Since it was meant as an opening promotion, the exam papers given away didn’t need to worry about paper quality or practicality — Zhou Zheng had redone the layout of the exam papers, turning them into something like a finished supermarket flyer, and brought Lin Shuang a sample to look at.

At the time, Lin Shuang had only had a passing idea; she hadn’t thought it through so carefully. She’d asked Zhou Zheng for the digital version of the exam papers, planning to simply take them to a print shop and run off a few hundred copies, tucking one randomly into each order of milk tea. But she’d forgotten that copy-shop A4 paper was big and flimsy — not easy to pull out neatly, and it would take extra manpower to repackage.

“Thank you, I hadn’t even thought about those issues,” Lin Shuang said, holding the papers and admiring them. “This looks really nice.”

The paper was clean, black text on white, the layout tight and attractive, with the tea shop’s logo and subject labels printed in the corner — so anyone could tell at a glance which subject each paper was for, making it convenient for the studious kids collecting the full set.

“Thanks so much,” Lin Shuang said, genuinely grateful. “I didn’t expect you to be so thoughtful about this, Teacher Zhou. Sorry for the trouble.”

“It’s nothing. I often have to do PPT layouts for class, so this was easy — no trouble at all.”

He paused for a moment, then wrote down a phone number. “If you think this is usable, you can contact this print shop directly — they have their own printing press, and the price is much lower than going through a copy shop.”

“Would a print shop even want a small order like mine?” Lin Shuang asked him.

Zhou Zheng pressed his lips together. “Just… mention my name, that’s all. He’s a friend of mine.”

Lin Shuang understood and thanked him with a smile. “Then I really do owe you thanks, Teacher Zhou.”

She wanted to say something more, but at that moment someone came into the shop, and Zhou Zheng gave her a slight nod and turned to leave the tea shop.

Lin Shuang watched his figure pause beneath a tree by the street, solitary, the traffic flowing past in front of him like a paused film frame. The next time she looked, he had already vanished.

She dialed the printing shop number he’d left. The person who answered was a middle-aged man with a heavy local accent: “Oh, you’re Teacher Zhou’s friend. I have the sample here, how many copies do you need? I’ll bring them over tomorrow.”

Lin Shuang first ordered a few hundred copies; the price really was cheap, and since the amount was small, the man didn’t even ask for a deposit. The next day, the salesman delivered them in person, and Lin Shuang settled the payment while chatting with him.

“With Teacher Zhou vouching for you, what’s there to worry about.” The salesman shrugged it off. “We mainly take orders from schools — if it weren’t for Teacher Zhou’s sake, we wouldn’t even bother with a small job like yours.”

Lin Shuang bowed repeatedly in thanks. “Thank you so much for the trouble.”

If you asked which teacher was busiest and most exhausted during summer break, it would undoubtedly be the PE teacher. In the month before final exams, under the “care” of his colleagues who taught the main subjects, Zhang Fan had dragged his “frail” body along and taken sick leave in solidarity with the students in his classes; but come summer break, he was up at six every morning, full of energy, running training camps for the school’s athletic students, wearing them out all morning, and then in the afternoon working with the education bureau and police on drowning-prevention patrols along the shallow river stretches.

Through several days of scorching heat, Zhang Fan kept coming by for a berry milkshake and a chat with Lin Shuang.

“Teacher Zhang likes milk tea too?” Lin Shuang asked him.

“Oh, it’s for a colleague. She likes this flavor.”

“For Teacher Xie?”

“How did you know?” Zhang Fan let out an “ah,” looking at Lin Shuang. “You’re something else, boss — you even know who it’s for.”

Teachers at the school had their own factions too — the veteran teachers, senior in standing, left as soon as class ended and stayed out of things; the middle-aged teachers had families and household duties; the young teachers were full of passion and energy, worked themselves to the bone at school, and often hung out together for meals and fun.

At least from what Lin Shuang could see, the ones on duty at school during summer break were mostly young teachers. The female teachers would come by Lin Shuang’s shop for milk tea after their shift ended at noon, chatting a bit, complaining a bit.

“Teacher Xie’s been in two or three times, always ordering this same flavor — light ice, extra milkshake, extra dehydrated agar — same as your order.”

Beautiful woman against beautiful woman, there was always some unspoken rivalry, leaving a deeper impression than most.

Zhang Fan’s place and Xie Xiaomeng’s weren’t far apart; he’d pick up a milk tea on his way home and drop it off at her building — though whether Teacher Xie appreciated it or not was another matter.

“Hey.” Zhang Fan scratched his head, about to explain something further, when his phone rang in his pocket.

The call was from Zhou Zheng, asking Zhang Fan for a favor — to go help copy some school materials from the archive room and send them to his phone.

“Alright, alright, got it, this afternoon I’ll go take care of it… can’t forget, I never forget your orders, don’t worry.”

Lin Shuang handed him his packed milk tea, a smile in her eyes.

Zhang Fan noticed the meaningful look in her gaze and shook his phone with some awkwardness. “That’s just another colleague’s call — the school’s math teacher, asking me for a favor.”

“Teacher Zhou?” Lin Shuang raised an eyebrow.

“Right, right, Zhou Zheng.” Zhang Fan replied reflexively. “The boss knows Zhou Zheng too?”

“Isn’t Teacher Zhou often on duty at school?” Lin Shuang suddenly remembered — the day Mr. Polo Shirt had left, she’d seen Zhou Zheng once, and hadn’t seen him since.

“Zhou Zheng went to the provincial capital for young teachers’ training — he’ll be back in a few days.”

No wonder.

After finishing his training in Wancheng, Zhou Zheng brought Zhou Xue back to Beiquan with him and dropped her off in front of Lin Shuang’s tea shop: “Go on in and get something to drink first — I’ll swing by home and then we’ll head back to the village together.”

“Bro, I’ll go with you,” she said.

“It’s hot, don’t come with me. My place is a mess anyway. Just wait here for me for a bit.” His rented place wasn’t very big, not really suited for hosting anyone.

Zhou Xue nodded and walked into the tea shop called “Changliu Mountain.”

The red-haired clerk, wearing a white shirt and a green apron, was wiping down the counter; seeing a customer come in, she turned to wash her hands at the sink.

“One taro bubble tea, please.”

“One moment.”

Someone was sitting in the corner of the shop, hair a striking color, head bent over her phone as she leisurely ate a bowl of rice noodles from a clay pot.

Zhou Xue glanced over and noticed she was wearing the same white shirt as the clerk, except hers had one less button done up, revealing a slender, elegant neck and part of a bare shoulder, along with delicate linear pearl earrings — the plain shirt somehow taking on a casual, careless allure.

Lin Shuang sensed someone sizing her up, turned toward Zhou Xue and smiled, her pretty eyes curving.

Zhou Xue, who had just finished her first year of college and had recently been picking up makeup habits from her roommate’s influence, thought at first glance that the makeup was a bit heavy, but at second glance, she noticed how well it suited her face.

She held her milk tea and sat in the shop waiting for Zhou Zheng, listening to this gorgeous-looking older woman talking softly on the phone in a soft, listless tone — like her roommate who liked to flirt with men.

Zhou Xue rubbed the goosebumps rising on her arm and pursed her lips, feeling no goodwill at all toward this person.

Zhou Zheng, at home, packed a few pieces of clothing; earlier he’d picked up medicine prescribed for his grandmother at the hospital but hadn’t had a chance to bring it back, so this time he’d take it along too.

When he arrived, Lin Shuang had just hung up her call and was clearing away her lunch dishes on the counter, taking the clay pot back to the noodle shop a few meters away.

It was three in the afternoon now, and Zhou Zheng’s gaze slid from the clay pot in her hands up to her face, a bit startled.

“Just had lunch?”

“You’re back?”

“I’ve been training in Wancheng for two weeks — just got in at noon.” He explained on his way in, his gaze earnest on her. “Eating late isn’t good for you — you’ll get a stomach condition.”

Lin Shuang smiled. “I know.”

“Bro.” Zhou Xue poked her head out and called for Zhou Zheng.

Lin Shuang turned. “Your sister?”

Zhou Zheng gave a low affirmative sound. “My cousin. She’s studying at university in Wancheng, back for a few days.”

Lin Shuang nodded. “Go on, catch up.”

She stepped outside and chatted with the noodle shop owner for a bit; by the time she came back in, Zhou Xue and Zhou Zheng had already left.

“Boss.” Nana pointed at the counter. “Teacher Zhou dropped something off just now — said he picked it up randomly on a business trip, a little gift for you.”

It was a small, plump, squatting lucky cat figurine in a color that matched the shop’s decor, one paw raised, its cat-paw curled into a little circle. Lin Shuang glanced at it, pulled out a colorful heart-shaped straw, and inserted it into the little cat’s paw — like a miniature knight gripping a sword.

“Kind of cute.” She poked at the cat’s ear with a fingertip.

In past years, Zhou Zheng and Zhou Xue’s usual route home from Beiquan High School was to take the public bus to the bus station first, then a rural shuttle bus back home — Hetang Village was too small for the rural buses to stop there, so they had to get off in the neighboring larger village and walk half an hour to reach home.

These past few years, taxis had become more common in the city, and with ride-hailing apps around, carpooling and hired cars had become popular in the countryside too, taking passengers straight to their doorsteps — much more convenient than the bus.

Shunzai’s car was fully booked for the day, so Zhou Zheng arranged another car for himself and Zhou Xue.

There were other passengers in the car too. The two siblings sat in the back seat, their backpacks and luggage stacked on the middle seat.

The people in the car chatted for a bit; as the car sped along, the conversation gradually died down. Zhou Xue noticed her brother turn his head to look out the window for a long while, then pull out his phone to reply to a message.

She had sharp eyes; once Zhou Zheng finished replying, his phone stayed open on WeChat, where the main screen showed a pinned conversation — grey, blank.

Zhou Xue narrowed her eyes and saw her brother’s finger pause, then tap open that pinned chat — the chat window was completely empty.

Maybe Zhou Zheng had cleared the chat history with this person, or maybe they’d never actually chatted at all.

He backed out of the chat, went back to the main screen, then tapped in again — repeating this several times, and finally tapped open the other person’s profile picture.

Zhou Xue suddenly leaned in to look — the girl’s hair color was very eye-catching, looking just like that striking, gorgeous older sister from the tea shop.

Her brother had just given that tea shop a gift she hadn’t even known about.

Zhou Zheng, startled by Zhou Xue’s movement, dropped his phone with a “smack” onto the floor of the car.

“Bro, who is this?”

“A friend.” Zhou Zheng’s tone was flat as he bent down to pick up the phone.

“What kind of friend, let me see…” Zhou Xue’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Just an ordinary friend, that’s all.”

“I don’t believe you!” She reached to snatch Zhou Zheng’s phone, acting coy. “Bro, come on, let me see.”

With strangers still in the car, Zhou Zheng anxiously shielded his phone, twisting away from her grip, brows furrowing tightly. “Stop it.”

His grip slipped in strength, his tone taking on a slightly sharper edge. “Buckle your seatbelt and sit properly.”

Zhou Xue’s shoulder ached from the movement; she frowned and drew a sharp breath, letting go, her expression shifting, feeling less than pleased inside. She obediently retreated to her own seat.

She was six years younger than Zhou Zheng, essentially having grown up trailing behind him; the two siblings had always had a good relationship. When Zhou Zheng’s parents passed away, he had held her and cried, and it was she who had wiped her brother’s tears and comforted him like a little adult.

Later, after Zhou Zheng graduated from college and returned to teach at Beiquan High School, she happened to be starting high school around the same time, and for those years he’d looked after her meticulously, showing her every consideration.

Toward this cousin-turned-brother figure, she held both respect and admiration, valuing him even more than her own younger brother, and felt that she and Zhou Zheng had the kind of close relationship where they could talk about anything.

Yet just now, over a single photo, Zhou Zheng had pinched her and snapped at her.

The two of them got off at the village entrance. Seeing Zhou Xue’s sullen face, Zhou Zheng realized his earlier action had been a bit rough. “Did I hurt you just now? Sorry, Xiao Xue, big brother didn’t mean it.”

“So it turns out Brother Zheng likes that kind of pretty, tacky girl too — makeup so heavy, dressed so flirtatiously, doesn’t look like a good person at all,” Zhou Xue said, lips pursed, tone dismissive.

“She has a boyfriend, and they were so lovey-dovey on the phone, cooing and cuddling, practically wanting to leap out of the phone and hug each other — how could she even look twice at some third wheel.”

Having vented her grievances in one breath, she stormed off, breaking into a run toward home.

Zhou Zheng watched his cousin run off, his brows tightening slightly, then rubbed his temples and let out a long sigh.

He gathered up the luggage and backpack Zhou Xue had left behind and carried them to their second uncle’s house.

With the seniors about to return to school, teachers went in a week early, and the school organized a grade-wide meeting to arrange the return-to-school work and teaching plans.

Zhou Zheng was staying on with the senior class again this year, with an even heavier teaching load than last year — assigned to a key science class and a repeat-year liberal arts class, serving as homeroom teacher for the science class as well as head of the math lesson-planning group and the grade’s moral education group.

High school teachers were exhausted, homeroom teachers even more so, especially for seniors — homeroom teachers had to be at school by seven every morning to manage the morning study session, do dorm checks at eleven at night, patrol classes and dorms at any time, on top of a pile of administrative paperwork, all while also managing students’ psychological issues, puppy love, and safety concerns. The homeroom teacher stipend was only 700 yuan a month.

A young, unmarried male teacher like Zhou Zheng was exactly the kind of target the school worked to the bone.

During a break, teachers stood chatting: “This school spirit and discipline campaign the school’s running this year, patrolling and monitoring all day long — they’re going to work us to death.”

A male teacher in the next seat patted Zhou Zheng on the shoulder: “I heard through the grapevine from the administration that this year’s provincial backbone teacher evaluation slot is almost certainly going to you. Not bad, Teacher Zhou.”

“Not really,” Zhou Zheng said modestly. “Teacher She has been an outstanding teacher for so many years — I should still be learning from you.”

Beiquan High School’s reputation had grown considerably in recent years; as the school expanded, the number of teachers kept growing, but the number of titles stayed the same — too many people, too few positions, everyone scrambling to compete for just a handful of honors.

A teacher chimed in: “Last year, Teacher Zhou’s class had the best scores in the whole school — good results, and the school values him, and he was personally brought up by Vice Principal Ding. He’s got it better than the rest of us — naturally he’s got the inside track.”

Zhou Zheng had once been a student in Ding Yan’s class; later, after Ding Yan became vice principal, he’d used a “talent recruitment” quota to specially bring Zhou Zheng into Beiquan High School. In the past two years the school had also supported Zhou Zheng in completing an in-service graduate degree in education; after graduating, he was promoted directly to first-rank teacher, then received “Young Teacher” and “Outstanding Teacher” honors — this year’s backbone teacher spot would probably be his too, and privately, teachers often said he was Principal Ding’s “inner circle.”

Zhou Zheng kept a mild, amiable smile on his face, but his eyes were solemn, his tone flat: “Vice Principal Ding handles teaching, not administration. It’s appropriate for me to consult him about teaching matters, but doing anything else would be overstepping.”

The colleague, hearing that his tone wasn’t as gentle as usual, laughed it off awkwardly and changed the subject.

At noon, right at the cafeteria entrance, he happened to run into his mentor and called out: “Vice Principal Ding.”

“Zhou Zheng, come, come, come up and eat with me.” Ding Yan had just gotten back from a trip abroad, all smiles, gesturing broadly. “Your teacher’s wife and I lugged back this huge Spanish ham — come over for dinner this weekend, let your teacher’s wife stew you a pot of preserved-fresh soup to try.”

Just hearing his mentor’s wife’s name gave Zhou Zheng a headache. “Students are coming back next week, so we’ve got to prep for group lesson planning this week… I’ll try to find time to go see her when I can.”

That reminded Ding Yan of school matters, and he asked, “This year’s college entrance exam results were only so-so — we only got one city top scorer between science and liberal arts. I heard Principal Liu ran your meeting this morning — did he pound the table and lecture you all again?”

Zhou Zheng rubbed his nose.

“What classes did you get assigned this semester?”

Zhou Zheng listed out his teaching assignments, unable to stop himself from rubbing at his throat, which had begun to ache faintly.

“All large classes, huh, not easy — but your teaching style leans toward building frameworks and concepts, which suits students in those kinds of classes pretty well,” Ding Yan said, patting his shoulder. “Young people need to get through a lot of trials. Back in my day, every teacher taught over twenty classes a week and had to run evening study sessions too — that’s how we slowly built this school up…”

“You’re right, teacher.”

Ding Yan patted his shoulder again. “So it’s settled then — come by this weekend, I’ll call your teacher’s wife and have her start preparing early.”

Zhou Zheng was stunned. “Huh?”

The school held meetings for two days straight, and everyone’s mouth was dry back in the office. The female teacher from the English department next door had the idea to order milk tea and came over to the math department to ask: “Anyone want milk tea? The grade director is treating everyone — don’t miss this chance.”

The math office was a large shared office, mostly made up of older, middle-aged, and younger male teachers with a smaller number of female teachers; next door, the English office had a habit of coffee and milk tea, while the math office’s culture leaned toward purple clay teapots and loose-leaf tea. At that moment the janitor was changing the filter on the hallway water dispenser, and several male teachers, cups in hand, waiting around, turned their heads: “Milk tea is tea too, get me one as well.”

“What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever, just get me something.”

They ordered from “Changliu Mountain,” the tea shop across from the school. It was newly opened, and some teachers who’d tried it said the flavor was good, and it looked nice too.

Half an hour later, Nana and the security guard from the gatehouse carried over forty cups of milk tea. Zhou Zheng was downstairs; seeing them, he took the bag of milk tea from Nana’s hands. “I’ll take it.”

The orders from the English office were all over the place; the ones for the math office were just two kinds of straight tea. Nana, who also knew Zhou Zheng, pointed at another bag: “This one’s the green tea and four-seasons spring for the math office — and our boss threw in a lemon black tea for free.”

There was only one cup of lemon black tea; Nana explained, “The boss made extra.”

He held the cold cup of lemon black tea, his eyes lowering slightly, throat bobbing. “Thanks.”

After school let out, Zhou Zheng passed by the tea shop, hesitated, and then walked in anyway.

Music was playing inside. Lin Shuang, across the counter, was chatting with a curly-haired, round-faced girl sitting at a round table, the two of them laughing and talking about something amusing.

“Teacher Zhou.” She seemed to be in a great mood, her whole self relaxed and cheerful, like a rose blooming full and open in a vase of water, greeting him with a bright smile. “Off work?”

Zhou Zheng nodded. Lin Shuang gestured, introducing, “This is my high school classmate, Luo Wei.”

Luo Wei had been in Lin Shuang’s class for two years, both once part of the same study group and on decent terms. After the college entrance exam, Lin Shuang had gone to Wancheng and Luo Wei to a university in the southwest; the two had lost touch during college.

After graduating, Luo Wei had come back to Beiquan to take the civil service exam and had been assigned to work at a township government office, exhausted and busy. Scrolling through a friend’s social media feed one day, she’d spotted a newly opened tea shop by her old high school and discovered the owner was Lin Shuang — that was how the two of them had reconnected, and she’d come by in her free time to see her old classmate.

“This is Zhou Zheng, a teacher at Beiquan High School, also a graduate of Beiquan High — he’s an alum, like us.”

Luo Wei, boisterous and quick to make friends, let out a “wow.” “Teacher Zhou graduated from this school and came back to teach here? That sounds interesting.”

“It’s alright.”

“What’s it like being colleagues with teachers who used to teach you? Isn’t that a lot of pressure? Or do you especially respect them? Do the students get along with you well…”

She had too many questions, and Zhou Zheng couldn’t keep up.

Lin Shuang’s lips curled up; she gestured to the seat across from Luo Wei, arching her brows to signal Zhou Zheng to sit down and chat with Luo Wei slowly, while she went back to work behind the counter.

“What subject do you teach, Teacher Zhou?”

“Math.”

“What grade this year?”

“Senior year.”

“Wow, impressive — are you a homeroom teacher?”

“Yes.”

Luo Wei had always been like this since her school days — very well-liked, saying “wow,” “no way,” “so amazing” for everything in conversation, matching people’s energy at 100%.

She exclaimed in surprise, “So Teacher Zhou is from the same graduating year as us — what a coincidence.”

“Lin Shuang and I were both liberal arts students. Teacher Zhou teaches math — are you a science student?”

“Yes.”

“No wonder we don’t know each other — still, what a small world, running into each other so many years after graduation.”

Lin Shuang, finishing her tasks, brought over two cups of tea. Luo Wei and Zhou Zheng had already gone through one round of conversation and started a new topic.

“Which university did Teacher Zhou graduate from?”

“I went to college in Linjiang, at Linjiang Normal University.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.” Luo Wei’s tone was exaggerated, and she even clapped. “Teacher Zhou must have had incredible grades in high school — that school is fantastic, one of the best teacher-training universities in the whole country.”

“It’s alright, I guess…” Zhou Zheng, overwhelmed by Luo Wei’s praise, rubbed his nose and wanted to leave.

“The year we took the college entrance exam, there was a single-subject top scorer — perfect score in math — and he went to Linjiang Normal University,” Luo Wei recalled. “I remember his name was easy to remember, um… it was also… surnamed Zhou, I think…”

Her eyes went wide, and she suddenly jumped up, shrieking: “Oh my god! Don’t tell me that’s you! That top scorer, the one with a perfect math score, that genius!!”

Zhou Zheng thought that even the year the village had put up a banner for the top scorer at the village entrance and set off firecrackers in front of his house hadn’t been as embarrassing as this moment.

Every year after the college entrance exam results came out, the bulletin board at the gate of Beiquan High School would post the rankings — the school’s exam results, admission rates and undergraduate acceptance rates, the top scorers in liberal arts and science, students admitted to prestigious schools through competitions, and the top scorers by subject — red characters on black, standard block script, showcasing the school’s prestige.

In the best years, the school would even arrange a parade float, driving these star students around downtown, openly encouraging the whole city’s students to strive harder.

Zhou Zheng, helplessly: “That’s me…”

“You actually came back to teach math.” Luo Wei’s eyes sparkled. “Teacher Zhou, did you come back to give back to your juniors?”

Zhou Zheng, tongue-tied by the question, stood up wanting to make his excuses and leave.

“Lin Shuang, Lin Shuang.” Luo Wei called out to her. “Teacher Zhou was our year’s math top scorer, you know.”

“Heard you.” Lin Shuang, her back turned, was washing cups at the sink, letting out a soft “tsk” — that year, her math score had only been in the 70s.

But then, her grades had never been good; managing to get into college at all had been cause for celebration.

After the exam ended, she’d been completely free, going traveling with her then-boyfriend, happily enjoying herself for months. Even her college application had been filled out online by her father.

Zhou Zheng found an excuse and got up to leave. Luo Wei, not quite satisfied, boldly asked him, “Teacher Zhou, could I add you on WeChat? So it’s easier to reach you if I need anything.”

He froze for a second, then pulled out his phone. “Of course.”

The two of them exchanged contact information right in front of Lin Shuang.

Once Zhou Zheng left, Luo Wei made her own farewells too, waving at Lin Shuang. “Let’s hang out again sometime.”

Lin Shuang smiled. “Sure, be safe on the way.”

At eleven-thirty that night, right before bed, Lin Shuang received two WeChat messages.

One was from Mr. Polo Shirt: [Shuangshuang, are you asleep?]

She didn’t even glance at it, ignoring it outright.

The other was from Luo Wei.

[Lin Shuang, do you know if Teacher Zhou has a girlfriend?]

Along with a shy, face-covering emoji.

Lin Shuang replied: [Not sure, want me to ask for you?]

Ten minutes later, Luo Wei replied with a smiley face.

[Hehe, no need. I just asked him myself. He said no.]