On the Beiquan High School forums and alumni groups, Lin Shuang had made a name for herself purely by looks, a perennial topic of conversation.

Everyone loved keeping tabs on pretty girls—blurry candid street shots surfaced every few days, Lin Shuang’s profile, her silhouette, her smile, each one setting off waves of drooling, admiring shrieks.

Lin Shuang had grown used to this kind of attention. What mattered most was that the photos looked good—her looks, her poise, her outfits had to hold up from every angle. If it was some ugly, crooked-mouthed shot, she’d be the first to jump in and report the photographer.

For some reason, this sort of post always got deleted fast—stirring up a fuss on the forum’s front page for half a day before vanishing without a trace.

Their relationship wasn’t loudly announced, but it genuinely couldn’t stay low-key either—word gradually got around until even the students started gossiping about it.

This pairing was too juicy—a flirtatious, gorgeous shop owner and a strait-laced male teacher, breaking up and getting back together, endlessly entangled. The key detail was that Lin Shuang seemed to have a story with whoever she paired with, and Zhou Zheng had always been well-liked and well-regarded at school, seemingly upstanding through and through—who knew he’d fall into the boss lady’s trap not once but twice, the romantic entanglement leaving everyone’s imagination running wild~

The teachers loved to gossip too, teasing Zhou Zheng at every meeting: “Teacher Zhou here, the hero undone by beauty. Your professional skills are clearly solid—maybe you could teach a class, share some pointers with the rest of us.”

Zhou Zheng didn’t play along, deflecting with his coworkers through vague non-answers.

His attitude was simply: neither deny it, nor confirm it, nor resist it.

Ding Yan heard about it too, and made a point of asking Zhou Zheng directly, studying him: “Back together again? You really do like this girl, huh?”

Zhou Zheng rubbed the tip of his nose, still a little sheepish in front of his old teacher, and gave a small hum in acknowledgment.

“When are you bringing her home for a meal, let your teacher’s wife take a look at her?”

“Whenever there’s time later—I worry she might feel a bit shy about it.”

On Lin Shuang’s side, plenty of female students came by the milk tea shop to check her out. Whenever Lin Shuang had a free moment, they’d chat with her, giggling: “We’re students in Teacher Zhou’s class.”

“Which Teacher Zhou?” Lin Shuang played dumb again, as usual. “Don’t know him.”

“Boss lady, don’t try to weasel out of it, our classmates saw you—holding hands with Teacher Zhou, crossing the street.”

“You sure it was holding hands? Don’t go slandering my good name.”

“Boss lady, you’d better keep a close eye on Teacher Zhou—he’s super popular in our class, boys and girls both.”

“Are the kids in your class blind or something?”

“Teacher Zhou is so handsome, and the way he looks when he’s explaining a problem, all cute and dorky, frowning like that—so cool. Sweet one moment, sharp the next, so charming.”

“Sweet one moment, sharp the next? Was your Teacher Zhou a seasoning jar in a past life?”

“Boss lady, we heard you two broke up and got back together—a real fairy-tale romance, a shattered mirror made whole again. So beautiful.”

“You sure that’s ‘love’? Buy a couple cups of milk tea and suddenly it’s a legendary romance?”

Lin Shuang loved sparring with this gaggle of chattering senior girls—kids this age loved chasing rumors, seizing on the smallest detail and turning it into an endless conversation.

Back home, Lin Shuang asked Zhou Zheng: “Doesn’t your class gossip about you?”

“Students came to find you at the shop?” Zhou Zheng set down the math book in his hands.

“A few girls come by pretty often, quite lively—look like your fan club.”

Zhou Zheng was indeed frequently surrounded by a handful of girls in class; he shook his head, smiling. “Bunch of kids.”

“Doesn’t it affect your teaching?” Lin Shuang asked him. “I remember back in my day, we used to love riling up the teachers.”

“I’ve got a method.” He said it with complete composure. “I bring a test paper to class every day—the moment I step up to the podium, I start pop quizzing. Anyone who can’t answer, the whole class gets an extra worksheet. They get so nervous, the classroom goes dead silent. Works pretty well.”

“And if they act up during evening study, I just start explaining problems, give them a bit of brainstorming to chew on,” Zhou Zheng reminisced, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. “They behave pretty well after that.”

“You devil…” Lin Shuang poked his shoulder. “Any teacher who does the ‘brainstorming’ thing is basically a demon.”

Zhou Zheng gripped his pen, sketching a diagram on paper, a smile tucked at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s cooking in the kitchen?”

“Apple and cinnamon mulled wine,” he answered. “The kids in my class have been giving me so many apples these past few days, more than I can eat.”

Christmas had rolled around again, and with it the season of students exchanging apples—the apple gift boxes outside school were selling as briskly as ever, and even the milk tea shop had rolled out two apple-themed hot drinks.

Even without being a homeroom teacher, Zhou Zheng remained well-liked in class. Teachers technically weren’t supposed to accept gifts from students, but a single apple fell within acceptable bounds—between two classes of over a hundred students, plus the math competition class, Zhou Zheng had been hauling home no less than eight or ten pounds of apples these past few days.

Lin Shuang often heard his phone buzzing nonstop with messages from students, and felt a small twinge of jealousy.

Why hadn’t she had such a tidy, put-together math teacher back when she was in school?

“Apple soup boiled with red wine—does that actually taste good?”

“Should be pretty decent.” He often tinkered with new recipes in his spare time. “I’ve tested the proportions a few times already—this batch should work out.”

Once finished, he ladled it into a special dish—the color and presentation looked lovely. Lin Shuang tasted it straight from his hand and let out an appreciative “wow”—the apple chunks were soft and tender, the orange segments melted down to a soft pulp, the fruity aroma intertwined with the wine, the flavor clean and mellow, unexpectedly delightful.

She contentedly cradled her bowl, eating, while Zhou Zheng sat on the rug grading students’ math homework—the room now held Lin Shuang’s vanity table and jewelry cabinet, his desk relocated to the next room over; but when both of them were home, they still preferred sticking close together, curled up on the lazy sofa each doing their own thing.

Most of a small pot of mulled wine ended up in Lin Shuang’s stomach, with an occasional sip fed to Zhou Zheng too. He looked at the bowl held up to him, then at her slightly tipsy, star-bright eyes, and something stirred in him—he leaned in to claim the sweetness from her lips instead.

Her lips and tongue carried a sweet wine fragrance—warm, tipsy, intoxicating.

The two of them fell naturally into a kiss, and kiss led to kiss… led to peeling off each other’s clothes.

Winter was, after all, prime season for tangling between the sheets—bodies entwined, misbehaving beneath the covers.

They’d been spending an awful lot of time in bed lately, both of them eager to explore, wanting to try different sensations.

Urgent, unhurried, dizzying, gentle…

It was rather like reviewing material already learned—each point reinforced again and again, deepening the sensation and the impression. Lin Shuang felt a little like a math textbook under his fingertips, devoured line by line, studied thoroughly through and through.

She… had come to a new understanding of her own body.

The study atmosphere was so good, how could an old hand like her not go back for a refresher course? Not since her first love had Lin Shuang ever been this invested in a man—now, passively drawn in, she was putting Zhou Zheng’s lessons to good practical use.

An excellent boyfriend indeed—a true subject guide, a conscientious, dedicated good teacher.

Both of them were faintly sweaty now, slightly sticky, bodies languid, though not quite exhausted. Lin Shuang’s eyes turned dreamy and half-lidded, her voice pitifully sweet: “Can I have a post-coital cigarette, Teacher Zhou?”

Smoking in bed afterward—she was a little afraid Zhou Zheng might lift her up and lecture her about it again.

“Smoke if you want to.” Zhou Zheng went back to the book he hadn’t finished—afterward, he was willing to indulge her bad habit.

Lin Shuang held an ashtray, lying against the edge of the bed, blowing smoke rings—a sweet watermelon flavor, the curling smoke carrying a sweet fragrance too.

Zhou Zheng, also feeling lazy, looked up from his book to see her propped up on one arm, her long hair swept over one shoulder, half her body hanging off the bed, her toes hooked over his knee to keep from sliding off. In the warm, hazy light, a stretch of snow-white back showed, her slender frame like a butterfly poised to take flight, her posture sensual, her expression hazy and ambiguous.

Not a perfect girl, but more vivid than perfection.

Zhou Zheng thought—sometimes she felt very close to him, and other times, very, very far away.

Zhou Zheng shifted over, gathering the butterfly into his embrace, holding her loosely, asking gently: “Was the cigarette good?”

“Pretty great.”

“Great how?”

“Dizzy,” she said, cheek resting on her own hand, her arm hanging off the edge of the bed. “My head goes blank. Really relaxing.”

He kissed her forehead, then kissed the cool trace of smoke lingering on her lips, his voice low: “Want another round?”

“Another round of what?” She arched a slender brow.

“Just like this.” He pressed close to her ear, giving it a sticky-sweet kiss.

Lin Shuang, cigarette still between her lips, giggled, hooking his chin, her eyes shimmering: “Double the pleasure?”

“Yeah, double the pleasure.” His voice came out low and blurred.

Every so often… Zhou Zheng would suddenly burst with a kind of restrained intensity utterly at odds with his usual demeanor.

Lin Shuang loved this contrast to no end.

She let out a soft hum, savoring a deep drag of the cigarette as though relishing it, and then her cherry lips were caught in a kiss. Her long, slender arm rested on the edge of the bed, her seductive red-tipped fingers holding a slim women’s cigarette, the small ember at its tip trembling faintly with every small motion, quivering like a hazy halo of light. The accumulated ash grew thicker, and at one sudden jolt it scattered loose, along with half the burning cigarette slipping from her fingers to land together in the ashtray set on the floor.

The modern cigarette, printed with a faint red lip mark, its small ember flickering out silently.

The mood in bed, however, remained very much alive.

Lin Shuang met up with Luo Wei.

Luo Wei had given birth to a chubby baby girl and had only recently come back to work after her maternity leave ended. She’d made a special trip to the milk tea shop, bringing Lin Shuang a box of celebratory pastries.

The two of them hadn’t seen each other in nearly a year—during that time Luo Wei had been pregnant, giving birth, and rarely chatted with Lin Shuang. Meeting again now, Lin Shuang felt Luo Wei had grown much more composed—perhaps partly because her figure hadn’t fully bounced back yet—her round face and chin-length bob giving her a quiet, gentle look, a soft glow in her eyes no matter what she looked at, the tenderness of a new mother.

Luo Wei held up her phone, showing Lin Shuang photos of the baby.

Lin Shuang had come across her social media posts before—maternity photos and daily baby updates—but had always scrolled past them, having little interest in infants.

“Want some milk tea?”

“No, I’m trying to lose weight,” Luo Wei said with a giggle, patting her stomach. “I’m still twenty pounds heavier than before I got pregnant—haven’t shed it yet.”

Twenty pounds of extra weight—if that happened to Lin Shuang, she’d absolutely fall apart in tears.

Not allowed to be ugly, not allowed to be fat, not allowed to look shabby—these were her supreme life principles.

“What about you? Haven’t been in touch in ages—got a boyfriend?” Luo Wei was thoroughly absorbed in her baby, having spent a while entirely oblivious to the outside world.

“I do.” Lin Shuang glanced at her, a faint smile on her face. “You know him.”

“Who? Which old classmate?”

“No.” She came over carrying a lemon water. “Zhou Zheng.”

“Zhou Zheng?” Luo Wei’s expression flashed with surprise, quickly turning to delight. “Congratulations, congratulations.”

Luo Wei had, aside from his family circumstances, always thought fairly highly of Zhou Zheng. Hearing suddenly that Lin Shuang and Zhou Zheng had paired up, she felt a slight twinge of awkwardness, momentarily unsure how to phrase her first compliment.

“You two actually ended up together, haha, quite the twist—guess you two were fated after all.”

Thinking back on it now, Luo Wei’s own past eagerness to pump Lin Shuang for information about Zhou Zheng felt a bit clueless in hindsight.

“How’s Teacher Zhou doing lately? I haven’t been in touch with him in ages either—almost forgotten what he looks like,” Luo Wei said, smiling. “When did this happen? You could’ve announced good news like this, you know.”

“It’s been a while now, nothing major, really.” Lin Shuang waved it off casually, lifting the box of celebratory pastries in her hand with a smile. “He’ll be by later—I can just give him this.”

“Perfect—Teacher Zhou eats my celebratory pastry today, and in a decade or so I’ll be counting on him for my daughter’s schooling,” Luo Wei teased.

Zhou Zheng came by the milk tea shop from school, ordering a few cups of tea for his office colleagues. Seeing Luo Wei, he offered his congratulations first, then looked at a few photos of the baby, his smile warm: “Very cute.”

The three of them chatted for a bit before Zhou Zheng picked up his bag of tea to-go and headed out; Lin Shuang walked him to the door, and the two of them exchanged a lingering glance at the entrance.

Luo Wei watched with visible curiosity.

She’d never expected Lin Shuang to fall for Zhou Zheng, nor had she expected Zhou Zheng to have changed so much—still the same person, but his appearance and demeanor had quietly shifted, more grounded and confident now, radiating an assurance that drew the eye.

From certain angles, the two of them were actually a reasonably good match—one dazzling and bold, the other steady and reserved, complementing each other well.

That evening, back home, Lin Shuang and Zhou Zheng had a rare, level-headed conversation about the topic of children.

“Do you really like kids?” Lin Shuang asked him.

“Not particularly,” Zhou Zheng said, flipping through the book in his hands.

“But you and Luo Wei seemed to get along so well, and you’re always patient and gentle with your students too.”

“That’s just professional dedication. I want to feel like I’m doing something meaningful, helping students find a better path. That matters to me.” Zhou Zheng thought about it seriously. “But I don’t like who I was as a child, and I don’t much care for ‘kids’ in general.”

“Why not?”

“Wasn’t happy.” He glanced at her. “And I’m afraid of passing on my own experiences to a child of my own.”

Lin Shuang paused, falling silent for a moment, and stroked the top of his fluffy head. “Poor thing.”

“Did you… have a hard time after your parents passed away?”

Zhou Zheng didn’t answer. Lin Shuang felt the question was somewhat redundant—asking herself, in a way, whether her own life had gone well back then.

“It was fine, actually. I still had my grandparents, and I met all kinds of teachers, and… various friends along the way.”

“Are you afraid of losing your looks?” Zhou Zheng asked her. “Getting ugly? Gaining weight? Looking unkempt?”

Lin Shuang glanced at the vanity mirror, murmuring quietly: “Without my looks, I feel like nothing would matter anymore.”

“And besides, I only want to live for myself—no interest in having a kid just to torment myself with.”

Zhou Zheng touched her cheek and kissed her.

Zhou Zheng’s year-end performance bonus came out to thirty thousand this year; combined with the balance on his card, he handed over ninety thousand total to Lin Shuang.

Lin Shuang looked at the balance, eyebrow raised.

“Salary and bonus, plus these past few months’ freelance income, and a dividend payout from the village co-op investment.”

His entire net worth—about as strong a gesture of sincerity as he could make.

She had a certain feeling that the balance on Zhou Zheng’s bank card was like water in a sponge—squeeze hard enough, and there was always a little more to find.

Not only had she wrung him dry physically, she’d wrung his wallet dry too.

Zhou Zheng had originally planned to buy a modest commuter car in the low six figures, easily within his means for the loan payments—but the car Lin Shuang had picked out was a Lexus, three hundred thousand, and she planned to cover the remainder in full herself.

Usage rights of the car belonged to Zhou Zheng; ownership belonged to Lin Shuang.

The two of them went to the dealership to pick up the car. Lin Shuang asked him: “What happens if we break up? How would we split this asset?”

Zhou Zheng thought about it, rubbing his face with a slightly gloomy expression: “We’ll figure it out then.”

If his girlfriend had run off, who’d even care about a car at that point.