicken soup to help him recover.”

Lin Shuang nodded.

The two chatted for a bit, and Qi Xiong, mulling something over, asked Lin Shuang: “Shuangshuang, are you close with Teacher Zhou?”

“Teacher Zhou?”

“Yes, the one we ran into at that meal at the start of the semester — teaches senior-three math.”

Lin Shuang was puzzled. “What about him?”

“I saw the school’s bulletin board — Teacher Zhou was named a core teacher this year, and his class’s results are excellent.” Qi Xiong weighed his words. “He seems like a good person too — last time Qi Ling got his exam results back, I couldn’t reach his homeroom teacher, so I called Teacher Zhou, and he helped me look up the transcript. I was thinking… Qi Ling’s math isn’t great — if I asked Teacher Zhou to help tutor him, would that be possible?”

Lin Shuang zeroed right in on the key point: “Uncle, how do you have a way to reach Teacher Zhou? Do you two know each other?”

“Last time we met, after you left, Teacher Zhou gave me his contact info, said if I ever needed anything I could reach out to him.”

Lin Shuang frowned without meaning to.

Qi Xiong said, “If you’re close with Teacher Zhou, maybe you could put in a word — perhaps he’d be willing to help.”

The implication behind Qi Xiong’s words was clear enough — a tutoring session with a Beiquan High School teacher wouldn’t come cheap, and maybe the price could be negotiated too.

“I’m not close with him,” Lin Shuang said, lowering her eyes, her expression flat. “Their senior-three class is quite busy, and he’s a homeroom teacher on top of that — he wouldn’t have time to go tutor outside. Uncle, you should look for someone else.”

“Fair enough.” Qi Xiong could only nod, a little disappointed.

After seeing Qi Xiong off, Lin Shuang was noticeably listless, sitting in a chair scrolling on her phone.

“Boss, what’s wrong? What are you thinking about?” Kevin poked his head in and called out to her. “I’ve been calling you for ages.”

“Coming.” Lin Shuang pushed the chair back and stood up.

* * *

Senior-three’s midterm exams had arrived, and Zhou Zheng had two straight days of proctoring duty, followed by a full day buried in the teachers’ office grading math exams.

That day, the lunch he brought Lin Shuang came a bit later than usual, and it wasn’t until the shop quieted down that Lin Shuang finally sat down to eat.

During exam season the teachers were either extremely busy or extremely idle. That day, a teacher happened to come by for tea, and one of the more curious female teachers leaned over: “Boss, still eating at this hour?”

Lin Shuang, used to living alone, had poor eating habits — she’d eat while gaming, and this meal had taken her a full hour; there was still half a bowl of kelp and pork rib soup left in the thermos.

She had a preference for soup, and every meal, the school’s soup was always what satisfied her most.

“Yeah.” Lin Shuang turned her head. “Have you eaten already, Teacher?”

The female teacher glanced over. “Boss, that’s a nice spread — did your family bring it over?”

Lin Shuang smiled. “It’s soup from the teachers’ cafeteria.”

“The cafeteria doesn’t have soup like that,” the female teacher said with a laugh. “We all ate at the cafeteria today, it’s all vegetable soup — today it was tofu soup, basically like plain water, and the food’s terrible too, no oil in it at all, and the salt’s like it’s free, so salty it makes your throat hurt. A few of us came out just to get a drink to wash it down.”

Lin Shuang blinked slightly. “Really? I thought the teachers’ cafeteria food was decent.”

“Decent, my foot.” The female teacher laughed. “A few years back when the chef still cooked special dishes it was okay, but now the cafeteria’s ‘reformed’ too, doing this whole ‘no special treatment’ thing — teachers’ cafeteria and students’ cafeteria food all comes out of the same pot.” The female teacher went on griping. “And the same meal, the teachers’ cafeteria actually charges more than the student cafeteria. The school only gives us a hundred yuan meal subsidy a month — if we weren’t so busy, we wouldn’t want to eat at school either.”

“Is that so?” Lin Shuang’s smile slowly faded. “I had no idea.”

That afternoon Zhou Zheng came by the tea shop to pick up the lunchbox. Lin Shuang was standing outside the shop door smoking; when she saw him approaching, her gaze landed on him and stayed there, fixed and unmoving.

Zhou Zheng thought her expression looked a bit strange.

“Teacher Zhou.” She stubbed out the cigarette. “Come in.”

“You seem… not in a great mood?” Zhou Zheng looked at her carefully. “Did something happen?”

“Really? I’m fine.” Lin Shuang took out the washed lunchbox and pushed it toward him, smiling. “The sweet and sour ribs today were delicious, I ate them all. The soup was good too.”

Zhou Zheng nodded. “I thought it was decent too.”

“Doesn’t the cafeteria have dinner too?” She looked at him calmly. “Teacher Zhou, could you bring me a portion of dinner too? Just a small amount, I can’t eat much at night.”

“By the way, I’m not sure if the cafeteria still has sweet and sour ribs in the evening — if they do, that’d be great.”

“I’ll go check the cafeteria in the evening — it’s the same few dishes on rotation, so maybe.” He agreed readily. “I’ll bring it by tonight.”

That evening, Zhou Zheng did indeed bring a meal over.

There were sweet and sour ribs.

Lin Shuang took the lunchbox and asked him: “Could Teacher Zhou bring me one tomorrow at noon too?”

“Of course.”

The next day at 11:30, Zhou Zheng brought lunch again — still three dishes and a soup. Lin Shuang opened it and tried a few bites first; the dishes had noticeably different flavors from each other.

“Does Teacher Zhou have time? Would you sit with me a while?”

“Sure…”

The two sat down by the window. Lin Shuang’s posture was relaxed, her tone light. “Did you come straight from class, Teacher Zhou?”

Zhou Zheng had a class today during second and third period that ran until 11:00, and he’d come straight to deliver Lin Shuang’s food after class.

Lin Shuang nodded. “Teacher Zhou must be busy — the academic pressure in senior three is so heavy. How many classes do you teach a day? Don’t you have quite a few evening study sessions too? Being a homeroom teacher probably means handling a lot on top of that — meetings, lesson prep, and so on…”

Zhou Zheng was taken aback for a moment — she’d never asked him about any of this before.

“It’s manageable… three classes a day, four evening study sessions a week, plus class meetings and other things…”

She crossed her arms over her chest, listening carefully as he spoke. When Zhou Zheng finished, she replied in a light, flat tone: “Then Teacher Zhou really is quite busy — six days of classes a week, so much going on from morning to night every day. I have a question… how does Teacher Zhou find the time to buy groceries and cook, and then bring it all the way here to me?”

Her beautiful, bright eyes were fixed on him, sharp with intent.

Zhou Zheng froze abruptly.

He flinched as though scalded, his hand drawing back slightly.

Lin Shuang stared at him. “So what I’ve been eating — is it food Teacher Zhou cooked? Not lunchbox food from the cafeteria?”

Zhou Zheng’s tightly closed lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Teacher Zhou?” Her voice was very soft, but carried a cold, welling anger, like the thorn on a rose.

He looked at her startlingly bright eyes and spoke extremely slowly, his tone almost unbearably careful: “The rice and vegetables are from the cafeteria… you like soup, and the school’s soup is basically plain water, so I make the soup myself. If the cafeteria dishes aren’t good, I worry you won’t eat, so I add one extra dish…”

Lin Shuang’s fury turned into a laugh, sweet and sharp all at once. “No wonder I couldn’t tell the difference. So… the dishes I found unappetizing were all from the cafeteria? And the good ones you made yourself?”

Zhou Zheng nodded gently.

“Teacher Zhou really went to a lot of trouble.” Her tone was sarcastic.

His face flushed deep red.

Lin Shuang leaned back in her chair, looking at the man before her. “Zhou Zheng, what exactly are you trying to do? Being this good to me — is this the icing on the cake, or fuel in the snow?”

She asked him with a smile, “Being this thoughtful and attentive, doing all this without a word — what, are you planning to quietly stand by and be my backup option?”

Zhou Zheng pressed his pale lips tightly together.

“The first time we met, I already turned you down. Do you think doing all this will earn my gratitude?” She crossed her long legs and said flatly, “I don’t believe in that ‘sincerity moves mountains’ nonsense. Do you think I’m some naive teenage girl who can be won over by a little gesture like this?”

His jawline tensed, his throat working. “I never thought of it that way…” He drew a sudden deep breath. “I have no bad intentions, I just… I like you. I only thought — even being friends would be fine.”

Adults didn’t often use the word “like” — they were more accustomed to saying “love,” I love you.

Love was a heavier word than like.

Lin Shuang’s face was expressionless, her tone cold. “Stay away from me.”

He seemed to freeze solid, his eyes like dark, cold stones beneath a layer of ice.

After a long while, he finally spoke: “I’m sorry… I overstepped, and caused you trouble…”

Lin Shuang turned to look out the window. “I hate it most when people scheme behind my back, with designs on me.”

Her expression was indifferent. “Zhou Zheng, someone like me — you can’t afford to invest in. Find a proper girl to date, to build a life with — that’s the sensible path.”

“I’m sorry.”

He lowered his head, pushed back his chair, and stood in front of her for a moment as if wanting to say something more, then turned and walked away.

Soft music played in the shop.

His footsteps were light, and seemed slow, yet each step somehow sounded solid and sure.

Lin Shuang sank back into her phone game; five minutes later, her little character was crushed by a boulder falling from the sky.

Game Over.

When Zhang Fan found Zhou Zheng, he was alone at the basketball court, shooting hoops.

“Zhou Zheng.” Zhang Fan called out to him.

Zhou Zheng paid him no mind, sinking the ball through the hoop.

Zhang Fan ducked low and snatched the rebound under the basket, looking at him. “I went to the tea shop — the staff said you and Lin Shuang had an argument yesterday at noon? Lin Shuang hasn’t been at the shop these past two days. You… you okay?”

Zhou Zheng shook his head and turned to leave the court.

Zhang Fan chased after him. “You don’t have class this afternoon, right? Let’s go do something — how about billiards? Or you want to go sing karaoke? Get something to eat?”

Beyond the basketball court was the school’s large sports field. Beiquan High School’s field had been built into the side of a hill; one end of the track abutted a gentle slope, and on that slope boarding students would air out their bedding, the whole area fenced off with high wire netting.

Zhou Zheng picked a spot on the grass and sat down.

Zhang Fan squeezed in tightly beside him.

He pulled out two bottles of beer from his pocket like a magic trick. “Want one? I snuck them in.”

“No.”

Zhang Fan popped the tab and pushed the beer into Zhou Zheng’s hand. “It’s already open, just have a sip.”

The two of them sat on the slope, looking out over the field below.

Zhou Zheng held the cold can, eyes lowered, not speaking.

Zhang Fan drank his beer sip by sip, silently keeping him company.

After a long while, Zhou Zheng’s lips brushed the mouth of the can. “Back when I was in school, I used to sit here memorizing vocabulary.”

“The view’s pretty good from here,” Zhang Fan said. “You can see everything.”

Zhou Zheng nodded. “Basketball court on the left, the big field on the right, the street outside the school and the passersby — you can see all kinds of things. I used to sit here a lot, memorizing words while watching people play ball.”

“I was pretty poor back then. One time in P.E. class, practicing basketball, the coach suddenly pulled me off the court and told me, come back once you’ve got a pair of sneakers — but I couldn’t afford a new pair…” “After that I just sat here and watched them play, and never set foot on the court again.”

“There was a guy in my class who was the captain of the basketball team — whenever he played, the whole class would go watch, his girlfriend too. He and I were fairly close… I often helped him go over problems and correct his mistakes. Later he gave me a pair of basketball shoes, but I never once wore them… I always felt like those shoes, and the clothes on my body, and my whole self, weren’t part of the same world as everyone else.”

“It took a lot of effort for me to learn to talk to people, to socialize, like a normal person.” He forced his eyes to stay open, the rims faintly red. “But I still can never quite reach that world.”

Zhang Fan wrapped an arm tightly around his shoulders, in comfort.

* * *

This world was a strange place — the two of them lived barely a kilometer apart in a straight line. If they wanted to, they could see each other many times a day; if they didn’t, they might not cross paths for ten days or half a month.

Zhou Zheng never appeared at the tea shop again, vanishing completely.

A car had once again shown up in front of the tea shop — a TV station’s interview vehicle, the male lead this time a reporter from the local television station — but after a short while, he too disappeared from view.

Winter arrived in the blink of an eye, the cold wind biting. The tea shop’s business had picked up slightly compared to autumn. Zhang Fan still came by every few days to buy drinks for the female teachers.

He and Lin Shuang still chatted from time to time, though the two of them had a tacit understanding not to bring up Zhou Zheng. Zhang Fan felt there was no need to; Lin Shuang seemed utterly unbothered, as though she’d completely forgotten Teacher Zhou existed.

Seeing Lin Shuang like this, Zhang Fan couldn’t help but sigh on Zhou Zheng’s behalf as he turned to leave.

When a woman turns ruthless, honestly, it has nothing to do with the man at all.

In December, the endless winter rains began falling over Beiquan. Outside, the cold wind cut like a knife, but the tea shop was warm as spring. When there were no customers, Lin Shuang, Nana, and Kevin would sit together gaming, passing the long, boring hours.

Out of boredom, the smoking frequency had noticeably increased, and the cigarette pack had run empty. Taking advantage of a break in the rain, Lin Shuang went out to the nearby supermarket to buy a pack.

The supermarket that sold cigarettes was some distance from the school. By the time she came out with her cigarettes, the cold rain, which had briefly stopped, had started up again.

Lin Shuang wasn’t in a hurry to leave. She pulled her coat tight and stood beneath the storefront sign of the supermarket, smoking.

The chilly street was quiet, not even a car passing by. A man came around the corner, holding a folded blue-plaid umbrella, walking briskly toward the pharmacy next door.

Under the umbrella, he wore a black hooded sweatshirt, with a black windbreaker over it. He closed the umbrella under the eaves, revealing the young man’s face.

He actually had a pair of eyes and brows rare and good-looking among men — his eyebrows neither too thick nor too thin, his eyes not especially large, monolid, the eye shape slightly elongated, the outer corners tilting slightly downward, giving off a hint of “unhurried” and “clean.”

Once he’d closed his umbrella, he noticed the person standing under the eaves nearby, his gaze pausing briefly in surprise, and then he nodded toward Lin Shuang.

“No umbrella?” His voice was especially hoarse.

Lin Shuang looked down at her phone and gave a soft “Mm.”

More than a month had passed.

Zhou Zheng turned and went into the pharmacy; a few minutes later he came out carrying a plastic bag with mint throat lozenges, glanced at her, then glanced at the rain outside, and hesitated, lingering.

She looked up from her phone at him. “Buying medicine?”

Zhou Zheng nodded, unconsciously touching his own throat — he had chronic pharyngitis, and his throat couldn’t take it whenever the seasons changed, especially in autumn and winter.

“This rain won’t stop anytime soon. Use my umbrella.”

She had nothing pressing to do and wasn’t in a hurry for the rain to stop.

“No need.”

“Just take it.” He set the umbrella down on the ground. “I’m heading to school — it’s not far from here.”

The rain wasn’t heavy, but it wasn’t light either. Lin Shuang was wearing a wool coat and leather boots — delicate, precious things.

Zhou Zheng pulled up his hood, tucked the medicine into his pocket, and strode off into the rain, head down.

Lin Shuang turned and looked at the umbrella left on the ground, more than a meter away from her, standing alone on the pavement.

The umbrella was the most common color and style the supermarket sold, not particularly attractive, but sturdily made, the ribs thick, with slight rust marks at the folding joints — clearly it had been used for quite some time.

The umbrella sat in the umbrella stand in front of the tea shop for a week, unclaimed even once the sun came back out, until one day Lin Shuang suddenly noticed it again.

She opened WeChat and, after searching for a while, finally found his profile picture, and carefully typed out a message to him.

【The umbrella from a few days ago — how should I return it to you?】

About half an hour later, he finally replied.

【Sorry, I was in class just now.】

【If it’s convenient, could you leave it at the school’s security office? I’ll go pick it up when I have time. Thank you.】

Lin Shuang put her phone away.

She picked up the umbrella, carefully folded it back along its creases, and then took it to the security office.

On Christmas Eve, sending apples was in fashion at the school — every shop on the student street had gift-boxed Fuji apples on display, and the tea shop was no exception, hanging Christmas decorations in the windows and running a bundled promotion with the neighboring stores.

Lanting came by the tea shop and gave Lin Shuang two large apples, saying they were from students in her class.

She and Xie Xiaomeng had a dinner planned that evening; she’d come early to wait for Xie Xiaomeng to get off work. It happened that Zhang Fan and a few young teachers were also looking for a place to eat near the school, and they all ended up joining forces, organizing a hotpot dinner that night.

“Let’s call Zhou Zheng too — he doesn’t have evening study duty tonight, he’s free,” Zhang Fan said, tirelessly trying to matchmake Lanting and Zhou Zheng.

After one phone call, Zhou Zheng did indeed show up.

Through the glass window, Lin Shuang saw a lone, spare silhouette standing by the roadside, his back to the tea shop, standing at the edge of the street.

Lanting’s eyes lit up, her skirt hem flying as she pushed the door open and went out.

The two blurred silhouettes stood together, exchanging a few words, then Zhou Zheng separated himself from the group, crossed the street, and went back to school.

Xie Xiaomeng pulled Lanting away.

* * *

The next day was Christmas, and Lin Shuang had a date.

Her companion was a “second-generation official” — someone from a family with some background. They’d met at a restaurant, where he’d come over on his own initiative to ask for her contact information, and after some back and forth, they’d been in touch for a while now.

Western Christmas, once it arrived in China, had transformed itself into a version of Valentine’s Day. The official’s son took her out to a banquet; the road was jammed solid, a sea of red brake lights.

The man wore gold-rimmed glasses and worked at some idle department of the city government — well-mannered enough on the whole, except for one particularly bad habit: he was a road-rage type.

From pedestrians on foot to cars turning at intersections, he had something to criticize about every single one.

He wasted his days on eating, drinking, and having fun, yet wouldn’t yield an inch over the few short minutes it took to get somewhere by car.

The restaurant had once been a state-run establishment, decorated lavishly, and it was fully packed tonight. Lin Shuang, arm in arm with the man, went upstairs; at the other end of the private-room hallway, a young man was carrying over a birthday cake topped with a golden longevity peach.

The two of them crossed paths in the long private-room corridor; as they passed each other, Lin Shuang sensed the person beside her hold his breath and take a step back, putting some distance between himself and her.

She tilted her head up and spoke to the man beside her, smiling brightly, her voice soft.

Today was Vice Principal Ding’s birthday; his wife had specially booked the banquet here, and had invited Zhou Zheng along as well.

The private room held a group of the official’s son’s childhood friends, each with a female companion in tow; the table was full of clinking cups. The official’s son carried himself and dressed modestly, but his drinking capacity was anything but low-key.

After the table had descended into disarray, everyone drifted off with their partners. Both the official’s son and Lin Shuang had been drinking and couldn’t drive; the family driver was already waiting downstairs, ready to take the two of them somewhere else.

A hotel room had been booked for the night.

Even with the driver at the wheel, the drunk official’s son still scoffed at the traffic conditions the whole way. Lin Shuang watched the man gesturing and criticizing everything, puzzled — if he loved the transportation business so much, why didn’t he go work for the traffic police?

She called out to the driver to pull over by the roadside. The official’s son stumbled out of the car, unsteady, and grabbed her hand. “What’s gotten into you, throwing a fit like this out of nowhere?”

Lin Shuang shook off his hand, and the two of them argued outside the car door; Lin Shuang, her heels clicking sharply, walked back the way they’d come, ignoring the person behind her.

Behind them, the jammed traffic began honking its horns.

The official’s son pointed at the road, cursing and stamping his foot, then slunk shamefacedly back into the car.

Zhou Zheng had just finished seeing the school principal and his wife off, and was waiting at a nearby bus stop for the bus home.

She was carrying her bag, stopped at an intersection waiting for the light, her cheeks flushed like petals from the cold wind and the alcohol.

He was dressed lightly, collar turned up, hands tucked in his coat pockets. Having just witnessed the scene, he called to her from a few meters away: “Are you all right?”

Lin Shuang turned her head and looked at him quietly for a moment.

The city was ablaze with lights, countless passersby moving through it, yet for some reason she could never seem to find the light beneath the streetlamps.

He took a couple of steps forward and asked her, “Have you been drinking, Lin Shuang? Can I get you a taxi home?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and when the light turned green, walked forward a few steps, then turned back and snapped at him fiercely, “None of your business.”

Zhou Zheng watched her wobble unsteadily in her heels, her thin, sequined short dress flashing with each step, and after a moment’s hesitation, stepped down off the platform and quickly caught up with her.

The cold wind had sobered her up somewhat; she heard his footsteps behind her. “Zhou Zheng, do you really have to follow me?”

He stopped. “Where are you headed?”

“Just wandering around.” She turned, smiling and waving him over cheerfully. “Since you’ve got so much free time, why don’t you keep me company for a bit? Then walk me home?”

There was a shopping mall nearby, currently in the middle of its year-end shopping festival, with extended evening hours for customers.

She started browsing from the ground floor, in high spirits, buying without a moment’s hesitation. The sales associate, seeing her polished appearance from head to toe, turned to look at other styles, assuming from the outset that Lin Shuang had no intention of paying — except that a quiet, taciturn young man stood beside her, and the sales associate naturally handed the receipt to him: “Sir, the payment counter’s up ahead, ten meters to the left.”

Zhou Zheng took the receipt from the associate’s hand, and had just turned to leave when Lin Shuang reached out and, quite naturally, grabbed his hand. “Wait, let’s go look over there.”

Her hand was slightly cold, her fingers long and soft, her nails painted with a pretty Christmas design.

Zhou Zheng’s heart sank into a vast ocean; he was a small boat adrift, carried along by the waves.

Lin Shuang, holding onto Zhou Zheng’s hand, pulled him toward another counter.

The year-end sales were tempting; her eyes shone with an intoxicated light, utterly unable to resist any beautifully packaged item, her fingers pointing this way and that. “This one, and this one — I’ll take them all.”

Zhou Zheng ended up with a stack of payment receipts in hand.

“I love every single piece, Zhou Zheng — today is Christmas, and I’m in a bad mood. Would you buy me gifts?” Her tone was unusually soft, batting her thick lashes, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Zhou Zheng looked at her face and nodded silently.

Seeing him finish swiping his card, Lin Shuang’s eyes sparkled, and she pulled at Zhou Zheng. “Let’s go look upstairs.”

Upstairs was women’s clothing, shoes, and bags — not a single item there could match her beauty.

In the short hour before closing, the card being swiped was Zhou Zheng’s, and it cost him over thirty thousand yuan — roughly half a year’s salary.

He carried the shopping bags with both hands, full to bursting. Lin Shuang looked refreshed and pleased; Zhou Zheng said nothing.

Lin Shuang, beaming, even called Miao Cai to report her spoils. The mall had issued her a VIP card, and Lin Shuang made plans with Miao Cai to come back and shop again tomorrow.

After hanging up the phone, she asked him: “Does it hurt?”

Zhou Zheng answered honestly: “A little.”

“But I like it when a man spends money on me.” She stood very close, a scent of perfume and faint alcohol on her, smiling coquettishly. “A man who’s willing to spend money on a woman — that’s a man with sincerity.”

Zhou Zheng said nothing, just hitched the shopping bags up higher on his arm.

She suddenly laughed, and pressed even closer to him, close enough that their clothes were touching.

Zhou Zheng lowered his head and stepped back.

Lin Shuang extended a hand and pressed her palm to his chest, glancing at him, murmuring in a coquettish whisper: “Teacher Zhou, your heart’s beating so fast.”

She looked at him. “Zhou Zheng, you said you like me — what is it you like about me? My looks? My figure?”

Lin Shuang gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled him toward her, pressing her whole body against him, her voice playful and coy, like a beautiful, brightly patterned snake, whispering against his ear: “I never expected the proper, upstanding Teacher Zhou to be so shallow too, so infatuated with a pretty face.”

Her soft, fragrant body pressed against him, her curves lush and inviting. Zhou Zheng’s cheeks flushed red, his breathing quickened, his dark eyes almost brimming, whether with shame or something else, unclear.

“Zhou Zheng, how tall are you?”

He managed to force out: “177.”

“Same height as me in heels.” She laughed softly. “You know, if we kissed right now, you’d only need to wrap your arm around my waist — you wouldn’t even need to lower your head… and you could kiss me right on the lips.”

Zhou Zheng’s throat worked hard.

She studied his expression, leaned her face in close, her red lips hovering just above his cheek, drifting slowly, keeping a hair’s breadth of distance.

Zhou Zheng’s body shifted slightly.

“Don’t move.” She scolded him playfully, giggling. “Without my permission, you’re not allowed to touch me.”

She looked straight into his eyes, unabashed, almost provoking him, and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Zhou Zheng abruptly closed his eyes, his eyelids trembling.

His breathing turned ragged, teetering on the edge of losing control.

Lin Shuang’s breath was warm as orchid blossom: “Zhou Zheng, do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“The mall’s closing. Take me to see your place.”

“See what?” His voice was hoarse as he asked her.

She smiled, charming and at ease, her slender fingers stroking his chest, resting her head against his shoulder, her red lips slowly forming the words: “See if your kitchen — see if you’ve been poisoning my food.”

Christmas music played in the mall; Santa Claus rode his reindeer sleigh, bringing gifts.

Candy for the children.