Recovering something you love should, by all rights, be a joyful thing.

But Zhu Wenshu’s mood was complicated.

She’d glance at her phone, then at the bracelet, thinking about why she’d been in such a hurry to brush him off last night — it wasn’t as if she couldn’t spare a few more messages sparring with him.

Now she felt like a monkey who’d just put on a whole show in front of Ling Chen.

If she’d simply played dumb, that would be one thing.

But he’d genuinely helped her out, and not thanking him properly just wouldn’t do.

Sigh.

Right as she was fretting over this, Zhu Qisen wandered into the office at some point, greeting each of the middle-aged female teachers in turn, making them all laugh, before finally turning and sauntering over to lean against Zhu Wenshu’s desk. “So how’d that thing I asked about a few days ago go?”

Zhu Wenshu looked up. “What thing?”

“Knew you’d forgotten!”

Zhu Qisen bent down, waggling his eyebrows. “The Ling Chen concert tickets thing! Did you ask your fangirl roommate?”

“…”

Why was it Ling Chen again.

Zhu Wenshu pursed her lips. “I’ll ask right now, but my roommate’s schedule is all over the place, she might not be up yet…”

Right at that moment, Zhu Wenshu picked up her phone and found Ying Fei had sent her a message about the property fee for the month, along with an itemized list.

“Oh, she’s up.” Zhu Wenshu said. “Actually, more like she hasn’t slept yet.”

[Zhu Wenshu]: Hey, quick question.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Do you know any other way to get tickets to Ling Chen’s concert? Can’t get any through official channels at all.

[Ying Fei]: His Christmas concert?

Zhu Wenshu turned to ask Zhu Qisen, “Christmas concert?”

“Huh?” Zhu Qisen scratched his head. “Christmas? Oh whatever, doesn’t matter which concert, as long as it’s Ling Chen’s.”

[Zhu Wenshu]: Doesn’t matter which concert, as long as it’s Ling Chen’s.

[Ying Fei]: ?

[Ying Fei]: Are you a fan of his?

[Zhu Wenshu]: No, asking for a friend.

[Ying Fei]: Oh.

[Ying Fei]: Scared me for a second.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Why?

[Ying Fei]: Nothing.

A moment later, Ying Fei sent a voice message.

“His fans have reflexes like a dog, honestly. Can’t get tickets, oh well, nothing special about it anyway.”

Zhu Wenshu had it on speaker, and Zhu Qisen, standing behind her, heard it too. He asked, “Ask her if she knows any reliable scalpers?”

Zhu Wenshu relayed the question, and Ying Fei replied, “There are some, but they don’t sell Ling Chen’s tickets.”

[Zhu Wenshu]: Why not?

[Zhu Wenshu]: Is it only fans who buy them?

[Ying Fei]: …

[Ying Fei]: I wish that were the case.

[Ying Fei]: His side cracks down hard on scalpers. Haven’t seen anyone manage to get his tickets that way.

Having gotten her answer, Zhu Wenshu pulled up her chat with Ying Fei and showed it directly to Zhu Qisen.

“Ugh…” he muttered. “This is tricky. His concert tickets are this hot, where am I supposed to find them.”

Watching Zhu Qisen’s troubled expression, Zhu Wenshu really wanted to tell him to just have his music teacher stop being obsessed with Ling Chen — no need to make Ling Siyuan an online stepmother.

But she held back.

“Maybe I’ll just give her his vinyl record instead.” Zhu Qisen suddenly said. “Xue’er mentioned it before.”

Zhu Wenshu said absentmindedly, “Suit yourself.”

Zhu Qisen lingered there for a while longer before finally leaving when the bell rang for the end of class.

The sound of children playing happily drifted in from outside — Zhu Wenshu’s favorite sound.

But this atmosphere failed to pull Zhu Wenshu out of her tangled mood; if anything, it made her even more uneasy.

Right — here was Ling Chen, so in-demand, so famous, and he’d even helped her find her bracelet, and she couldn’t even bring herself to say thank you properly. How was that setting a good example, being a model teacher?!

With that thought, Zhu Wenshu resolutely sent Ling Chen a message.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Got the bracelet, thank you so much!

He didn’t reply for a long while.

Zhu Wenshu went and taught a class, then took the kids out for their exercise break.

On the way back to the office, she finally got a response from Ling Chen.

[c]: Mm.

[c]: Good that you got it.

A weight lifted off her chest.

See, she really had been overthinking it before. This wasn’t such a big deal — they were both adults, was Ling Chen really going to deliberately poke at that awkwardness?

Zhu Wenshu put down her phone and, at ease, put her beloved bracelet back on.

The next second, her phone buzzed again.

[c]: But Teacher Zhu, take a closer look.

[Zhu Wenshu]: ?

[c]: This one and the one you “found” yesterday

[c]: which one is actually yours?

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

It wasn’t that Zhu Wenshu liked lecturing people, but right now she really wanted to teach Ling Chen the art of conversation, how to properly end a chat.

But clearly she had no standing to change Ling Chen, so she decided to change herself instead — simply ignore what he’d said and shift the topic entirely.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Really, thank you so much. I wouldn’t have known what to do otherwise.

[Zhu Wenshu]: You have no idea how important this bracelet is to me.

[c]: And that’s it, just a thank-you?

Zhu Wenshu almost reflexively sent him a cash gift.

But he didn’t even open it.

[c]: Teacher Zhu, you can do this kind of thing once I’m past my prime.

The implication being: he wasn’t short on money right now.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Fair enough.

[Zhu Wenshu]: How about I treat you to a meal, then?

The moment she sent it, Zhu Wenshu started regretting it.

He wasn’t short on money — would he really be short on food either?

She immediately hit recall.

But before she could think of what to say instead, Ling Chen’s next message had already come in.

[c]: No need to regret it that fast, Teacher Zhu.

[c]: A meal with me won’t be that expensive.

“…”

Was he using reverse psychology on her now?

Zhu Wenshu felt like she absolutely had to treat him to this meal now.

But compared to sending a cash gift, treating Ling Chen to dinner was definitely trickier.

Too casual a place, and he might look down on it; too fancy, and she couldn’t afford it. She also had to consider privacy, to make sure they wouldn’t be spotted.

She opened an app and, after a long search, settled on a private restaurant halfway up a mountain, and sent it to Ling Chen.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Is this place okay? No open seating, all private rooms, should be pretty discreet.

She waited a bit more.

[c]: Fine, I guess.

Sounded a bit reluctant.

[Zhu Wenshu]: So when are you free?

Zhu Wenshu typed while flipping through her class schedule.

[Zhu Wenshu]: This weekend?

[c]: Busy.

[Zhu Wenshu]: Next weekend, then?

[c]: Also busy.

[Zhu Wenshu]: The weekend after that?

[c]: Very busy.

Zhu Wenshu: “…”

Might as well suggest ten years from now.

She pressed her lips together and asked patiently.

[Zhu Wenshu]: So when are you free, then?

[c]: Tonight

—

Mondays after a holiday were always especially busy. Zhu Wenshu had originally planned to stay after school to grade the holiday homework.

But with Ling Chen’s plan, she could only take the homework home to grade later.

Thinking a bag of homework wasn’t very convenient to bring to a restaurant, Zhu Wenshu went home first after school.

After putting her things down, Zhu Wenshu went to the bathroom to wash her hands.

Looking up, she caught sight of her own reflection in the mirror, and a thought suddenly struck her.

However you looked at it, this was still dinner with Ling Chen — showing up completely bare-faced, wouldn’t that make her look like some celebrity’s little errand-runner?

That wouldn’t do.

Zhu Wenshu checked her watch — she still had plenty of time — and sat down at her vanity.

Calling it “makeup” was generous; her supplies amounted to one bottle of foundation, one eyebrow pencil, and four or five lipsticks.

And since her skin was already fair and smooth, nearly flawless, after applying foundation a few times she’d found it made no difference at all, so she’d stopped bothering, letting the foundation gather dust on the edge of her table.

Opening it today, she found the liquid had already dried up inside the bottle.

So although Zhu Wenshu had been determined to do an elaborate makeup look for the date, in the end she only applied a bit of lipstick, not even touching the eyebrow pencil.

Standing up, she looked down and saw she was wearing a white shirt and black trousers today.

A bit too severe, honestly, almost like a uniform.

But it seemed unnecessary to go to great lengths over her outfit, so she opened her closet and pulled out a light blue denim skirt to change into instead.

Once everything was ready, Zhu Wenshu stood in front of the full-length mirror, examining herself, and felt she looked pretty good — lively, yet still dignified, with no visible trace of having deliberately dressed up.

Ah, she looked good.

Zhu Wenshu wanted to admire herself in the mirror a bit longer, but her phone suddenly rang.

She hurried to answer it, and Zhu Qisen’s impatient voice came through.

“You ready yet? If I’m any later I’m getting a parking ticket!”

The restaurant they’d agreed on was halfway up a mountain, inconvenient to reach by transit. Zhu Wenshu had originally planned to take a taxi herself.

But at lunch she’d run into Zhu Qisen in the cafeteria, and since he wanted her to come along to help pick out a gift, he’d volunteered to be her driver.

Who would’ve thought the driver had no sense of being a driver and had started rushing her before she was even ready.

Zhu Wenshu hurried downstairs and glared at him as she got in the car.

“Would you dare rush your music teacher like this?”

“How is that the same?”

Zhu Qisen said, “She’s—”

Before he finished, backing the car up, Zhu Qisen turned to look at Zhu Wenshu, and his expression suddenly turned teasing.

“Oh-ho, aren’t you just having dinner with a high school classmate? Guess this classmate isn’t so ordinary, huh.”

“Really? I didn’t even do my eyebrows.” Zhu Wenshu flipped down the sun visor to check her makeup in the small mirror. “I look about the same as usual to me.”

Zhu Qisen grinned slyly. “Mainly it’s just that you never wear makeup normally, and today all of a sudden — white shirt, little skirt, high ponytail — it’s just really that—”

Zhu Wenshu: “Really what?”

“Just…” Zhu Qisen rubbed his chin. “It suddenly reminded me of my high school first love.”

Zhu Wenshu nodded. “Well, your high school first love must’ve had good taste, then.”

“…”

—

Zhu Qisen’s destination was clear — first, the jewelry store to buy a gift. With Zhu Wenshu there, it didn’t take much time; he just had to pay.

Next was dropping Zhu Wenshu off for her dinner date.

Passing by the Jiangcheng Concert Hall, he spotted a large audio-visual store open nearby, and after a moment’s thought, floored the gas pedal toward it.

“Hey!” Zhu Wenshu said in alarm. “I told my friend seven o’clock!”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.” Zhu Qisen showed no sign of easing off the gas. “We’re passing by anyway, might as well buy it now.”

With no hands on the wheel, Zhu Wenshu had no way to refuse.

Some musician must have been holding a concert there that night, and the audio-visual store was fairly crowded. Zhu Qisen headed straight for the pop music section, grabbed a vinyl copy of Classmate Little Silkworm, then went to line up at the register.

Zhu Wenshu had originally waited by the door, but seeing the long line, she went in to hurry Zhu Qisen along.

The moment she stepped in, she saw Ling Chen’s Classmate Little Silkworm displayed right in the center of the showcase.

For an album that had come out so many years ago to still be a store’s featured recommendation showed just how well it had sold.

Below the display, the audio-visual store had its own promotional tagline.

“Every boy has a Classmate Little Silkworm hidden in his heart.”

Zhu Wenshu chuckled softly — quite the literary touch.

Outside the glass window, the setting sun shifted slowly, casting its glow over Zhu Wenshu.

She picked up the album, and the golden dusk light lent both the CD and her a hazy, nostalgic quality.

On the cover, a sun-drenched tree-lined path brimmed with life; a group of students walked forward, the camera slightly out of focus.

In the middle, a girl in a white shirt and blue skirt, hugging her books, ran along with the crowd, her ponytail streaming in the wind.

Of the whole scene, only her figure, seen from behind, was in clear focus.

Zhu Wenshu wasn’t the type to chase celebrities, and she shopped very rationally.

But right now, she felt a surge of impulse-buy urges.

Just then, Zhu Qisen had reached near the front of the line, so Zhu Wenshu handed the CD to him.

“Buy me one too, I’ll transfer you the money later.”

“You’re buying one too, huh.”

Zhu Qisen was just making conversation, without any real intent to press further. “Do you want the vinyl one instead? Xue’er said the sound quality’s better.”

“Vinyl?”

Zhu Wenshu picked it up to look — the packaging did seem much fancier than the regular CD. “How much is this one?”

Zhu Qisen: “Seven hundred fifty.”

“Never mind.”

Zhu Wenshu immediately put the vinyl record down and took the regular CD back. “No need to spend that much on him.”