Chapter 123: Ah, the Charm of the English Teacher (Subscription Requested!)

In Gansu, Li Heng wrote four chapters: The Taoist Tower, Mogao Caves, Sunlight and Snow, and the Hidden Spring Beneath the Sands.

When the group of five returned from the small county of Dunhuang to Lancheng, Zhao Jing had already begun packing and was planning to move.

Seeing her mother’s countless bags and parcels, Li Ran couldn’t help complaining to Li Heng: “She reminds me of an idiom—longing to return home like an arrow.”

My father devoted twenty years of his heart to her, yet it all turned to mist, unable to match her one-sided infatuation with your father.”

Li Heng chuckled: “She’s your own mother—is it fair to say that? Judge by deeds, not intentions; if you judge by intentions, no one is perfect. Over these twenty years, Aunt Zhao never did anything outrageous—she saw it through to the end.”

Li Ran fell silent for a long while, then stood up and said: “That’s true. I’m not blaming her—I’m just awed by the power of love.”

Hearing they were heading to Shudou and Dujiangyan, Zhao Jing quickly secured letters of introduction through connections and then treated everyone to a farewell dinner at a well-known restaurant in Lancheng.

Before they left, Zhao Jing specifically read Li Heng’s four newly written chapters.

After finishing, she fell into thought, then finally sighed: “Well written! No wonder you’re a writer—every word radiates beauty. Run’e raised a fine son.”

She glanced at Li Heng, then glanced again at her own daughter outside the window, and for a moment, a strong urge to pair them off surged within her—but she held it back.

She understood that Li Heng might not even notice her daughter.

Zhao Jing asked: “How many more chapters do you plan to write?”

Li Heng said: “About thirty more.”

Zhao Jing felt hopeful: “Will they be published as a book?”

Li Heng pondered: “Hard to say—it depends on market response. If the reception is good, a standalone edition will naturally follow.”

Zhao Jing nodded: “It’ll be a hit. Even I want to keep a copy. When it’s published, remember to let me know.”

“Yeah, sure—if that day ever comes, I’ll personally deliver you a copy,” Li Heng replied sincerely. He’d already accepted too much from her; this was nothing.

Zhao Jing extended her hand: “I’ve packed almost everything else. The study’s still untouched—give me your list, and I’ll start boxing tomorrow.”

Li Heng had already planned exactly which books and documents he needed. He immediately pulled out five pages from his pocket, listing over 140 books and references.

Zhao Jing took them, glanced through, showed no strong reaction, then said: “I’ll ship these to you first. If you need more later, just come back to me.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Though 140 books sounded like a lot, compared to the 1,200+ volumes in her study, it was just the tip of the iceberg. Zhao Jing wondered why he didn’t ask for more.

They rested in Lancheng for a day and night.

On the third day, Li Heng, the English teacher, Zhang Zhiyong, Li Ran, and Sun Aiguo boarded a train southward, entering the county town of Guan in Shu.

Using their official introduction letter, they found lodging for the night, then spent the evening exploring the county’s many street foods.

The next morning, Li Heng rose early, eager to visit Dujiangyan.

Before arriving, he’d assumed it was merely an irrigation project with little scenic value—but standing before the Fulong Pavilion, he was stunned by the roaring torrent before him.

Even standing on coastal rocks had never made him feel water’s power so intensely. The sea was a grand, dignified gathering—too vast, too deep, a boundless expanse that made you forget it was real, tangible water you could cup in your hands. But here, the water was different: not overwhelmingly abundant, yet each stream surged with vitality, layered and overlapping, racing together in a contest of speed, roaring with life.

After returning from Dujiangyan, exhausted from a full day of travel, Li Heng washed up briefly and immediately began writing.

As usual, the moment he picked up his pen, Wang Runwen appeared beside him.

She could have read it later, but she loved watching Li Heng write word by word in real time—the emotional resonance was overwhelming, deeply satisfying.

Li Heng asked: “Teacher, Li Ran and the others went to Qingcheng Mountain overnight to catch the sunrise—why didn’t you go?”

Wang Runwen adjusted her glasses and smiled: “A bit tired. Didn’t feel like moving.”

Hearing this, Li Heng nodded, cultivated his mood, and began writing.

He wrote the chapter “Dujiangyan.”

It was lengthy; even with divine inspiration, he wrote from eight at night until past midnight.

Damn, his hands were numb—just as he rubbed his wrists to relax, he felt a pair of eyes fixed on him.

Instinctively, he turned—and met those dark eyes directly. They stared at each other, silent, the room growing still.

The window was open; faint moonlight filtered through the wooden lattice and cast a halo over her face, blending her sensuality and beauty into something irresistibly captivating.

Li Heng broke the silence: “Teacher, has anyone ever told you you’re charming?”

“Heh!” Wang Runwen let out a dry laugh.

Regaining composure, she swept her hair back with one hand, stood, opened the other closed window, then crossed her arms and leaned on the railing, gazing silently at the bright moon, motionless.

Li Heng watched her back for a moment, then refocused on his new chapter, picking up his pen to meticulously revise sentence by sentence.

Anyone who’s written books knows that revising from start to finish is often harder than writing a new one, demanding even more energy—this is why great books are said to be “polished.”

It’s like the difference between a girl and a woman: a girl is easily satisfied, but a woman—hmm—her waist might break and she still won’t be content, still cursing her husband.

When fully absorbed in one task, time flies.

Unaware, the night deepened. Just as Li Heng finished his first revision and his stomach began growling, Wang Runwen brought in two bowls of beef noodles.

Thick with red oil, each bowl topped with four or five slices of beef. Li Heng asked curiously: “Teacher, it’s this late—where did you get these?”

Wang Runwen said: “I asked the restaurant owner to make them fresh.”

Li Heng understood: “That must’ve cost a lot.”

Wang Runwen didn’t answer. Instead, she handed him a newspaper: “This came from the front desk downstairs. Congratulations—‘To Live’ has sold 937,000 copies in total.”

These days, he’d been buried in writing, cut off from the outside world.

Hearing this, he forgot about the noodles, snatched the paper, and read it carefully.

Wang Runwen didn’t disturb him. She went downstairs again, filled her kettle with water, and returned.

Li Heng read the article twice, excited: “Only a month? I never imagined it would sell this much.”

Wang Runwen smiled silently.

Li Heng looked up at her: “Teacher, the paper predicts a million copies soon—I’m going to be rich.”

Wang Runwen placed a bowl of noodles before him: “At this sales volume, you’ll earn 140,000 yuan in royalties. You’re already rich. Eat up, before it gets cold.”

“Yeah!” After so much struggle, Li Heng was starving. He happily grabbed his chopsticks and devoured the noodles.

He had a bad habit: he ate the best parts first, then the rest.

It wasn’t his fault—he’d grown up under the terrifying shadow of his second sister. Whenever there was good food—pork, say—he had to shove it into his mouth first, or it’d be snatched away.

Seeing him finish his four or five beef slices in seconds, then slurping noisily at the noodles, Wang Runwen, on impulse, used her chopsticks to transfer her own beef slices onto his bowl.

The beef landed in his bowl. Li Heng froze, a noodle hanging from his lips, turning his head to look at her.

Their eyes met. Wang Runwen calmly waved her chopsticks, coolly saying: “Eat.”

Then, as if nothing had happened, she lowered her head and ate her noodles slowly.

After she took a bite, Li Heng asked: “Teacher, should I give you back a slice?”

Wang Runwen didn’t look up: “No.”

Li Heng said: “Give me one back, or I’ll feel guilty—I won’t be able to repay you.”

Wang Runwen gave him a cold look and spat out one word: “Go.”

Her voice was quiet, but the tone left no room for argument.

Alright. Seeing her expression unchanged, Li Heng quietly exhaled in relief and turned back to his noodles.

When you’re hungry, everything tastes good—especially a bowl of spicy, flavorful beef noodles. He finished every last drop of broth, draining the bowl clean.

He looked like a starving ghost reborn.

When he finished the final sip, the English teacher reached over, took his empty bowl, and said: “It’s late. Get some rest.”

“Okay.”

Watching her carry the bowl downstairs, then disappear into her room, Li Heng returned to his own. The hot noodles had warmed him too much—he quickly showered, then threw himself onto the bed, sprawled out, mind empty, drifting slowly into sleep.

He slept soundly.

In his dream, a beauty accompanied him, entwining with him for a long time—but he never saw her face, only remembered her skin as white as milk, and a beauty mark on her lower abdomen, the size of a red bean.

Just after experiencing earthly bliss, Li Heng slowly opened his eyes, staring blankly at the white ceiling, feeling strangely hollow.

Who was the woman in his dream?

He thought back—it was someone he’d never met.

Then how the hell did she get into his dream?

Possession?

He rummaged through his memory but found nothing. He sighed, pulled off his shorts, and headed back to the shower.

Too much of a good thing isn’t good—his shorts couldn’t even hold it all, leaving his thighs covered. Damn it! He missed Chen Zijin.

If she were here, none of this trouble would’ve happened.

After showering, Li Heng picked up his shorts, inspected them, then decided to throw them out—too much, too disgusting, no way he’d wash them.

As he stepped outside and downstairs, he found the English teacher, Zhang Zhiyong, and Li Ran already up, chatting together.

Li Heng walked over and casually asked Li Ran: “Sis Li, where’s your fiancé?”

Li Ran replied: “He had something to do—he left.”

Li Heng blinked: “Left where?”

Li Ran said: “I’m heading with you to Yongzhou’s Liu Hou Shrine, then meeting Mom. He went back to Gansu—his train leaves at nine.”

Nine a.m.?

Only then did Li Heng check the time. He nearly jumped—he hadn’t noticed it was nearly eleven. No wonder he was hungry again.

At lunch, Li Heng asked Li Ran: “Which newspapers do you supply with news material?”

Li Ran replied: “Several, including China Youth Daily. Don’t worry—I travel a lot, but my pay’s far above average, more than enough.”

Li Heng wasn’t worried. Though she liked to play, she took after Aunt Zhao—brimming with talent and clever ideas. Later, she’d become famous in journalism.

Otherwise, with her plain face, how could she sleep with so many outstanding men? It was her status that attracted them.

After lunch, the four headed again to the train station, bound for Yongzhou in southern Hunan.

While the English teacher and Li Ran went to the restroom together, Li Heng grabbed Zhang Zhiyong and asked: “Did Li Ran and Sun Aimin break up?”

Zhang Zhiyong’s eyes widened. “Whoa! Heng Daye, you’re amazing! You’ve been sleeping the whole time—how did you know?”

Li Heng glanced around, then lowered his voice. “You and Li Ran are always hanging out together—have you slept with her?”

Zhang Zhiyong jumped up, cursing loudly: “Damn it! What are you talking about? I only love Chunhua Jie! Don’t make up false accusations—or I’ll fight you!”

Li Heng frowned. “Then why did you break up so fast? Isn’t it because you’ve been too close to Li Ran and neglected Sun Aimin?”

Hearing this, Zhang Zhiyong froze. “Wait… so Sun Aimin is jealous?”

“You two were practically arm-in-arm and about to sleep together—what guy could take that? You’re so clueless.”

Actually, Li Heng had long sensed something was off. Li Ran kept laughing and fooling around with the fool, yet barely spoke a word to Sun Aimin all day—of course something would happen.

Zhang Zhiyong smacked his forehead hard. “Oh my god! I’ve brought this upon myself!”

“I didn’t even realize Sun Aimin left because of me! Damn it! Should I go to Gansu and bring him back? I don’t want to take the blame.”

Li Heng sighed. “Forget it. Sun Aimin was destined for this trial—he can’t escape it. Stay away from Li Ran from now on. Don’t say I didn’t warn you: keep your distance. Think about how Uncle Li died.”

Zhang Zhiyong turned pale. “Holy shit! You’re serious?”

Li Heng patted his shoulder and said no more.

If the fool weren’t his sworn brother, he’d never speak ill of Aunt Zhao and Li Ran behind their backs—it goes against his principles.

From Guan County in Sichuan to Yongzhou in Xiangnan was over a thousand kilometers—by train, another twenty-plus hours. Luckily, they now had a fourth person, so the four of them formed a mahjong table. The trip was no longer dull; they chatted, played cards, and arrived happily.

Li Heng knew Yongzhou well. As soon as they got off the train, he led the three to a restaurant, didn’t even look at the menu, and ordered straightaway: Yongzhou Duck with Blood, Dong’an Chicken, Qiyang Rice Fish, and Stuffed Tofu—plus two green vegetables and snails in broth.

After placing the order, Wang Runwen lifted his right wrist to check his watch. "Today is the day the college entrance exam results are released—I'll make a call."

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After chatting with my editor, she gave me two options: Fudan or Zhongda. What do the seniors think?

(End of Chapter)