Chapter 134: Conquering the English Teacher

The Three Gorges are not far from Dongting Lake; they arrived at Changsha Railway Station by night and reached their destination by dawn the next day.

Historically, Fan Zhongyan wrote “Record of Yueyang Tower” on the fifteenth day of the ninth month, when the autumn air was crisp and clear. The autumn sky was bright and unobstructed, and Li Heng and his three companions were fortunate to encounter the same boundless blue expanse.

“Li Heng, is this the hotel you arranged to meet your editor at?”

After searching, Li Ran pointed to a state-run hotel on the right and asked.

“It looks like this one.”

These days, nearly every town had a state-run hotel—it wasn’t hard to find.

Li Heng and the others pulled out their introduction materials and hurriedly checked in.

Just as he turned to follow the attendant upstairs, two people came down the stairs—one of them had a familiar face: wasn’t it the editor Zou Ping?

“Teacher Li!”

Zou Ping’s face lit up with joy at the sudden encounter—how to describe it? Like a stray dog finding its master, finally home.

He’d actually been terrified by the chief editor.

Li Heng carried his dream of becoming a golden editor; before he came, Chief Editor Liao’s joking remark—“Don’t bother with him”—had sounded like a warning bell, making him treasure this thick, sturdy leg even more.

“Editor Zou, good morning.”

Zou Ping quickly introduced the man beside him: “This is Chief Editor Liao of ‘Shouhuo’ Magazine. He heard you’re writing a new novel and came specially.”

“Chief Editor Liao, hello, welcome to Xiangnan. Due to bad weather in the Three Gorges, we were delayed a day—I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

Arriving one day late, Li Heng was sincere, explaining the reason immediately upon meeting.

The goal, of course, was to make those who had waited feel better.

Chief Editor Liao was a man of some age: square-faced, full forehead, neatly combed back hair, thick glasses like beer-bottle bottoms, a fountain pen pinned to his chest—he radiated both seriousness and scholarly grace.

“December, hello. When I heard you had a new novel, I rushed over without warning—please don’t take offense.”

Seeing how young he was, Chief Editor Liao had considered calling him by his given name, but that would’ve seemed too distant, so he chose instead to address him gently by his pen name.

Li Heng immediately sensed this and smiled: “Call me Xiao Heng—my elders at home all call me that.”

“Hey, have you had breakfast yet?” Chief Editor Liao glanced around at the other three, cheerful.

“Not yet. We just checked in, and after a whole night on the train, we’re all greasy—we want to shower before going out to eat.” The English teacher was extremely clean; he needed to be spotless before eating, and Li Heng was catering to his preference.

“Then go upstairs and freshen up—we’ll wait downstairs for you to have breakfast together.” Chief Editor Liao stepped aside to let the four of them pass.

“Alright.”

Li Heng nodded, briefly introduced the English teacher and the other two, then hurried upstairs.

At this moment, the hotel attendant looked at Li Heng strangely, his mind echoing the words: “Teacher Li,” “Shouhuo Magazine chief editor,” “writing a new novel,” and “December.”

As he thought, the attendant—who had been coldly professional moments ago—underwent a complete 180-degree shift: he warmly escorted Li Heng’s group to their third-floor room, then sprinted downstairs like the wind to tell the manager what he’d heard.

The manager, after hearing this, looked utterly stunned and shocked; he quickly served tea to Liao, the chief editor, and Zou Ping, who were waiting on the living room sofa, then cautiously asked with barely concealed excitement:

“Are you the chief editor of ‘Shouhuo’ Magazine?”

Chief Editor Liao wasn’t surprised—he smiled and nodded.

The manager pointed toward the stairs with his right finger, then couldn’t help asking: “Who is the Teacher Li upstairs that warranted your personal trip?”

Chief Editor Liao found this man delightful and chuckled: “It’s exactly what you think.”

“Ah, really! It’s really the great writer December who wrote ‘To Live’!” Confirmed, the manager became even more agitated, his eyes blazing with excitement.

Remembering Li Heng’s low-key nature, and realizing he’d just revealed his identity, Chief Editor Liao immediately begged: “Please keep this confidential.”

“Rest assured—our staff are very discreet. I’ll go warn him right away.”

Without delay, the manager returned to the front desk and told the attendant: “Keep your mouth shut—the guy clearly doesn’t want his whereabouts exposed.”

“Can I ask for his autograph? My mom is his reader—she loves his novels and always says ‘To Live’ gave her the courage to keep going.” The attendant said earnestly.

The manager thought for a moment, patted his shoulder: “I understand your feelings. But don’t disturb him now—I want an autograph too. Wait until he’s about to leave, then sneak up quietly.”

“Got it, I’ll follow your advice.” The attendant’s eyes burned—he wanted to rush home and tell his disabled-but-determined mother that December had come to Dongting Lake.

Upstairs.

After freshening up, the English teacher asked: “Why did the chief editor of ‘Shouhuo’ Magazine come too?”

Li Heng bragged: “Because I’m famous.”

The English teacher scoffed: “Hmph, or maybe they just don’t trust your essay topic?”

Li Heng looked straight into her eyes and asked clearly, word by word: “Teacher, be honest—do you think I write badly?”

The English teacher suddenly avoided his gaze, flicked her long hair away sharply: “It’s just average.”

“Oh! Just average? My dear, lovable teacher has been watching me write day and night—I thought I was writing brilliantly.” Li Heng muttered.

The English teacher adjusted her glasses with her fingertip, smiled, and squinted at him: “Write your book properly—don’t think about nonsense.”

Li Heng stretched: “I’m not thinking about anything. Don’t overthink it, Teacher.”

The English teacher suddenly grew impatient and spat out a cold, sharp word through her teeth: “Go!”

“Hey, you’re such a bore—every time we’re having a good chat, you start yelling.” Li Heng complained.

Hearing this, the English teacher only smiled at him, offering no explanation—her teacherly pride was held high indeed.

The four met in the hallway, went downstairs, and ate breakfast with Chief Editor Liao and Zou Ping—it wasn’t lavish, just a simple bowl of rice noodles.

Eating noodles seemed wildly popular across Xiangnan—everywhere you went, you could find it.

But based on Li Heng’s experience, except for Changsha’s awful rice noodles—which were completely inedible—the noodles elsewhere each had their own unique flavor and were truly delicious.

He found this baffling: how had those Changsha noodle shops kept such awful flavors for so many years? Sigh! It was another mystery.

After breakfast, Chief Editor Liao and Zou Ping eagerly followed Li Heng into his room.

Did they know why they’d come?

Li Heng didn’t waste words—he shut the door, pulled out his manuscript from his bag, and laid it on the table: “Here it is—only six pieces for now.”

Looking at the six stacks of unevenly thick manuscripts, Chief Editor Liao slowly shifted his gaze from the first stack to the last. After a silent half-minute, all the words he’d wanted to say vanished from his lips—he picked up the first stack and began reading.

He took the first piece: “The Taoist Tower.”

Outside the Mogao Caves’ entrance stood a river; across it lay a stretch of open ground where several monks’ burial stupas stood, varying in height. The stupas were round, shaped like gourds, coated white. From the collapsed ones, one could see a wooden pole at the center, shaped with yellow clay, and a base built of blue bricks. The abbots of Mogao Caves had always been poor—this proved it. As the sun set, the north wind howled bitterly, making the dilapidated stupa cluster appear even more desolate.

The opening paragraph immediately captivated Chief Editor Liao with its beautiful prose and the vivid imagery it conjured. After reading two more pages, all his doubts dissolved.

By the time he reached halfway through the first piece, his demeanor had changed—he was no longer casual but solemn. The manuscript, once laid flat on the table, now rested in his two hands, cradled gently, his gaze tender as if looking at a child.

The more he read, the slower he went; the more he read, the calmer his heart became; the more he read, the more he savored it; the more he read, the more awestruck he felt…

In just a few minutes, Chief Editor Liao had transformed—from a visiting challenger into a devout disciple of the martial arts school.

The dignity of his bearing, the complete absorption in his expression—it made Zou Ping itch to read too.

Seeing his chief editor conquered, Zou Ping no longer waited—he picked up another manuscript and sat on another chair to read.

With six stacks of manuscript, they couldn’t possibly finish reading now, so Li Heng simply left them alone and went to visit the English teacher’s room next door.

“How was it? What was Chief Editor Liao’s reaction?” The English teacher lowered her voice, concerned.

Li Heng blinked: “Teacher, you don’t believe in me?”

After a few seconds of eye contact, he added: “My door isn’t fully closed.”

Hearing this, the English teacher quietly slipped out, then returned moments later.

Now it was Li Heng’s turn to grin: “Well?”

The English teacher smiled for him: “Congratulations! Looks like my judgment was right.”

She’d wanted to say she herself adored this new book—seeing professional editors Liao and Zou so utterly immersed in it gave her a sense of shared pride.

But when she looked up and met Li Heng’s strange gaze, she instantly froze, turned cold, said nothing, and walked past him to sit on the bed.

Seeing this, Li Heng said: “Teacher, you should stand by the window, look up at the bright moon—it would be more poetic.”

“It’s daytime—where’s the moon? Get out! Quickly!” The English teacher laughed bitterly, arms crossed, glaring at him.

Li Heng didn’t leave—he sat down casually in the chair opposite her.

He asked: “Teacher, you’ve traveled with us all summer—do you still have enough money?”

This teacher was stubborn: every time Li Heng paid for her train and hotel fees, she’d always slip the money back into his pocket afterward.

She’d threaten him: “If you don’t take this money, I’ll go straight back to Shaoshan.”

Faced with this dignified defiance, Li Heng couldn’t muster any anger.

Following her example, even Li Ran and the clueless one—except for occasional meals—paid for their own train and hotel fees, each one damn stubbornly independent.

The English teacher was still annoyed: “Not enough—I’m going back tomorrow.”

Li Heng said: “Don’t go—stay with us.”

The English teacher interrupted: “Stay to drink northwest wind?”

Li Heng said: “How could I let you drink northwest wind? You’re my respected teacher—I’ll make sure you’re well-fed, plump and healthy.”

The English teacher stared straight into his eyes: “I don’t see a single trace of ‘respect’ in your eyes.”

Li Heng retorted: “Not respectful enough? Should I put up a tablet and worship you?”

“Respect! Hmph!”

The English teacher tightened her grip on her chest: “If it weren’t for your writing talent, I’d have gouged out your eyes eight hundred times already.”

I…!

Damn it, I didn’t mean to!

Sinful! Sinful!

He’d glanced unconsciously—and got caught red-handed. Li Heng subtly shifted his gaze, but the English teacher didn’t let him off this time—she fixed her stare on his profile, lips curled in cold, continuous sneers.

For a moment, she stared at him, he stared blankly at the wall calendar—the room fell utterly silent, not even a pin could drop.

How long passed like this, no one knew.

Finally, the English teacher relented, looked away, and said: “I remember Song Yu’s birthplace is Dongting Lake.”

Li Heng hummed in agreement.

The English teacher asked, “Do you want to go find her?”

Li Heng didn’t avoid the question: “Of course I do.”

The English teacher scanned him, worried: “You acted that way with Chen Zijin in Jingcheng, and now you’re chasing Song Yu again—aren’t you afraid you’ll get burned someday?”

Li Heng fell silent, then said, “I have no way back.”

The English teacher sneered: “Admit you’re lustful—it’s fine. Don’t act so tormented.”

Li Heng ignored her mockery and sighed: “Teacher, you don’t understand.”

“Heh!” The English teacher cast him her usual look of disdain.

Sigh, this teacher wasn’t a kind soul at all—this place was unbearable. Amid her cold sarcasm, Li Heng stood up, ready to leave.

Unexpectedly, the English teacher suddenly said something utterly unrelated: “Li Heng, what do you think if I went to teach in Shanghai?”

Li Heng turned around, stunned: “Shanghai? Is that a sudden idea? Or did your best friend Yu Shuheng ask you to go?”

“Yu Shuheng.”

“Yeah, that’s the name.”

“I’m tired of them,” the English teacher said.

Li Heng sat back down. “Your parents?”

The English teacher nodded, then shook her head: “I’ve run into her and her new lover on the street many times.”

She meant the English teacher’s mother; the new lover was, of course, her second husband.

Li Heng said, “Shanghai’s a good place. If you want to go, go soon—you’ll have your best friend for company.”

The English teacher thought for a moment, then waved her hand: “Forget it. Get out. I want to be quiet for a while.”

This was the third time he’d been told to leave. Li Heng’s short temper flared: “Hey, stop saying ‘get out’ all the time. After this summer, I’ll really leave—never see me again. Bye now.”

Watching him storm off in indignation, the English teacher fell silent, then laughed—but the laugh faded quickly.

As the door closed, she stared blankly at the empty chair. After a long while, she pulled out paper and pen from her bag and began writing:

Shuheng, hope this letter finds you happy!

I shouldn’t be writing to you so soon again, but I have so much I want to share.

I’ve followed him out again—recently we went to the Three Gorges, and now we’re at Dongtinghu. His words have grown even more beautiful, but I’ve grown more restless.

Let’s forget about teaching in Shanghai—I’m not suited for big cities.

Leaving the English teacher’s room, Li Heng went to knock on the idiot’s door—but got no answer.

He ran downstairs and asked a staff member, who told him Zhang Zhiyong and Li Ran were still acting like fools, having vanished long ago.

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(End of chapter.)