Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 1

5:15 in the afternoon. Time for the class meeting.

From the third-floor language office, beside the desk closest to the air conditioner, Yao Shuhan capped her pen, grabbed her bag, and headed for the classroom.

“Teacher Yao, did you go to the meeting this morning? I wasn’t there, so I don’t know if the director assigned any new tasks?”

At the doorway, English teacher Yin Dapeng lifted his head to ask.

This morning, Yao Shuhan had been stuck in the bathroom with diarrhea and missed the weekly meeting.

She smiled. “Ah, what a coincidence, I didn’t go either.”

As soon as she stepped into the classroom, she was greeted by a cloud of stale air. The lectern was a mess. Squinting, Yao Shuhan spotted a giant wooden set square lying across the multimedia slide cover, a protractor with a thick string stretched across it, and a pile of colored marker caps scattered in the cracks like a chaotic rainbow.

Ha. So clean, this lectern!

Her temples throbbed. She slapped the table and barked, “Whose turn was it to clean today? Why is this desk such a mess! Where did this protractor with a string even come from? People who know would say it’s frugality; people who don’t would think our class is so poor we can’t even afford proper teaching tools. Class monitor, why haven’t you replaced it?!”

On duty that day, Guo Xiaoxiao shrank her neck into her collar, close to tears: Old Yao, I swear I’m innocent! The last period was math. The new math teacher dragged the class over time, only just left, and she was the one who made this mess. And that strung-up protractor you’re scolding… it’s hers too! During class she was even praising her homemade tool, saying the string was genius!

The kids lowered their heads in silence, enduring the storm cloud above the podium, all feeling indignant on behalf of the new math teacher after class reassignment.

Indignant about what?

Every other teacher starts the term with self-introductions, goals, dreams—blah blah blah, enough to kill a whole period. But this one? She skipped the pleasantries, dove straight into the lesson, and threw them into frantic note-taking and drills on the very first day! All the movies downloaded to their phones, all the comics they’d hidden away—completely useless!

Yao Shuhan, of course, had no idea what these little rascals were stewing over. She was simply provoked by the filthy desk, her sense of order violated by that ugly protractor tied with a string. A fire rose in her chest, threatening to burst out like a Charmander about to spew flames.

Sensing their homeroom teacher on the brink of explosion, the students braced for her “Lion’s Roar” followed by endless nagging.

And then, just at that critical moment—new development!

From outside came the sound of hurried footsteps.

Then, a head poked in through the window beside the front row. A lazy voice drawled:

“Sorry about this, my adorable students. I think I left my set square and protractor behind…”

The students all snapped their heads toward the window.

The voice was vaguely familiar to Yao Shuhan. She looked up—and froze.

There, leaning on the window ledge, was a young woman with a messy little ponytail and sly fox-like eyes, staring right back at her in surprise.

Yao Shuhan’s breath caught. White light flashed in her vision, and suddenly—time rewound twelve years…

Twelve years ago.

L City, No. 3 High School.

By the flower beds beside the teaching building.

Fifteen-year-old Yao Shuhan, face flushed, bent at the waist, arms stretched forward, clutching a vintage cowhide envelope tied with string. Her voice shook:

“Shu Yan, I like you!”

Sixteen-year-old Shu Yan, arms crossed, froze in place, expression blank. After a pause, she turned, waved down a boy passing by, and with a deadpan face pointed at Yao Shuhan still hunched over with the envelope:

“Hey bro, think you can chase this girl? She’s so starved for affection she’s turned lesbian.”

The boy looked alarmed and waved his hands frantically. “No no no, my dad said no dating before college!” He bolted.

Yao Shuhan turned to stone, skewered by Shu Yan’s careless words. Her shoulders trembled, teeth biting down hard on her lip. If she looked up right now, she’d reveal a face flushed the color of pig’s liver.

But Shu Yan was always thick-skinned, oblivious to the fragile emotions of the girl with braids and black-rimmed glasses before her.

“You hear me, classmate?” Shu Yan patted her shoulder and squinted. “Huh, you do look familiar. Which class are you in?”

Slowly, Yao Shuhan lowered her hands, clutching the sweat-soaked envelope. “Class Two… of Grade Ten.”

“Oh, the fast-track liberal arts class. Must be good at studying.” Shu Yan nodded.

Yao closed her eyes, battling herself, then whispered, barely audible: “I… before the reassignment, I was in Class One.”

“Eh?” Shu Yan widened her eyes. “What a coincidence! I’ve always been in Class One. No wonder you look familiar. Sorry though, I don’t really remember you, haha.”

Yao froze again. Her face, just starting to cool, turned crimson once more.

She carefully held out the envelope again. “Shu Yan…”

Ding ding ding—

“Ah, sorry classmate, the bell! I gotta go. Bye~” Shu Yan skipped away, turned back, waved energetically. The sunlight draped over her, stretching her shadow long across the grass, right to Yao’s feet.

Shuhan stared at her toes until tears welled up.

She said I became a lesbian because I lack love. She pitied me to a boy. She even said she didn’t remember me!

Shuhan sniffled pitifully, wiped her eyes, and vowed to forget like a goldfish with seven-second memory. Forget today, forget the past, forget Shu Yan herself.

That was her first heartbreak, her young heart stomped to pieces. Clenching tiny fists, she swore silently: Shu Yan, I liked you so much, and you dared treat me like this. One day, I’ll make you regret it!

But frail little Shuhan, born into a scholarly family, had no means of vengeance. All she could do was study. Study, test, win scholarships. Study, test, win more scholarships. Eventually she tested into prestigious B Normal University, and after graduation, was assigned to Yingcai Middle School, the city’s top school, where she became a famously talented and beautiful Chinese teacher.

From age 15 to 27, in twelve years, she never once felt her heart skip for anyone the way it had for Shu Yan.

Friends thought she was pining for some tall, handsome man. They told her: there are so many good men who want you, why hang yourself from one tree?

Yao only shook her head gently. “It’s not about good or bad. Some people are irreplaceable. Even if the longing changes, even if I don’t think of her the same way anymore, the story that once wrote itself into my life will never be erased.”

“Homeroom teacher! This is our new math teacher, Teacher Shu Yan! She’s amazing!” Class monitor Wang Xiao couldn’t hold back any longer, introducing.

Snapped from her daze, Yao tucked loose hair behind her ear, cleared her throat, and forced a smile before sitting back down.

“Um,” Shu Yan tapped the window ledge apologetically. “I’ll just grab my set square and protractor and be on my way.”

Yao glanced at the duty roster on the blackboard. “Guo Xiaoxiao, aren’t you going to clean the desk?”

“Right away!” Guo Xiaoxiao scrambled up to the podium, reaching for the tools.

“It’s fine, I’ll take them.” Shu Yan reached too.

At the same moment, Yao leaned over to pick up some marker caps. Their arms brushed.

Like being shocked, Yao recoiled, dropping the cap back into the box.

Shu Yan studied her closely, lips curving in a half-smile.

She picked a marker from the box and handed it over. “Teacher Yao, I just transferred to Yingcai last week. I’m now homeroom teacher of Class Twelve, teaching math to Classes Twelve, Thirteen, and Fourteen. From now on, we’re partners. I’m still new here, so I’ll be relying on your guidance.”

She winked with her right eye, lips tugging into an unreadable smile.

Yao’s brows knitted. Her temples throbbed again. “…Of course, Teacher Shu. If you need help, just ask.”

“Mm.” Shu Yan nodded, fox eyes narrowing, and with her tools in hand, she turned. “See you tomorrow, Teacher Yao. Students, see you too~”

“See you tomorrow, Teacher Shu~” the kids chorused sweetly.

See you my ass. I don’t want to see you for even one day!

That smile of hers had left Yao drenched in cold sweat, a bad feeling gnawing at her chest.

Twelve years without a trace, and now, suddenly—she’s back?

“Haah…” Elbow on the desk, Yao sighed heavily.

“Yo, big-shot Yao.” Yin Dapeng leaned on the doorway, arms full of test papers. “What are you sighing for, eh?” He peeked outside and grinned, exposing two big yellow teeth. “So… you saw the new Teacher Shu Yan?”

The mere mention made her temple twitch again. “I saw her.”

He chuckled, slapped the papers onto a desk in the front row.

“Ahhh!” groaned student Feng Xiaojun. “So many assignments, I’m dead!”

“Don’t take the college exam then!” Yin barked.

Feng wailed and passed the papers back, eyes welling. Three great mountains on a student’s back: teachers, homework, and exams… when will it ever end?

“Hey hey,” Yin hopped over to Yao’s side, nudged her elbow. “So? What do you think?”

She scooted away, brow arched. “What do you mean, what?”

“Come on,” he clicked his tongue. “That Shu Yan teacher.”

“Yinzi, this is the classroom. The kids are right here. Can you pick a PG topic?” She flicked a marker at him.

A student in the front row giggled. “We all know, Teacher Yin’s just scouting his next crush!”

Yao smirked, jerking her chin toward the kids. “See? Even they know. Poor Yinzi.”

The room burst into laughter.

“Wu Hong!” Yin barked suddenly, face stern.

“Yes, Boss Yin, what’s the order?” The class rep dashed to the podium.

The others paled. Oh no.

“Go grab the second set of mock exams from under my desk. Hand them out.”

“Okay.”

Groans filled the room.

“No! Teacher Yin, you can’t be this cruel—!”

“Two sets due tomorrow~” he sang.

“Aw man!!”

“Or tonight, if you like.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow! We’ll hand it in tomorrow night!”

“Good. Don’t stay up too late. Health is important.” He nodded, satisfied, before turning back to Yao. “I asked around. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Be honest, what do you think?”

Yao snorted lightly, pulling her vibrating phone from her bag. “If you like her, go ahead and try.”

She opened her messages. One missed call. One new text:

Hello, is this the shared housing ad you posted downstairs in the C block of the teacher’s apartments? I’d like to room with you. If you’re free, let’s meet at the building entrance at 7 tonight. If not, call me and we’ll reschedule.