When the time came, Chen Qiao put on his duty sash and went with Wu Xinyu to check the cleanliness of the teachers’ office building.
The two walked in silence, the atmosphere between them noticeably tense.
Chen Qiao had no idea what had happened between yesterday afternoon and this morning to cause such a change in Wu Xinyu’s attitude, but he was determined to maintain his mystery.
He wouldn’t take the initiative to ask—otherwise, he’d lose the upper hand.
He wanted to find out on his own… or wait until she brought it up herself.
The offices were spotless—another day with no disciplinary “achievements.”
Afterward, Chen Qiao finished his homework first before working on his novel.
For the essay assignment, he wrote only the beginning and ending, sketching out the middle in his head.
It was a brief exercise to sharpen his ability to write 600-word narratives.
Six hundred words was the exact required length—no more, no less.
The last self-study class of the day was spent tutoring Lin Na in math.
Chen Qiao would write problems for her to solve.
If she got one right, he’d have her explain her solution, to see whether it was just a lucky guess or genuine understanding.
For the ones she couldn’t solve, Chen Qiao would patiently explain them—something that didn’t take too much time and even helped reinforce his own fundamentals.
After all, he could only use elementary-level knowledge when helping, nothing beyond the curriculum.
“Have you memorized all the English vocabulary? There’s a quiz tomorrow,” Chen Qiao reminded her kindly—he was now the English class representative.
“I’ll memorize them tomorrow morning. I’ll just copy them a few more times. I’m slow, so I need to write while memorizing to remember.”
As the saying goes, “a dull pencil is better than a good memory.”
Lin Na had a good attitude when it came to studying.
She did everything she was supposed to—never slacked off.
She just lacked the right methods, which made her efforts less efficient.
After school, Chen Qiao headed to the office to find the English teacher, Wang Yilin.
She was sitting at her desk, bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun shining through the window.
Her cheeks were flushed red, the sunlight tinting the white wall behind her with a warm hue.
The distant sky was a soft orange.
Wang Yilin had a pen in one hand, the other tangled in her messy hair.
She tore a page from her notebook, crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash—she was working on a lesson plan.
She had already finished preparing the entire semester’s curriculum, but she wanted to show Chen Qiao what it meant to be truly capable—that there were always people more talented than you, and his current English level was nothing impressive.
Still, these difficult lessons were impossible to actually teach.
80–90% of the class wouldn’t understand them anyway.
Only top students like Chen Qiao and Wu Xinyu might follow, and besides, the content wouldn’t even be tested in the graduation exams.
So it was pointless.
Chen Qiao observed as Wang Yilin alternated between sighing in frustration and resting her chin in her hands to gaze out the window in a daze.
“Miss Wang?” he called out.
“Huh? Chen Qiao? Is school over already?” she asked in surprise.
“Yeah, the school’s already playing the dismissal music over the PA system,” he said, tugging on his earlobe.
“Sorry, I was deep in thought. Let’s go… ah!”
Wang Yilin shot up in a fluster—but banged her knee against the underside of the desk, grimacing in pain as she hugged her leg and sat back down.
Why did she always end up embarrassing herself in front of her students?
“Are you okay, Miss Wang?” Chen Qiao asked with concern.
He hadn’t meant to startle her at all.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her knee. “Grab the tape recorder and come with me to my dorm.”
She was still limping slightly from the pain, her walk visibly off.
“Okay.”
Chen Qiao picked up the tape recorder and followed her.
They crossed the sports field, went through a tunnel, and arrived at the dormitory buildings—two newer blocks that looked fairly lightweight in construction.
The two buildings were connected in the middle by welded iron sheets and panels.
The left building was the student dormitory.
The first floor served as a self-study hall for boarders in the evening.
The right building housed the teachers.
It had two layouts: apartments for single teachers, and small suites for married staff like homeroom teacher Yang Fang.
Yang Fang and her husband were both teachers at the school, so they were promptly allocated a suite.
Most teachers didn’t live on campus—they either lived locally and went home, or had purchased homes in the nearby county and commuted by taxi.
This was common even in the middle school division, where some teachers carpooled.
The dormitories mainly served for midday naps or for overnight duty.
Before these dorms were built, students used to sleep in empty classrooms, and teachers used offices as both work and living spaces.
Wang Yilin lived in a single-teacher apartment.
She unlocked the door—it was small and plainly furnished.
There were no actual home-style furnishings—just school desks.
Her “desk” was a broken old wooden table with a collapsed drawer.
On the wall above it were pinned things like a class schedule and music sheets.
The bed was a basic student-style metal bunk bed.
She slept on the bottom bunk.
Her quilt was crumpled like a caterpillar cocoon, her pajamas and underwear scattered across the bed.
A pair of upturned slippers sat on the floor—clearly thrown off casually.
A faded wooden chair held a washbasin, and a small mirror hung on the wall beside a red bucket.
On the balcony, a thick discarded power cord had been strung up as a makeshift clothesline, where her white blouse, jeans, and underwear were hanging.
“KO 13 kg…”Wang Yilin let out another weird sound.
She had forgotten all about bringing Chen Qiao to her dorm after school, and clearly hadn’t tidied up after her nap—it was a total mess.
She rushed to clean the bed, folding the clothes and making the blanket into a perfect military square—something she hadn’t done since college military training.
“Miss Wang, be careful not to bang your leg again,” Chen Qiao reminded her.
“Chen Qiao, stop treating your teacher like an idiot,” she snapped, giving him a glare.
This kid really had no respect—he wrote novels during her class and now spoke to her like this?
She had to show him that adults deserved respect.
Chen Qiao placed the tape recorder on the wobbly desk, which also had a neatly lined-up row of cassette tapes, an in-ear headset, and an over-ear headphone set.
There were music tapes and also educational ones for class use.
One tape even had a soundtrack from a fantasy drama—though it was unclear if it was official or pirated.
Just like CDs, many tapes were pirated copies.
Chen Qiao took one out, inserted it into the recorder, and hit play.
As the tape spun and familiar melodies filled the room, a wave of nostalgia washed over him.
Even though MP3 players had been common for years—and many students used them to read novels or listen to music—cassette players were still widely used in classrooms for English listening practice, a habit teachers couldn’t shake.
Chen Qiao’s family had a portable cassette player, which his sister used for studying English.
Many of their tapes had been bought by his father, who had a tape deck in his dump truck.
“Chen Qiao, don’t mess with my stuff. This is for class use only. Don’t use it to listen to music,” Wang Yilin said sternly.
“But, teacher, weren’t you just listening to music on it too? Isn’t that public equipment for private use?”
“I’m a teacher. I’m not going to break the recorder, and even if I did, I could afford to replace it,” Wang Yilin said righteously, tilting her chin upward with a proud smile.
This was the confidence of an adult.
“Does the teacher really like listening to music?”
“What kind of question is that? I’m the music teacher, after all.”
The school’s dismissal bell had already gone silent.
Wang Yilin sat at the edge of the bed, quietly enjoying the music with her eyes closed.
This was the most peaceful moment of her day.
When the track ended, Chen Qiao promptly pressed the pause button.
If he didn’t, she might keep listening all evening.
“Miss Wang, do I need to bring the recorder back to the office tomorrow morning before class?”
“No… no need. I’ll bring it myself. Thank you for your help today.”
There weren’t any English or music classes scheduled for the first period tomorrow, and Wang Yilin wasn’t a homeroom teacher, so it was common for her to sleep in until 8 or 9 a.m.—sometimes even after the students finished morning exercises.
Breakfast was usually just some bread and milk.
She knew full well she didn’t really act like a proper teacher.
Still, compared to her college peers, her internship at Baiyun Elementary was considered above average.
Not like those who were sent to remote western regions or more rural middle schools.
She’d landed at the right place at the right time.
The teacher dorms even had private toilets.
Sure, there was no hot water, but she could just boil a bucket when she needed it.
“I’ll keep your secret about listening to music on the recorder, so I hope you’ll also keep my novel writing a secret. That makes us accomplices.”
A shared secret was always a good way to bring people closer.
Too bad Wang Yilin’s dorm didn’t have a computer, or Chen Qiao would’ve asked to borrow it to play.
“You’re bargaining with your teacher now?”
Wang Yilin said with a helpless laugh, pinching his cheek.
She had thought Chen Qiao was one of those smart, precocious kids—mature in writing and shrewd in behavior.
But in the end, he was just a child.
“Alright, I’ll agree. But on one condition—you need to do a good job as my class rep and score well on exams. Otherwise, I’ll have to tell Miss Yang. Of course, if you study well, I’ll give you a reward.”
“A reward? Really?”
Chen Qiao’s eyes sparkled instantly.
He suddenly recalled a spicy rumor from an online forum.
He sneaked a glance at Wang Yilin’s chest—not big, but still…“Of course it’s real. Teachers don’t lie,” she said.
Wang Yilin noticed the change in his expression and crossed her arms, looking as if she had everything under control.
“What kind of reward do you want? It can’t be expensive. I’m not rich. Snacks? Toys? Burgers?”
She listed the typical favorites of young boys.
The nearest burger place was only in the county town.
Chen Qiao shook his head.
If he said he wanted to see those, she’d probably slap him.
Can’t rush things.
He had to wait until their relationship developed more and he entered puberty.
Then, with some curiosity and innocent yearning, he could bring up “shady” requests.
“No study, no… thunder.”
“How about books then? The Four Great Classical Novels?”
Books were a bit pricey, and she couldn’t exactly gift a pirated set.
That money could buy several tapes instead.
“I’ve already read them.”
“Even Dream of the Red Chamber?”
Wang Yilin’s voice rose in surprise.
It was normal for a child who could write novels to be well-read, but Dream of the Red Chamber?
“Yeah, but there were a lot of parts I didn’t understand. Like, what does ‘initial taste of the feelings of mist and water’ even mean? But Granny Liu was really funny.”
He tapped his chin and tilted his head, feigning a confused innocence.
“Ahem… You’ll understand once you’re older, maybe in high school. I’m not a Chinese teacher, so I don’t really know either.”
“Then I’ll ask the homeroom teacher!”
That startled Wang Yilin.
“No way! Only high school Chinese teachers understand that stuff. Miss Yang is very proud—if she doesn’t know the answer, she might get mad and give you loads of homework to vent her frustration. Better make sure you’ve mastered your elementary content first before aiming so high.”
“True.”
Chen Qiao only dared to tease this inexperienced young intern.
If he said something like this to another teacher, he’d probably get slapped, have his parents called in, and lose his “model student” image on the spot.
Seeing him back off, Wang Yilin sighed in relief.
“Where were we? Right, the reward. Aside from what I listed, isn’t there anything else you want?”
“I want a hug from teacher.”
“Eh?”
Wang Yilin looked shocked.
That reward was clearly on a different level.
“Ever since I was little, I’ve always wanted to be hugged by an older, gentle big sister. You seem young, pretty, gentle, and very caring.”
The key was: “older.” His actual sister was only two years older.
Even if this was exposed later, he still had wiggle room to deny.
“Is that so…”Wang Yilin awkwardly tucked her hair behind her ear, her ears turning red.
She was flustered from the praise.
She hadn’t known she had so many “virtues.”
As a teacher, she didn’t really think she had anything admirable—she wasn’t particularly hardworking, and was basically just coasting.
She didn’t wear makeup, didn’t wear cute clothes.
Sometimes when she looked in the mirror, she even disliked herself a little.
“If I’m that great, then why do you still write novels during my class?” she asked with a pout.
“It’s because I wanted to get your attention. I knew you wouldn’t react like the others—just tearing my paper without letting me explain.”
Chen Qiao continued to shower her with compliments, though the truth was, it had all been a bit accidental.
“Such a young kid, not focusing on studying—learning all the wrong things.”
Wang Yilin gave him a karate-chop to the head.
She had been a student once, so she understood those silly, immature tactics boys used to attract girls.
Coming from a naive elementary schooler, it didn’t feel annoying—it was actually kind of sweet and innocent.
“It’s getting late. You should head home now or your parents might worry. As for your reward, if you do really well on the exams, I’ll consider it. And not just English—you have to do well in Chinese and Math too.”
She pressed both hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him out the door, walking him downstairs.
She couldn’t give in too easily.
Better to leave a vague possibility, with a raised bar.
If Chen Qiao could really achieve it, then Wang Yilin didn’t mind fulfilling the reward—a hug wasn’t anything inappropriate, considering their age gap.
She was 8 or 9 years older, and Chen Qiao had always left a good impression.
Even his novel writing couldn’t be considered a fault—if anything, it was a talent.
Plus, Chen Qiao was short and looked younger than his age.
He didn’t seem like a sixth grader.
If it were one of those tall 14-year-old boys who started school late, just entering her dorm would be unthinkable—let alone asking for a hug.
This was the natural advantage of looking like an innocent little shota.
“I’ll do my best!”
Originally, Chen Qiao had to score high just so his mom would have another child.
Now with a bonus reward on the line, his motivation skyrocketed.
“Teacher’s looking forward to your performance. Be safe on your way home,” Wang Yilin said with a smile.
On his way home, Chen Qiao spotted Xinyu watching TV at the barber shop.
Despite her protests, he bought five lollipops to bring home—one for himself, one for his sister and Xinyu each, and two extras he kept on him to bribe the little loli later.
After washing the rice, prepping the vegetables, and waiting for his sister to come home and cook, Chen Qiao went for a jog around the neighborhood.
When he got tired, he slid his hands under Xinyu’s armpits and…(To be continued…)He lifted her high into the air — not only did it count as physical exercise, but it also made Xinyu giggle with joy.
Truly, a perfect example of killing two birds with one stone.