Chapter 26: Awaiting

“Teacher, Happy New Year!”

Seeing Wang Runwen approach, Li Heng immediately sat up straight, greeting warmly: “Have you had dinner yet? Want to join me for something?”

Though Zhang Zhiyong was known for his blunt, confrontational nature, he always showed deep respect for his teachers—this time, he shot to his feet instantly, stiff and uneasy.

Wang Runwen found Zhang Zhiyong’s overreaction amusing, gestured for him to sit, then asked Li Heng: “Are you treating?”

Li Heng thought: I can’t even afford ten yuan in my pocket—how am I supposed to survive the rest of the month if I pay?

Drink the northwest wind?

But out of face, he said with casual ease: “Of course I am. Just that egg fried rice is too plain—don’t think poorly of it, Teacher.”

Before the teacher could respond, he turned and shouted to the owner: “Another bowl of egg fried rice, please!”

“Got it! Just a moment, coming right up!” the owner replied cheerfully.

Since they were too familiar to be formal, Wang Runwen didn’t bother with politeness; she wiped the bench with her finger, found it clean enough, and sat down beside Li Heng’s right side.

She glanced at the luggage on the floor and asked: “It’s this late—did you just get here from home? Still have buses running?”

Li Heng confirmed yes, then briefly described the journey.

Wang Runwen checked her watch and said casually: “Work’s over today—registration’s closed. Why not stay at my place tonight?”

“Pfft!” Zhang Zhiyong spat out his egg fried rice in shock at this absurd suggestion, his heart pounding wildly—he nearly cried. What kind of monstrous thing was that?!

How did I end up hearing this?!

Is Liu Yejiang not just spreading rumors? Is this actually true?!

You two… you two…!

He felt he’d uncovered a colossal secret—he was sure Li Heng would chop him into pieces and feed him to dogs later.

Seeing Zhang Zhiyong lower his head, avoiding eye contact with both her and Li Heng, Wang Runwen smiled knowingly and explained: “Not school housing—it’s an old apartment in the city.”

“Someone passed by downstairs—under thirty. You two are young, full of energy—go keep watch for me.”

So it was just superstition!

Li Heng, outwardly calm but inwardly tense, exhaled quietly—he’d just been imagining all sorts of things:

What do I do? What do I do?

Is the teacher forcing me to comply?

Or should I break the surface, resist fiercely, and refuse at all costs?

Li Heng collected himself and asked: “Which floor do you live on?”

Wang Runwen said: “Second floor. I planned to stay in the city tonight, but when the sun set, I felt the place was unnaturally cold, so I came back to school.”

This was her real experience.

Even turning up the TV couldn’t quiet her mind; sitting alone on the sofa, she scanned the room, and dark thoughts kept growing in her mind.

Li Heng instinctively wanted to ask why she didn’t have her family stay to ward it off.

But the next moment, remembering her tragic past—her parents divorced, each remarried—he readily agreed.

Desperate for their help, Wang Runwen insisted on paying for the egg fried rice; later, the three boarded a bus at the school gate and headed into the city.

The distance was short—thirteen or fourteen minutes by bus.

The neighborhood was old, buildings low, none taller than four stories.

As Li Heng stepped inside, he immediately saw a shed downstairs with flower wreaths and white funeral banners; inside, gongs and drums clanged, and monks chanted sutras.

The odd thing? No crying.

Passing the shed, they reached the second floor; no sooner had they entered than he blurted: “How did he die? He wasn’t even thirty—why set up a mourning pavilion?”

In their hometown custom, those who died before thirty carried heavy grudges—called “Little Yama”—no ritual halls were held, their bodies or ashes were forbidden from entering the house, and they were buried directly at the graveyard.

The English teacher sighed: “She was a poor soul—caught in a random tragedy. On her way home from the cigarette factory at night, someone mistakenly slashed her to death.”

Li Heng asked: “Then why wasn’t she cremated?”

The English teacher replied: “She was cremated—the box in the pavilion holds her ashes.”

With that, the topic ended; both fell into silent agreement not to mention it again.

After changing shoes and placing luggage, Li Heng came out of the bathroom and saw Zhang Zhiyong staring intently at the photo frame on the coffee table.

Wang Runwen wasn’t in the living room—he called out: “Old Yong, what are you staring at so hard?”

Zhang Zhiyong, lost in the photo, jumped in surprise, then urgently waved him over, whispering lewdly: “Come quick—so beautiful!”

He’d assumed the idiot was talking about the English teacher in her youth—but when he took the photo album, he realized it wasn’t that at all.

It was a graduation group photo.

On the left was the English teacher, beaming brightly.

On the right, a woman smiled too—but one glance told Li Heng why the idiot had been so stunned.

Though dressed in plain graduation robes, unadorned and simple, her scholarly aura radiated through the frame, unmistakably a rare beauty.

As the two leaned in to admire it, a voice suddenly came from behind: “Beautiful?”

Zhang Zhiyong, quick-tongued and unguarded, blurted out: “Beautiful! So beautiful they’re bubbling—I’d marry her in a heartbeat!”

Only after speaking did he turn—and saw Wang Runwen’s half-smiling face. Instantly, his face flushed crimson; he lowered his head, fidgeting helplessly, wishing he could dig a hole and crawl into it.

Wang Runwen took the photo frame from Li Heng’s hand, gazed at the woman in the photo, and said wistfully:

“Her name is Yu Guangheng. She was my best friend in college—now she teaches at a university.”

Then she teased Zhang Zhiyong: “She’s very popular, and her family’s well-off. If you want to marry her, you’ve got work to do—first step: get into a good university.”

Zhang Zhiyong, utterly humiliated, fled to the bathroom under the pretense of needing to use it—really, just escaping.

As the door slammed shut, Wang Runwen turned to Li Heng: “Between her and Chen Zijin—who do you think is prettier?”

This was clearly mocking him.

Li Heng rolled his eyes, plopped onto the sofa, and propped his hands behind his head, saying nothing.

Wang Runwen placed the album back on the coffee table and asked curiously: “Chen Zijin went to Jingcheng—do you still keep in touch?”

Li Heng still said nothing—silence spoke volumes.

Wang Runwen seemed to understand; she crossed her arms and comforted: “There are plenty of flowers beyond the horizon. Losing you was her loss.”

With your looks, once you enter university, you’ll be like a dragon entering the sea—you’ll have your pick.”

Li Heng wanted to protest: Teacher, you misunderstand.

But then he remembered how Chen’s family had treated him coldly in his past life—his words died on his tongue.

It was still too early to say anything—he was waiting.

Waiting for word on “To Live.”

They say after hardship comes sweetness—these days have been hard enough. He looked forward to the sweetness of fame.

Everyone has vanity, everyone chases fame and fortune, everyone wants others to look up to them—even a man who’s lived two lives can’t escape this.

He estimated the days—“To Live” had been mailed for several days already; it should be arriving at the magazine soon.

A response should come soon.

Thinking of this, his heart stirred unexpectedly.

He knew he’d been holding back too long—the pressure from his village, from the Chen family, from his parents and sister, from his classmates—he needed an outlet.

He told her: “Teacher, in a few days, a letter might arrive here for you, or someone might call you looking for me—please keep an eye out. This matters a lot to me.”

Wang Runwen was puzzled: “What letter? What call?”

Nothing was settled yet; Li Heng dared not overpromise. He smiled: “Let me keep it a secret for now—you’ll find out soon enough.”

Her gaze lingered on him a moment, then she asked: “Is it the landline at my school apartment?”

Li Heng said yes.

Wang Runwen agreed readily: “Alright, I’ll keep an eye out these days.”

PS: Request monthly tickets! Request follows!

(Today’s update has reached 5000 words)

(End of chapter)