Zhou Feng was in his third year of junior high at Beiquan High School’s affiliated middle school, and had just finished the entrance exams. Zhou Zheng was helping him pack up his dorm belongings, and called Shunzi: “Ah Shun, are you free with the car today? I’m bringing Little Feng home.”

Shunzi was a fellow villager who, after graduating from vocational high school, had worked outside for a while, then bought a used car and returned to Beiquan City to drive for a ride-hailing service: “I’m free, I’m in Wancheng right now, I’ll come pick you two up this afternoon.”

“Good.”

Zhou Zheng patted his cousin’s shoulder: “Come on, let’s go out and look around first.”

The two brothers went out to eat, then to a barbershop for haircuts. Zhou Zheng bought Zhou Feng a set of clothes. As they passed a phone shop, Zhou Feng jumped onto Zhou Zheng’s back: “Brother, Brother Zheng, if I get into Beiquan High School, will you buy me a phone?”

Last year when Zhou Xue went to college, their parents had bought her a phone, and Zhou Zheng had bought a computer, which had made Zhou Feng envious for quite a while. Now that he was heading into high school, he wanted an electronic device of his own too.

“The school bans phones. If I were your homeroom teacher, yours would be the first one I confiscated.”

“Brother, are you teaching first-years next term?”

“Third-years.”

“Then it’s fine, you can buy me one, I’ll just hide it well.”

Zhou Zheng’s expression turned deadpan: “I could report you to your homeroom teacher.”

Zhou Feng let out a wail.

Zhou Zheng went to the supermarket, bought some meat and vegetables, and also bread, eight-treasure porridge, and other soft, sweet snacks. By afternoon, Shunzi drove over to pick them up, loaded Zhou Feng’s luggage and bedding into the car, and the group drove back to Lotus Pond Village.

The village was near Lotus Peak, tucked in a mountain hollow, with beautiful scenery and abundant groundwater — many ponds, many lotus roots growing in the water — hence the village’s name, Lotus Pond Village.

They’d called ahead, and Zhou Zheng’s grandmother had long been waiting at the village entrance. Seeing Shunzi’s car, her face lit up with joy; she rubbed Zhou Feng’s head first, then took hold of Zhou Zheng, beaming: “You’re back, the chicken’s stewing at home, just waiting for the two of you to come home before taking it off the heat.”

The old woman was seventy this year, still fairly sturdy in health, only her teeth weren’t good, so food was hard for her to chew.

“Shunzi, Shunzi, you come too, stay for dinner.”

“No thanks, Grandma, I still need to go back to the city to keep driving, won’t eat this time.” Shunzi helped unload Zhou Feng’s luggage, then the car’s rear zipped away again.

Zhou Feng’s parents were in the kitchen cooking over the fire; hearing the noise, they came out. Second Uncle Zhou touched his son’s shoulder first: “Kid, how’d the exams go? Think you’ll get into Beiquan High School?”

“What’s so hard about Beiquan High School.” Zhou Feng’s grades were decent enough, and with Zhou Zheng’s extra tutoring on the side, he was full of confidence. He slipped free from his father’s large palm and, the moment he entered the house, dashed straight for his own room.

Second Uncle Zhou then patted Zhou Zheng’s shoulder: “Ah Zheng, come, come, sit down and eat something first.”

The first thing through the door, as always, was the sugar-water egg dish made by Zhou Zheng’s grandmother. She hovered by Zhou Zheng, nagging away: “Is teaching tiring? Your throat still doesn’t sound great — tomorrow I’ll go up into the mountains and pick some honeysuckle for you to steep in water.”

“It’s much better.” Zhou Zheng ate with his head down. “I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

Dinner was eaten at his uncle’s house. Zhou Xue had also called home, saying she probably wouldn’t come back this summer, staying at school to work, and would come back to stay for a few days when it was time for the busy harvest and grain-drying season.

After dinner, Zhou Zheng helped his grandmother back to their own house next door.

The Zhou family had two sons — Zhou Zheng’s father and his second uncle. The village-assigned residential plots put the two houses right next to each other. Zhou Feng’s family’s house was a new three-story building put up six or seven years ago, tiled on the exterior walls, with a drying terrace on the roof — by village standards it was a fairly nicely furnished house.

Zhou Zheng’s family’s house was a two-story brick building his parents had built before they died, weathered by years of wind and rain. Things had happened suddenly back then, and the house had never been finished when they passed — only the rough shell had been built. It wasn’t until after Zhou Zheng graduated from college that he’d patched up the house bit by bit, sealed the roof, painted the walls, and finally considered it complete.

The first floor mainly held the kitchen, a storage room, and two large bedrooms — Zhou Zheng’s grandparents and parents had once lived together there. Later his grandfather passed away, and one room became storage for old items, while his grandmother lived in the other. Zhou Zheng’s own room had moved up to the second floor. Village houses were all built spacious, so the rooms sat rather empty; Zhou Zheng’s room held only a carpenter-made bed, a wardrobe, and a desk.

Unable to sleep in the middle of the night, he got up from bed and, by moonlight, rummaged out a rusted harmonica from inside the desk drawer. Leaning against a chair, he blew a couple of notes, low and hoarse, the melody halting and stiff.

The milk tea shop’s basic renovation hadn’t required too much investment, and the construction timeline had been kept as short as possible; many small tasks Lin Shuang handled herself. Over the course of half a month, Lin Shuang visibly grew thinner day by day, while Miao Cai’s face grew rounder and rounder — by the time Miao Cai realized it, it was already too late.

Her relationship with her boyfriend was stable, and the two families had recently been discussing the wedding. She’d originally planned to lose weight to fit into her wedding dress, but now, thanks to Lin Shuang, her weight-loss journey had gained an extra obstacle.

Zhou Zheng stayed at his hometown for a few days; when he returned to school for a meeting, he overheard the female teachers chatting together: “The new milk tea shop outside the school is under renovation, the sign’s already up.”

“Is that the one called ‘Changliu Mountain’? Such a literary name.”

“I glanced inside when I passed by too, it looks really nice — wonder how the drinks taste.”

The school’s young female teachers all loved milk tea, but unfortunately the shops around the school were mediocre; only a few places downtown were decent, and those were too far, so they could only order delivery every few days to satisfy the craving.

After the meeting, Zhou Zheng passed by the milk tea shop — a tripod ladder was set up on the ground, and Lin Shuang stood on it fiddling with a projector.

The door sensor bell chimed.

She heard the sound and turned her head; Zhou Zheng reached out to steady the ladder: “Careful.”

“It’s you.”

Lin Shuang paused what she was doing, greeting him with neither warmth nor coldness.

It had been a while since they’d last met; she’d assumed this person wouldn’t show up again.

But then again, the milk tea shop was right beside the school — there’d always be chances to run into each other.

Zhou Zheng’s expression was ordinary, as if that day’s conversation had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace on him at all: “Just passed by here, saw you up on the ladder.”

“The exams are over, why is Teacher Zhou still at school?”

“Faculty meeting today.” Zhou Zheng looked up at her. “What are you working on?”

“There’s a misaligned hole in the projector mount.” She squinted, adjusting the angle, standing on tiptoe on the ladder.

“Why don’t you let me try?”

Lin Shuang looked at him: “Can you do it?”

“There are projectors in every classroom, we use them all the time.” Zhou Zheng reached out. “Hand it over, I’ll do it — it’s not very safe for you like that.”

Lin Shuang stood on the ladder, looking down at him. A few seconds later, she suddenly smiled and climbed down: “Then thank you, Teacher Zhou.”

Zhou Zheng fiddled with it for a couple of moments and quickly climbed down from the ladder: “There, try it now.”

She stood at the counter, remotely turning it on, adjusting the picture quality and focus, then turned to thank him: “Thanks.”

Zhou Zheng put the ladder away, murmured something polite in reply, and then walked out of the milk tea shop.

Standing at the shop entrance, he turned back again: “I’m on duty at school these next few days — if you need any help, you can find me.”

Lin Shuang curved the corner of her mouth into a smile, lowering her head.

The milk tea shop’s soft furnishings were arranged by Lin Shuang bit by bit. Beiquan City had no large-scale decoration market, so most of the shop’s items were things Lin Shuang had sourced online — from the style and dimensions of the tables and chairs down to a single label sticker, everything trivial yet given careful thought. Lin Shuang arrived at the shop at nine every morning and stayed there the whole day.

Zhou Zheng’s rented apartment was near the school; taking a certain route from home to school would take him past her shop. He kept seeing her sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing cotton gloves, waving her slender arms as she unpacked deliveries and assembled fixtures.

He was only passing by, but seeing her busy at work, he would find himself unconsciously walking in. After this happened several times, Lin Shuang teased him: “Is Teacher Zhou here to work a summer job? Should I start discussing your wages with you?”

Zhou Zheng’s complexion wasn’t fair to begin with, and a flush of red touched his cheeks; with his head down, his awkwardness wasn’t visible. He picked up an assembled stool and carried it over, his voice even: “I’m used to it. At school, setting things up, arranging venues — it’s basically always the male teachers who do it.”

“Just think of me as a friend,” Zhou Zheng said, head down. “We’re at least acquainted now, after all.”

Lin Shuang glanced at him, didn’t respond, and didn’t interfere either, standing up: “I’m going out to buy a pack of cigarettes.”

The shops around the school were no-smoking zones, so she went to a small convenience store rather far away. By the time she came back, Zhou Zheng had already assembled all the boxes and stools, and was now installing the floor sockets.

Lin Shuang stood at the entrance smoking a cigarette.

He wore a washed-out plain black T-shirt, bent over on his knees on the floor, his black hair thick but cut very short, the back of his neck showing a small bony ridge, lean and taut in its curve, the thin fabric clinging to his body — his shoulders and back lines turned out to be smooth and attractive.

Zhou Zheng worked efficiently, his hands never pausing, finishing up half a day’s worth of Lin Shuang’s tasks ahead of time, then swiftly cleaning up the tools on the floor and sweeping the ground — skilled in a way that didn’t seem like a high school teacher at all, more like a craftsman.

Piled in the corner was a small mountain of packaging boxes and leftover renovation scraps accumulated over the past few days. Zhou Zheng turned to ask her: “Should I call someone to come clear this junk out?”

“Sure.”

Lin Shuang had assumed he’d find someone to haul away construction waste, but instead a scrap collector showed up quickly, weighed and bought up the mountain of discarded materials, and even paid her fifty yuan.

The shop was instantly spotless.

Truth be told, a useful man could sometimes be quite handy to have around.