That “Brain-Calming, Energy-Restoring Wellness Spa” thing—Zhou Zheng really did go. Lin Shuang brought him along like she was leading a little sidekick, strutting into the beauty salon with her chin held high.

She’d grown used to Zhou Zheng’s professional composure—the way he prepped lessons and graded exams with meticulous precision in front of her, surrounded by those impenetrable math textbooks and screens full of blue-green code, and she couldn’t help feeling like an unaccomplished amateur by comparison. This time—finally, a chance to knock him down a peg.

Once inside, Zhou Zheng was composed to the point of blankness, saying nothing, not even glancing at the fragrant tea offered to him. The consultant couldn’t get him to open up, and leaned toward Lin Shuang to whisper: “Miss Lin, your friend is awfully cold—hasn’t said a single word.”

Lin Shuang hadn’t heard someone described as “cold” in a long time.

After all, in a small city like Beiquan, most people were pretty down-to-earth—a brooding, aloof domineering-CEO type was a rare sight.

He really was that cold! Zhou Zheng sat like a stone statue, arms crossed, brow set in cool, carved lines, offering nothing but the occasional nod or shake of the head to the attendant fussing solicitously over him.

Lin Shuang glanced at him, a smile tugging at her lips, and said with a straight face: “Don’t bother him too much, please—he’s in a special profession, kind of sensitive about this sort of setting.”

“Oh, is he a police officer? No wonder, so mysterious…”

Lin Shuang held back a laugh.

The salon was a legitimate place, just excessively flattering—from the moment you stepped in and changed your shoes to the moment you left, the staff were exceptionally warm and attentive, pushing membership cards hard both overtly and subtly. Lin Shuang, used to being fawned over, was immune to this sort of routine; but Zhou Zheng, surrounded by strange scents and greetings from the moment he walked in, was fighting the urge to turn around and leave.

This spa treatment was unisex; Lin Shuang arranged something for herself too—basically a scalp and neck acupressure massage using a compress packed with herbal medicine. The two of them were put in the same room, and when the masseuse’s hands touched him, Zhou Zheng’s body tensed.

“Sir, please relax a little.”

“Sir, please relax a bit more…”

“Ah, ah, sir, please don’t move—let me get your temples…”

Lin Shuang turned to look at Zhou Zheng—he looked at her with an almost pitiful expression, his eyes full of helplessness, enduring it, like a big dog forced into a bath, pacing back and forth restlessly.

Tsk, this kid had grown up so unpretentiously, never experienced this sort of service before.

“Okay, okay,” Lin Shuang smoothed things over. “Just have the compress warm him up—no need for the massage.”

Once they were out of the salon, Zhou Zheng visibly relaxed.

“How was it? Nice?” Lin Shuang’s eyes sparkled. “I treated you to some pampering today too, huh.”

“I shouldn’t have come—better to have stayed home,” Zhou Zheng said, sighing up at the sky, muttering. “That was rough.”

“The salon staff didn’t seem to think it was rough, but you’re the one complaining—the consultant’s tea nearly scalded your lips and you didn’t so much as flinch.”

“At first I didn’t know if that was tea or some other bizarre thing… then, she was just so warm, I was scared that if I opened my mouth she’d force me to keep talking—I really couldn’t handle it,” Zhou Zheng shrugged.

Lin Shuang laughed so hard she doubled over.

Women naturally liked that perfect-man type—worldly, experienced, well-versed in food, drink, and entertainment, elegant and eloquent, unfazed even if the world was ending in front of them.

But she found Zhou Zheng more interesting these days—at least that thoroughly baffled expression he wore at the salon, she found rather endearing.

On past dates, Zhou Zheng used to spend time shopping with her, going with her to get manicures and hair done, but not anymore—she preferred to go out on her own now, leaving him at home to face his math papers or his laptop.

Everyone’s time should be spent on realizing their own value.

The two science classes Zhou Zheng taught this year—one advanced, one regular—weren’t too demanding, teaching-wise; a good chunk of his energy went into the math competition class.

Beiquan being a small city, its student pool and faculty resources couldn’t compare to the provincial capital, Wancheng. Beiquan High didn’t even have a dedicated competition program, though the school did have some promising students who could pursue the competition track—provincial first and second prizes carried weight for guaranteed admissions and college entrance exam bonus points. The math competition class was co-taught, rotating, by Zhou Zheng and a senior teacher—the veteran teacher covered problem-solving approaches, Zhou Zheng handled the actual problem-solving instruction.

When the monthly exam papers came back, Zhou Zheng held back Qi Ling’s math test and called him into the office during evening study.

The office door was closed; one grown man and one boy, both with heads down—one looking at the exam paper, the other at his own shoes—neither speaking.

A few minutes later, Zhou Zheng pulled out a paper and slid a pen across: “Half an hour—give this paper a try.”

Qi Ling stood there, refusing to move, head turned away, hands stuffed in his school uniform pockets.

“I’ll wait for you. We’ll leave once you’ve solved it,” Zhou Zheng said gently.

“I don’t need any special treatment from a teacher,” Qi Ling said, jaw set, brow furrowed in irritation. “I really don’t need it.”

“Is that so? You really resent this kind of special treatment?” Zhou Zheng smiled slightly, pulling his hand back to rest on the chair, adopting a casual, chatting posture. “You know why I’ve been looking out for you, right?”

Qi Ling of course knew—if it weren’t for Lin Shuang, he wouldn’t be standing in front of Zhou Zheng at all today.

He didn’t want anything to do with either Lin Shuang or Zhou Zheng, not even slightly.

“You think it’s because of that so-called sister of yours in name only?”

“Yes,” Qi Ling said, head stiff. “There’s no need for this.”

“Then do you know that she’s the one caught in the middle, in the most difficult position of anyone? The one furthest removed from all this?”

“Qi Ling, in this web of relationships we’re all part of, your father is the center point—he’s always cared about you and valued you highly. You can’t change that center point, so you can’t change the current situation either. Also, back in my own school days, I received special attention from teachers too, and over the past few years I’ve looked out for a few students in special circumstances myself. But I do genuinely feel that meaningless, uncooperative special treatment is a waste of time and emotional energy—like right now, for instance.”

“The trouble is, I’ve already looked out for you once—social relationships are more complicated than anything in a textbook, and once you’ve drawn the bow there’s no turning back. I can’t quit halfway through, and you can’t reject this entirely either. The simplest solution here is for you to change your attitude.”

Zhou Zheng took the paper back. “From now on, whatever daily math homework you turn in, I’ll grade it the same day. I’ll hold onto your workbook, and you can come by to pick it up from me the next day. If you don’t come get it, I’ll leave it on the podium during class the next day and use it as an example of common mistakes.”

Qi Ling’s expression darkened.

Zhou Zheng raised an eyebrow: “I’ve noticed you a few times in class—you’re probably not that interested in studying, but you’re not exactly resistant to it either. You do have a few friends you get along with well, though—didn’t you all go to the same cram school together over summer? One of them’s a girl, in the class next door, right? I’ve seen you two going to the cafeteria together every day.”

Before Qi Ling could react, Zhou Zheng patted his shoulder: “Come by every day to get your workbook—we can chat for five minutes, or you can just ask me a math question directly. Otherwise I’ll end up as your Chinese teacher or homeroom teacher, chatting with you about life, dreams, and the girl you have a crush on.”

Something of a… humanitarian threat, Teacher Zhou style.

Once home, Lin Shuang heard about all this and found it amusing.

“I thought you’d be the mother-hen type of teacher, good at playing on emotions, nagging on and on with heartfelt persuasion.”

Zhou Zheng shook his head. “Teachers these days have to move with the times too. Students like teachers with personality now—heartfelt persuasion doesn’t work anymore. The cool type works best, but you can’t overdo the cool either.”

He called Qi Xiong, asking about Qi Ling’s basic situation, and only hung up an hour later.

Lin Shuang ruffled the top of his hair.

Yeah, this teacher really was pretty cool.

This weekend, Zhou Zheng needed to go back to the countryside. Because of the move-in, his trips back to Hetang Village had been repeatedly postponed—he hadn’t been home in a month. As it happened, Zhou Feng also needed to go back this time, so Zhou Zheng took his cousin along.

Zhou Feng lived in the dorms at Beiquan High; Lin Shuang saw him rarely, though occasionally Zhou Zheng would buy him clothes and shoes, take him out to eat—the cousins seemed to get along well.

“Little Feng and I are going to the supermarket to grab a few things—he wants pizza and burgers, and there’s a pizza place right at Fountain Plaza, I’ll take him for lunch,” Zhou Zheng said, asking her, “Want to join us for a bit?”

“I’m going to go watch the shop later,” she thought about it. “No need for lunch, but I’ll come along to the supermarket with you—I need to grab some tissues.”

The two of them went to Fountain Plaza, where Zhou Feng was already waiting at the fast food place. Seeing Lin Shuang accompanying Zhou Zheng—this was actually the first proper meeting between Lin Shuang and Zhou Feng.

Zhou Feng didn’t say much, scratching his head, calling out: “Zheng-ge… sis… sister-in-law, hi.”

Lin Shuang raised an eyebrow slightly, smiling: “Hi, Little Feng.”

Actually, Zhou Feng didn’t fully understand this whole situation with his cousin. Around Chinese New Year, Zhou Zheng and Zhou Xue had gotten into a bit of a spat, apparently over the girlfriend matter. Later, once school started, he’d seen gossip about Lin Shuang and his cousin on the school forum—the milk tea shop owner was quite pretty, plenty of the guys in his class liked her—he thought his cousin was really impressive, forwarded it to Zhou Xue, and Zhou Xue had gotten thoroughly annoyed, giving Zhou Zheng the cold shoulder for a good while after.

Fortunately, within a few months the two of them had broken up again, and Zhou Xue’s temper had improved. But now, without any warning, his cousin was back together with the shop owner again?

“Just call her sis, that’s fine,” Zhou Zheng said, patting Zhou Feng’s shoulder, taking Lin Shuang’s hand. “Let’s go get some things first.”

The three of them pushed a shopping cart, with Lin Shuang tagging along with the two cousins as they wandered. Zhou Zheng went to the fresh produce section to buy vegetables—the village had no shortage of those—picking up some meat, shrimp, fruit, and the crackers and snacks and soft foods like eight-treasure porridge that Grandma liked.

Lin Shuang and Zhou Feng stood behind Zhou Zheng, the older and younger of them making small talk to fill the silence.

“Sophomore year this year, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right, sophomore.”

“Liberal arts or science track?” Lin Shuang asked with a smile.

“Science.” Zhou Feng was a little nervous, unconsciously rubbing the back of his head.

His and Zhou Zheng’s facial structure were somewhat alike, but he was more youthful and unpolished than Zhou Zheng, easily blushing when he talked, his gaze dodging Lin Shuang’s a bit, with a shy edge to him.

“Do you go home every weekend?”

“Not really… I go home about every two weeks. Sometimes my parents come into the city to see me, bring me a bit of food.”

“I see—your family really dotes on you, then.”

“I guess… it’s okay.”

Zhou Zheng finished weighing his purchase and glanced over to see his cousin standing ramrod straight, shoulders tense, expression thoroughly reserved, trailing close behind Lin Shuang. Then he looked at Lin Shuang, holding onto the cart handle, glancing this way and that, relaxed and at ease.

Seeing him come back, Zhou Feng visibly relaxed.

Once they left the supermarket with their purchases, Lin Shuang headed straight home; Zhou Zheng offered to walk her, but she shook her head and declined, waving to the two cousins: “Go get lunch, you two. Be careful on the way home.”

Zhou Zheng watched her walk away, then stopped by a coffee shop to pick up a small cake, carrying it off around the corner.

“Why didn’t Sister Shuang eat with us?” Zhou Feng asked.

Just a casual meal—no big deal either way.

“She’s not used to it,” Zhou Zheng said, head down, texting Lin Shuang on WeChat.

Her coming out to say hello to Zhou Feng was already the biggest gesture of sincerity from her—the old Lin Shuang would never have bothered with any of this.

The two cousins had their meal, then arranged a ride-share home. On the way, Zhou Zheng thought of something and told Zhou Feng: “Don’t mention this to the family. Don’t tell Xiao Xue either—when the time’s right, I’ll tell them myself.”

“Got it, ge.”

The village was still the same as ever, though everyone had heard that Zhou Zheng had bought a big place in the city. Walking from one end of the village to the other, he couldn’t avoid being asked over and over: “A-Zheng, how big’s the place you bought? Bought a house—does that mean you’re about to take a wife? When do we get to drink your wedding wine?”

“Heard you found yourself a real pretty girl—why haven’t you brought her back to show your grandma, let everyone see, eh?”

“Right, right, time to settle down and start a family. You’re the only one in your household, don’t you know how anxious your grandma gets every day, waiting to hold her great-grandchild?”

Zhou Zheng just smiled.

He really wasn’t young anymore either—twenty-seven.

With so few people left in the village, the young people had all moved away, leaving mostly elders behind—the ones who loved to chat and gossip the most. Zhou Zheng had grown up right under the village’s watchful eye; after his parents died, the village elders had all doted on him a little extra. Aside from the matter of getting married, there was nothing about Zhou Zheng they couldn’t find something to praise.

He’d originally planned to stay one night in the village, but something came up—the village team was doing a count of the economic forestry acreage and pulled in Zhou Zheng, their star student, to help. He swapped classes with a familiar teacher at school and stayed an extra night, then went straight to school to teach the next day when he got back, with evening study duty that night too—by the time he got home it was already past eleven.

He and Lin Shuang weren’t the clingy type; they rarely texted frequently. Over these two days they’d had two or three calls, he’d sent her a few photos, chatted in bits and pieces about how the shop was doing. Lin Shuang, knowing he’d be back late, hadn’t said much, just replied with an “OK.”

By the time he got home, only a dim hallway light was on. Lin Shuang’s bedroom door was closed, warm light leaking through the crack. Zhou Zheng could hear the sound of lively chatter and laughter—not sure if it was a variety show or something else on TV.

He knocked on Lin Shuang’s door; she called out for him to come in. He pushed the door open to find Lin Shuang sitting on a yoga mat, applying body lotion, watching a variety show on her tablet.

“You’re back?” she asked, glancing up between tasks.

“Yeah.” He stood in the doorway, not stepping in.

Lin Shuang paused the show and got up off the mat, walking toward him, a natural smile on her face.

“Everything okay at home?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Tired?”

“Not too bad.” He asked her, “What did you eat these past two days?”

“Plenty—Miao Cai and I went out for hot pot, and I treated everyone at the shop once too.”

Zhou Zheng nodded.

“It’s getting late—you should get some rest soon,” she said, holding onto the door, smiling.

“Right, you too.” He said good night to her.

After his shower, Lin Shuang’s room light was already off, silent, no sound at all. Zhou Zheng glanced over and went back to his own room.

He read for a bit in bed, then turned off the light too, lying in the dark, eyes closed.

After a while, he sat bolt upright from the bed, stood in the middle of the room for a moment, then walked out and quietly knocked on the door next to his.

The knock was very soft.

Lin Shuang, still awake, heard the two soft knocks, and just before Zhou Zheng could turn away, finally answered: “Come in.”

The room was very dark; his eyes took a moment to adjust before he saw her lying against her pillow. He said her name and walked into her bedroom.

• • •

“What’s wrong?”

Zhou Zheng said nothing; in the room she could hear his heavy breathing. He leaned down, one arm braced against the edge of the bed, looked at her for a moment, then decisively scooped her up, blanket and all, and carried her out.

Lin Shuang thumped him in the chest: “Look at you, quite the achiever—a flower thief abducting an innocent maiden in the dead of night.”

She laughed, radiant.

“Going to sleep in my room.”

“I’m on my period,” she said, haughty.

“I know.”

He couldn’t quite say why, but he’d simply missed her so much, an anxious, restless longing—only holding her against him could ease it.

Not doing anything at all was fine too.

Living under one roof, they didn’t share a bed every single night—when they weren’t intimate, she’d just sleep in her own room for the night.

Zhou Zheng buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply, as if in longing and nostalgia.

Lin Shuang sensed this feeling of his vaguely, patting his cheek.

“Missed me?”

He shifted to her nape, nose and lips against the skin behind her ear, where she habitually dabbed a little perfume—he couldn’t quite name the scent, just something that sank into the senses, leaving a languid sweetness.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled and hoarse, carrying something suppressed and aggrieved. “Wanted to come back yesterday already.”

She felt a small flicker of smugness.

She could feel that deep, grounded love of his—it gave her a real sense of security, no need to worry that one day he might just vanish without a word, silently disappear.

Loving her, missing her—that was the highest compliment a woman could receive.

She turned and kissed his lips, giving him a bit of sweetness and comfort.

The two of them held each other, kissing—peck after peck, as natural as drinking water, as breathing—less passion and desire, more tender, lingering affection.

He asked her, hesitant: “Shuangshuang… do you miss me?”

“A little, I guess,” she answered evenly.

There’d be a bit of unfamiliar discomfort to it. Back when they’d lived together before, he’d also go home to the countryside on weekends, sometimes travel for work, and there’d been nights she hadn’t stayed at his place either—the world outside was so wide, full of fun places to be.

Now, though, someone had wedged themselves into her world, and when that person left temporarily, the house was missing a presence—missing a voice, a feeling. It gave her an odd sort of sensation.

Suppose love, too, was a process of free growth—from budding, to gradually flourishing, reaching its peak, then withering and fading away—which stage of growth were the two of them in, respectively?

Now that Zhou Zheng had gotten involved with Qi Ling, he intended to build a real relationship with him, though he had no plans to talk with Qi Ling about family or the past. All children who acted out were projecting past pain and trauma—99% of children from blended families carried some sense of loss and injury, an unsolvable problem. For a teacher in a fast-paced, heavily burdened teaching environment, there simply wasn’t the time to act like a therapist, patiently and gently untangling a student’s inner knots bit by bit.

It was like crossing a bridge—some people made it across smoothly on their own, most wandered for a while before finding their direction, and a very small number stayed stuck on the bridge forever. Choosing to be a teacher was, of course, partly about making a living, but it also meant pointing the way at the critical moment, using the simplest, most direct means to help more students make it across that bridge.

Like the time, years ago, when he’d gone south with people from the village to work in some coastal city, and Ding Yan, taking over his new class, hadn’t been able to reach Zhou Zheng because his phone number was out of service—she’d made the trip out to Hetang Village herself, called four or five times trying to reach him, and finally bought a train ticket and brought him back in person. Just that one act had set Zhou Zheng’s life on the orderly course it had followed ever since.

Qi Ling’s personality was prickly, but not to an extreme degree—at least, under Qi Xiong’s patience, he’d listen to what Qi Xiong had to say. He was guarded around Zhou Zheng, but Zhou Zheng didn’t try to play on emotions with him—instead he’d rope him into small tasks, glance his way a bit more in class, drag him off for a game of table tennis after meals.

Qi Xiong, meanwhile, kept calling, inviting Lin Shuang and Zhou Zheng to come visit.

At the end of the day, everyone was family—it made sense to see each other more often.

Lin Shuang had turned him down several times, but finally, unable to refuse any longer, nodded and agreed, bringing Zhou Zheng along for a meal. Fu Min, hearing the news, was delighted too, specifically reminding them several times not to bring anything, to come empty-handed.

Coming completely empty-handed didn’t quite happen, but Lin Shuang bought a token amount of fruit and snacks.

Zhou Zheng looked at the modest bag of things in her hands and genuinely thought it seemed a bit thin, glancing at it again and again—he was nervous himself too, since this was technically his first time visiting as a guest, and the identity involved was tricky to navigate.

Lin Shuang knew what he was thinking and laughed: “Too formal would actually look worse—we’ve already struck the right pose here.”

There was a bus straight to the suburbs from Fountain Plaza; the two of them boarded. Lin Shuang kept her head down, scrolling her phone, glancing up now and then.

When the bus reached its stop, Lin Shuang stood without moving. Zhou Zheng looked at her questioningly, and she said, “I don’t know the area—this district’s laid out confusingly, all the roads look the same, and the house numbers aren’t clear either. I can’t find my mom’s place.”

She saw Fu Min maybe once a month; her last visit had been half a year ago. She remembered the route vaguely, but not clearly enough—frankly, she just hadn’t bothered to commit it to memory.

Zhou Zheng felt a faint pang of something bittersweet, but was relieved to soon spot Fu Min and Qi Shan, mother and son coming out together to meet them.

The house was already fragrant with food, the spread generous—clearly the hosts had put real effort into the meal, with drinks and alcohol all laid out too.

Qi Ling was there too; seeing Zhou Zheng arrive, his expression stayed calm. After all this time getting to know each other at school, while he and Zhou Zheng weren’t especially close, they weren’t strangers either.

“Come, come, everyone, let’s eat.”

The atmosphere over the meal was excellent—better, at least, than the times Lin Shuang had come by before. Qi Ling wasn’t sulking, Qi Shan was cracking jokes and chiming in, Fu Min had the chance to fuss over Lin Shuang, and Qi Xiong and Zhou Zheng were chatting easily—there wasn’t a single awkward lull, with everyone finding something to talk about with Zhou Zheng.

After the meal, with the weather nice, Zhou Zheng took Qi Shan, and Qi Xiong pulled Qi Ling along, down to play badminton, while Lin Shuang and Fu Min stayed behind to tidy up the table.

Lin Shuang noticed the increasingly visible gray hairs at Fu Min’s temples, and finally couldn’t help but say: “Do you have hair dye at home? Let me dye it for you.”

In the past, Fu Min had always dyed her hair herself, relying on Qi Xiong for the spots she couldn’t reach. With Lin Shuang around, a daughter was naturally more thoughtful and considerate—Fu Min just had to sit and rest.

Mother and daughter went out to the balcony, and Lin Shuang worked the dye into her hair, bit by bit.

Fu Min had a good impression of Zhou Zheng, though she didn’t know much about his family background, and asked Lin Shuang about it.

“His family’s in the countryside. His parents passed away when he was very young—he grew up living with his grandmother and his uncle’s family. He just bought a place a few months ago, still saving up for renovations right now—not an easy road, really.”

Everything else about him was satisfying, it was just that financially he wasn’t quite a match for Lin Shuang. Fu Min frowned slightly, but only said: “If you like him, then keep seeing him. I think Little Teacher Zhou seems like a genuinely good person—hardworking, and able to take care of you. That’s already quite something.”

Her daughter was the prettiest of anyone, of course she’d never lacked for boyfriends—but Fu Min also knew Lin Shuang’s temperament well: with such a comfortable upbringing behind her, she’d always had high standards and a proud streak, wanting to be looked after, not easily impressed by ordinary men.

During those years when Lin Hai had gone to prison, Lin Shuang had graduated from university and left Wancheng, changed her phone number several times, and hadn’t come back to Beiquan for years. Fu Min had often been unable to reach her, worried she might be deceived by some man, led astray. Lin Shuang had been impatient about it: “My family used to have some money too—I’m not so shallow that I’d get tricked and sold off. Besides, with this face alone I could land myself some rich man as a long-term meal ticket. There’s no need for me to ruin myself. Don’t worry, I won’t go down some crooked path.”

“I wasn’t thinking that much—I just feel he seems like a decent person, worth dating,” Lin Shuang said flatly. “As for anything further down the line, I haven’t thought about it.”

“Actually I wasn’t planning to bring Zhou Zheng along today at all, but from the way Uncle Qi was talking, it seemed like he really wanted us to meet in person, so that’s why he came along too,” Lin Shuang said, getting straight to the point. “Don’t think too highly of the two of us—it’s still early days, nothing settled yet. As for the Qi Ling business, whatever thanks are owed, they’re still owed, and shouldn’t be shortchanged at all.”

“I know,” Fu Min nodded. “If Qi Ling can get into a good university, the family will finally have some peace too.”

After the badminton game, Qi Shan and Zhou Zheng had hit it off remarkably well—Qi Shan even clamored to add Zhou Zheng on WeChat, leaving Lin Shuang wondering when elementary schoolers had even started using WeChat.

Qi Xiong seemed to have had a good chat with Zhou Zheng too; even Qi Ling looked calm, noticeably more docile.

Lin Shuang and Zhou Zheng said their goodbyes to head home; both Fu Min and Qi Xiong offered to walk them out, but Zhou Zheng gently declined: “No need, Uncle, Auntie—I know the way. Shuangshuang and I can head back on our own.”

Lin Shuang lifted her eyelids lazily, glancing at him, and said to Fu Min: “Go on back inside—really, no need to see us off.”

The two of them turned to walk out. Partway down the road, Zhou Zheng stopped, glanced at the person beside him, and naturally took Lin Shuang’s hand.

Lin Shuang let him hold it.

“Let’s go home,” he said. “I’ll make you something good to eat tonight.”