Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 14

At the supermarket entrance, people were coming and going. Not wanting to block the way, Yao Shuhan stepped aside a couple of paces. Seeing Han Jiangxue rushing over, worried her food cart might get into trouble, she said,

“Jiangxue, you stay there, I’ll come over. Don’t rush.”

“Okay. It’s nothing serious, I just finished the books you lent me the other day.” Han Jiangxue knew Shuhan was worried about leaving her oden cart unattended, afraid someone might swipe coins or food. That only deepened her gratitude toward Shuhan. She thought that if she ever made it out of hardship one day, she must repay her big sister Shuhan well.

“Out shopping, Shuhan-jie?” Han Jiangxue noticed the shopping bag in her hand. At the supermarket, plastic bags always cost extra, and disposables weren’t environmentally friendly. Shuhan usually brought her own eco-bag.

“Oh, this?” Yao Shuhan looked down at the nonwoven bag in her hand. “I grabbed it on my way out, but only after I got to the supermarket did I realize the things I wanted to buy wouldn’t fit inside at all. Took it for nothing.”

Han Jiangxue blinked. A little tuft of feather-like fluff had landed on her lashes, and Shuhan brushed it off. “Shuhan-jie, what are you buying that won’t even fit in such a big bag?”

“An electric blanket and a heater fan.”

These days had been freezing. How did Shuhan-jie not even have winter essentials? Jiangxue was shocked. “Eh? Your apartment doesn’t have them? Why only buy them now?”

“They’re not for me. I got a new roommate this year, I’m buying them for her.” Shuhan explained.

“I see…” Jiangxue nodded, dimples showing when she smiled. “Shuhan-jie, you’re really good to people. How about this: I’ll ask Auntie Wu to watch my stall, and when you’re done shopping I’ll help carry your things home.”

Carrying just one of those appliances would’ve been fine, but both together was a bit too much for one person. With someone helping, it’d be easier. Shuhan felt moved again by Jiangxue’s thoughtfulness, recalling her misfortunes and feeling a pang of sympathy. “Alright. You can also come up and sit for a bit. I’ll pick out some more books for you.”

“Great! Let’s do that. I’ll go tell Auntie Wu first. You go ahead inside.” Jiangxue turned back to the rice ball vendor to explain, then returned with the books Shuhan had lent her last time, tucked into her schoolbag. Her bag was from primary school—its colors faded, the fabric patched with mismatched thick thread at the straps. When Jiangxue picked clothes from community donations, she always chose coats with huge hoods—once the hood was down, it covered the patched straps.

Meanwhile, Yao Shuhan picked out a Rainbow-brand electric blanket and a Midea heater fan. Su Yan’s room did have an air conditioner, but she never used it. Rent was fixed and Shuhan didn’t even charge her for utilities, yet she still refused, saying running AC through the winter was too extravagant. Shuhan had been charging a heating pad daily for her instead—at least that Su Yan accepted.

Yao Shuhan faintly felt Su Yan was much too strict with money. Always saving wherever she could, even occasionally taking small advantages. She wondered: could it be Su Yan’s family wasn’t well-off? But how could she ask something like that? All she could do was treat her better, care for her more.

Shuhan thought: a heart’s capacity is only so much. When it overflows with love, it spills into longing. Longing turns into concern, into the urge to take care of someone. Even if it doesn’t move the other person, at least it moves yourself. Better to do something than nothing at all.

The two of them carried the boxes to Building C. Looking up, Jiangxue asked, “Shuhan-jie, which floor do you live on?”

“Fifth,” Shuhan panted lightly, the fan box heavy in her hands.

“Ah, that’s a bit high. Let’s go, we can rest if you get tired.”

“Mm.”

Step by step, the two outwardly delicate but inwardly strong women finally lugged everything upstairs. Jiangxue even helped set up the blanket and fan, plugged them in, then handed back the books. “Here, thank you, Shuhan-jie. I’ve got to hurry back to my stall now.”

Shuhan ran to her study and quickly pulled out two more books—Yu Qiuyu’s A Bitter Journey Through Culture and Notes on a Mountain Dwelling. “Jiangxue, take these back too.”

They were thick, finely bound, with a satisfying weight.

Jiangxue touched the covers, nodding, her big eyes shimmering. “I’ll read them carefully. Shuhan-jie, you’re so good.”

Smiling, Shuhan patted her shoulder. “Loving books is good. If I have them, why not share them?”

Just then, the door lock rattled at the entryway, keys clinking against the cabinet, followed by footsteps. Someone came in.

The moment Su Yan entered, she saw in the living room Shuhan smiling, her hand resting lightly on Jiangxue’s shoulder, while Jiangxue lowered her head shyly, clutching the books, her bangs shadowing sparkling eyes. Two flushed faces, soft and cute as could be.

Oh? What’s this then?

Su Yan’s fox-like eyes narrowed into slits. Her chest felt tight, irritated by the oden girl’s pitifully delicate act in front of Shuhan. She wanted to toss her out.

“Teacher Yao, are you taking on off-campus students now? Even tutoring in your apartment?” Su Yan wedged herself right between the two, squeezing Jiangxue aside with the same trick she used against Lin Zheyu.

Seeing her, Jiangxue recognized immediately: this was the sister who’d eaten oden and made Shuhan pay. She’d always wondered how Shuhan could be so close with her—so they were roommates! “Sister, I didn’t come for tutoring. Shuhan-jie bought you an electric blanket and heater. She couldn’t carry them alone, so I helped bring them up.”

Huh?

Su Yan froze at her words.

“I’ll go now, bye.” Jiangxue slipped off her shoe covers and left.

The apartment was left with just Yao Shuhan and Su Yan. Still standing in the living room, Su Yan held her earlier pose, dazed. Shuhan glanced at her once, said nothing, and returned to her room.

After a long while, Su Yan sighed, went into her room, lifted the sheets and touched the new blanket. She sat at the bedside, brushed her fingers over the heater’s grille—clattering sounds—and then fell into thought.

She wandered to the desk, flipped through the Pikachu calendar stuck at January. Dust scattered as she turned the pages. Frowning, she fanned it away and flipped to December: Pikachu and Charmander smiling, shaking hands. Charmander’s tail flame raised proudly, black bean-like eyes gleaming.

She tore out a sheet, copied the image of Pikachu and Charmander, then began to write.

She could feel all the kindness Shuhan gave her.

Many people were good to Su Yan—parents, friends, colleagues. She remembered all of it, and always repaid kindness. But this time, she wanted to do something not just as repayment. She wanted to make Shuhan happy, to see her smile. She thought Shuhan’s smile was beautiful, like apricot blossoms in spring rain—delicate, elegant, captivating.

It was the first time she’d truly placed someone other than family in her heart.

The other day, she’d guessed Shuhan’s phone password correctly and was shocked. That string of four numbers—she only recalled confessing once back then, never giving her birthday away. Yet Shuhan had known, remembered, and made it her password. How long had she been using it?

Shuhan was like Goldbach’s Conjecture: too few known conditions, countless hidden clues needing careful thought to uncover. Behind that complexity lay a mysterious treasure chest, filled with surprises Su Yan had never seen before.

No one had ever treated her with such careful thought—piecing together clues, stringing them across time, inching closer while hiding it all, afraid to be discovered.

But what good did that do? In the end, she’d found out anyway.

Su Yan checked the calendar—December 16 was a Saturday.

She folded the note, wanting to make a paper crane, but botched it repeatedly. Childhood crafts were long forgotten, and she’d never been good at them anyway. Only someone like Shuhan would remember such things so clearly…

Looking at the crumpled paper, she pouted. Shuhan, why did you ever like me in the first place?

Now… would you still like me?

If there’s even the slightest chance you still do, could you wait for me a little longer? I think I’m starting to understand your feelings…

She grabbed the paper, left her room, and knocked on Shuhan’s door. “Shuhan.”

There was rustling inside, then the door opened. Shuhan had changed into fluffy home clothes, with a hood that had drooping bunny ears. Her nose was a little red, her voice muffled. “What is it?”

Su Yan stared at her “obedient bunny” look, heart itching like drizzle. She rubbed her nose. “I want you to teach me how to fold a paper crane.”

Shuhan sniffed. “Are you sick? Why suddenly want to learn that? With those clumsy hands of yours?”

Ignoring her resistance, Su Yan darted inside, thrusting the paper at her. “I can do it if you teach me. Look, I already tried so many times. As long as you’re willing, I’ll learn.”

“We agreed you’re not allowed in my room!” Shuhan glared, but Su Yan’s earnest gaze silenced her. She blinked, lowered her head, and unfolded the crumpled sheet. “First you have to fold in one side of the rectangle to make it square. See?”

But before she could demonstrate, she noticed the drawings of Pikachu and Charmander, and the words written beneath. Her eyes widened, frozen for several seconds, then she raised her head, staring at Su Yan.

Su Yan held her gaze, then nodded slightly, took the paper back, and folded it as instructed. “I told you—if you’re willing, I can do it.”

“How did you know?” Shuhan grabbed her arm, incredulous.

Head down, Su Yan focused on folding, flipping corners faster and faster as old memory stirred. At last, she managed a crane. Holding it by the tail, she made it fly around Shuhan before placing it in her palm. “I checked the calendar. My birthday falls on a Saturday this year. Shuhan, would you spend it with me?”

Shuhan stared at the paper crane in her hand.

The paper had been folded and unfolded so many times its edges were frayed, soft and limp. The crane looked lopsided, with uneven wings, almost comical.

After a moment, Shuhan smiled faintly. Her gaze drifted, as if recalling the past, missing someone. “Once, in high school, it was your birthday. Others gave you gifts, but you refused them all and returned them. I thought then, you really were hateful—trampling people’s feelings.”

Su Yan nodded. “Yes. I did a lot of unlikeable things back then.”

“Su Yan, if I give you a gift this year, will you accept it?” Shuhan asked suddenly, with a bitter smile in her heart. Su Yan, I’ve prepared twelve years for this. Now it’s the thirteenth.

“As long as you’re willing, I will.” Su Yan pointed at the crane. “I used it to wish you’d be with me for my birthday. On that day, I’ll take you somewhere, and there I’ll grant you a wish in return.”

Shuhan’s lips curved. She cupped the crane between her palms. “Okay.”