The year’s end carried an atmosphere of holiday relaxation, and with the weather cold, the tea shop’s business was especially good. When school let out, the small shop would fill up completely; the projector screen played movies on rotation every day, and some people even came specifically to the tea shop to check in and request movies.

Plenty of teachers came by the shop too — after all, even teachers who taught and nurtured others were ordinary people, who also needed to eat, drink, and enjoy themselves. Over time, Lin Shuang had come to know quite a few of the younger teachers.

But Zhou Zheng still never showed up at the tea shop.

Lin Shuang transferred the money to Zhou Zheng over WeChat; he never responded with so much as a word, and never accepted the transfer. Twenty-four hours later, the money bounced back to Lin Shuang’s phone.

She took the receipt from her Christmas shopping trip to the mall and got Zhou Zheng’s bank card number.

The money went straight into Zhou Zheng’s bank account.

When he got the bank text notification, Zhou Zheng read it over and over, opened WeChat, but for a long time didn’t take any further action.

A student below the podium waved and called out: “Teacher, Teacher Zhou.”

“Coming.” He stepped down from the podium. “Which question?”

The teacher on evening-study duty was responsible for keeping order and answering questions — a rare chance to slack off.

“Teacher, you’re staring at your phone in a daze — is it a message from your girlfriend?” a male student teased, winking.

“Nonsense, Teacher Zhou doesn’t have a girlfriend — maybe it’s a boyfriend instead,” the female student at the next desk said, looking mysteriously wise.

The liberal-arts repeat class was full of students who’d weathered plenty of storms already; the class atmosphere was harmonious yet lively, all of them sharp, precocious little adults.

Zhou Zheng tapped the workbook with his knuckles, frowning, putting on a stern, businesslike expression. “Which question don’t you understand?”

“This one — please enlighten us, Bro Zheng.”

He lowered his voice, picked up the pen on the desk, and explained the approach and steps to the students.

When the bell rang for the fifteen-minute evening study break, Zhou Zheng stood in the hallway for a moment, then suddenly turned and hurried downstairs toward the school gate.

In truth, there was so much he’d never managed to say — things he wanted to tell that person.

Things like: he was willing to accept all of it. Things like: they’d once shared a small, unremarkable connection.

The walk took only a few minutes, but Zhou Zheng’s pace was hurried, and he’d worked up a faint sweat by the time he arrived. Old Zhang, the gatekeeper, sat in his booth drinking tea, and greeted him when he saw him.

The school’s main gate stayed shut, opening only at dismissal time; everyone else had to pass through the small side gate by the guard booth.

“Teacher Zhou, heading out?”

“Yeah, going out.”

Seeing his hurried expression, Old Zhang said, “Got your gate pass? Never mind, I’ll open it for you.”

Zhou Zheng’s thoughts snapped off as the small gate clicked open, his footsteps faltering.

What would come of saying it, anyway? Who would even care?

The tea shop hadn’t closed yet; standing at the school gate, he could see the shop’s bright sign and soft lighting.

Usually at this hour Nana and Kevin had already clocked out, leaving only Lin Shuang alone in the shop, doing the closing tasks.

Zhou Zheng stood still, silently gazing at the little shop.

The deep-winter wind was bitterly cold, howling as it swept through the near-empty street, rattling through the treetops with a rustling clatter; even the sky above had frozen into a hard, deep purple.

In the dim night, Zhou Zheng saw a single point of light burning like a spark.

Someone stood beneath the black shadow of a tree, her long hair fluttering in the wind like a butterfly, her slender silhouette wrapped in a gentle, alluring mist.

That point of light was like the start of a fuse in the dark, its sparking flame quickly and fiercely racing through his entire body.

The wind changed direction; she turned slightly to one side, and in the instant she bowed her head to smoke, all the tenderness in the world seemed to fall away — as though sensing his gaze, she turned her head to look over, and at last seemed to smile faintly toward him.

His mind suddenly exploded, numb and wooden all at once, his heart pounding wildly, as though a great tide had surged into his body, just like all those years ago.

Zhou Zheng turned back, head down, and walked toward the teaching building.

Old Zhang muttered to himself, wondering what had gotten into Teacher Zhou, pacing back and forth like that.

His phone rang.

Lin Shuang asked him, “Did you get the money?”

“I got it.”

“Good, then.”

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m not short on…” Lin Shuang’s words trailed off, unclear whether she meant she wasn’t short on money, or wasn’t short on men willing to buy her gifts.

The call paused for a moment; on the other end there seemed to be a hint of a faint smile. “Nothing else to say… Teacher Zhou’s cooking really isn’t bad. Thank you.”

Zhou Zheng felt a pang of sorrow, and told her earnestly: “I really… wanted to pay for all the gifts I gave you myself.”

“Save that chance for a more deserving girl.”

Her tone was very gentle, almost comforting: “Zhou Zheng, I have a lot of bad habits — I’m really not right for you… find a girl like Teacher Lan. You two would be happy together.”

The call ended.

The last day of this year fell on a workday; the weather was still cold, and the whole city had a lazy air about it, streets lined with red lanterns and ornamental flowers, the city government even preparing a New Year’s Eve fireworks show over the scenic river.

Beiquan High School held a New Year’s Day teacher-student gala, set to begin at two in the afternoon on the 31st.

With three grade levels’ worth of students, the auditorium couldn’t hold everyone, so the stage was set up on the school’s large sports field instead, with students bringing their own stools to sit on.

The loudspeakers blared loudly enough that the whole street outside could hear the school’s music; even nearby residents gathered around, standing outside the fence to watch the performances on the field.

The tea shop was extremely, extremely busy — even though the sun was out, it was still outdoor weather, so hot drink orders were especially heavy. Everyone in the shop was rushed off their feet; Nana and Kevin made trip after trip delivering drinks over there.

Nana’s arms grew sore from carrying tea; Lin Shuang took over for her and delivered the drinks to the school herself.

The emcees were Zhang Fan, paired with Xie Xiaomeng — one in a sharp suit, the other in a flowing long dress, standing on stage, a striking match.

No wonder the two of them had been coming to the tea shop together so often lately.

The field was packed densely with students, every one of them in high spirits, blowing on their little horns — since it was a teacher-student joint event, the program was rich and varied: recitations, poetry, dance, instrumental music, sketches, choral singing, all of good quality.

Lin Shuang stood at a corner of the field, watching with some interest for a while, then turned to leave just as a new act came onto the stage.

It was a teacher-student collaborative sketch, done in the form of a musical, switching back and forth in time between childhood and adulthood.

Children bent over their books all had dreams; as the screen streamed with countless exam papers, various professions quietly took the stage.

Many teachers made cameo appearances, dressed as different professionals — some as scientists, astronauts, businesspeople, corporate white-collar workers, dancers, musicians, police officers…

She spotted Zhou Zheng at a glance, draped in a white coat, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, a stethoscope hanging around his neck, glancing down at his wristwatch, his sleeves rustling as he hurried toward the ward.

Objectively speaking, film and TV portrayals could really mislead people — the doctors on screen always had fresh, youthful faces and superb skill, sharp yet composed eyes, the white coat looking more like a fashion statement, while a real doctor might well look like a haggard, sleep-deprived uncle from next door.

But Zhou Zheng, standing there as this backdrop character… in that instant, she’d already found herself drawn in.

* * *

That night was New Year’s Eve; once the tea shop finished up, Lin Shuang handed out red envelopes to Nana and Kevin, and the three of them went out for hotpot together to reward everyone for the day’s hard work.

At a nearby large table, Zhang Fan’s hearty laughter carried over — a group of young teachers from the school had also gathered for a meal.

Lin Shuang drew attention wherever she went, and Zhang Fan spotted her immediately.

“What a coincidence, boss — you all came for hotpot too.” Zhang Fan came over to say hello.

“Teacher Zhang.” Lin Shuang offered her congratulations. “I saw it — today’s event was a great success, and the two emcees made quite the pair.”

“Really?” He gave an embarrassed laugh, scratching his head. “Today felt pretty good.”

“Where’s Teacher Xie?”

“Their group’s still in a grade-level meeting. She’ll come right over once it’s done.”

After a while, several teachers came in, including Xie Xiaomeng and Zhou Zheng.

Lin Shuang and Zhou Zheng crossed paths at the condiment station.

He’d taken off the refined-looking gold-rimmed glasses and the clean white coat, transforming back into the math teacher — clear brows, a steady presence, an understated glow about him.

The two of them showed no particular expression, and neither spoke; around them was a hum of laughter and chatter, the shop filled with the aroma of food. They stood on either side of the counter, silently mixing their own dipping sauces.

They drifted closer and closer until they both ended up standing side by side in the middle of the condiment station.

“Want some?” he asked her quietly.

“Give me a bit.” She held her dish out to him.

He turned slightly; the two of them shared a brief moment of contact before parting again.

After dinner, Lin Shuang went to the restroom to wash off the hotpot smell; when she came back out, she’d transformed once more into a vision of worldly splendor.

Zhang Fan’s group was just leaving the restaurant too, and spotted the three of them waiting for a taxi by the roadside. “Boss, where are you headed?”

A “friend” she’d met a few times had invited her out for New Year’s — this one was the owner of a music bar, hosting a countdown event on the dance floor that night, with a rooftop terrace where they could watch the city government’s fireworks show.

“Want to come along?”

Zhang Fan loved a lively crowd and eagerly accepted, then turned to ask his companions; most of the young teachers nodded along. Xie Xiaomeng, for once, agreed too; when it came to Zhou Zheng, he hesitated for a moment, his gaze drifting toward Lin Shuang.

“If Teacher Zhou’s free, come along too.”

Lin Shuang gave the address, and the group of young teachers headed off to the bar, laughing and chatting.

The bar’s lighting was hazy and dreamlike, packed with people everywhere; though crowded, it was full of young people, and the atmosphere was excellent.

Plenty of people tried to strike up conversation with Lin Shuang; she moved through the crowd with easy grace, at once like an innocent, naive prey and a hunter perfectly at ease, closing in for the kill.

By midnight, the countdown began; the bar started up its drumbeat countdown, and the crowd surged onto the rooftop terrace.

Lin Shuang stood shoulder to shoulder with others at the edge of the terrace, her arm resting on the railing, her figure graceful, chatting and laughing with the people around her.

Her face was radiant and lovely, her eyes shimmering as she looked up at the sky, eager and expectant.

“Five.”

Someone had their phone ready.

“Four.”

Someone laced their fingers together with another’s.

“Three.”

Someone embraced the person beside them.

“Two.”

Someone leaned their head against another’s.

“One.”

Someone kissed the person they loved.

“Happy New Year.”

Magnificent, dazzling fireworks arrived right on cue, rising into the sky and blooming into a thousand points of light, scattering down in a shower of stars.

At that moment, she happened to turn back, her smile as brilliant as the fireworks themselves.