Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 15:

In the southwest corner of L City, separated by a great river, there was a small island that could be reached via the Fuxin Bridge. The island was round in shape, and at sunrise and sunset, the sun’s glow scattered across the river, wrapping the island in golden light. It looked just like a sun reflected in the water, so the locals called it Sun Island.

On a deep winter morning, in a small alley on Sun Island, crisp, melodious birdsong came from within the courtyard of a tiled house. A graceful branch of white plum blossoms stretched over the wall, occasionally shedding a petal or two that drifted down into the puddles on the stone-paved path.

The wooden gate of the small courtyard was gently pushed open. A tall woman with braided hair slipped in, tiptoeing and sneaky. She wore a short down jacket covered in maroon-red stars. Leaning against the door, she peeked inside before turning back to beckon.
“Shuhan, quick, come in.”

Behind her, Yao Shuhan crept in on tiptoe. Dressed in mint green, she was a sharp contrast to Shu Yan’s starry maroon coat. Red with green might sound gaudy, but weren’t clashing colors all the rage these days?

The courtyard’s flowerbeds were filled with various flowers and plants, some covered with a thin layer of plastic film, dewdrops clinging to them. As the two tiptoed further inside, a sharp cry suddenly rang from under the eaves:
“Thief! Thief! Thief! Thief!”

Yao Shuhan jumped in fright, one foot on the stone step, the other still on the ground, her body tipping backward uncontrollably. Shu Yan’s heart nearly leapt out of her chest. She rushed forward to grab her, steadying her by the shoulder.
“It’s fine, that’s just a myna calling. Don’t daydream when you walk. You’re always tripping.”

Shuhan’s ears turned red at that. It was true—she often walked absentmindedly, bumping into electric poles, trees, even the big mirror outside her dorm building. Her nickname was Flat Ground Tumbler. The worst time was when she’d run straight into her high school homeroom teacher—after the collision, the two had just stared wide-eyed at each other in silence. Mortifying.

She lifted her head and saw seven or eight birdcages hanging from the beams. Inside were black and yellow birds, hopping about and chirping now and then. Their trilling was so clear and sweet it refreshed the spirit.

The large black bird nearest her tilted its head and cried again, “Thief! Thief!”

Shu Yan laughed, stretched out a finger to poke the plump bird.
“You’re still calling? You’re the thief.”

The myna flapped its wings. “Thief! Bad egg!”

“Oh, it knows other words too.” Shuhan’s eyes lit up in delight. “But it’s right—you are a bad egg.”

Shu Yan shook her head. “No, I’m a good egg.”

Shuhan laughed and swatted at her.

“Shameless girl! What’s there to steal here? Just flowers, plants, and a few little fellows!”

From the other side of the courtyard fence, an elderly man hurried over, a rake in hand, panting as he ran.

Shu Yan winked at Shuhan and stepped forward. “Uncle Zhu, it’s me, A-Yan. Do you still remember me?”

“A-Yan?” The old man squinted at her, frowning, then dug a folding pair of reading glasses from his chest pocket. He put them on, leaned closer, and peered carefully.
“Ah—you are A-Yan! Grown into a fine young lady!”

“Uncle Zhu, it’s been years. You’re still looking as strong as ever.”

“You cheeky girl, still so sweet-tongued, haha!”

“Not just strong, your spirit’s even better. Uncle Zhu, I also brought a friend.” Shu Yan beckoned, and Shuhan came forward with a small smile, bowing slightly.
“Hello, Uncle Zhu. I’m Shu Yan’s friend, Yao Shuhan.”

Lifting his glasses, the old man examined her. “Shuhan? What a fine girl, such a beauty!”

Embarrassed, Shuhan brushed her lip. “Thank you, Uncle…”

“So, what brings you two girls sneaking into an old man’s courtyard?” Uncle Zhu set the rake down and clasped his hands behind his back, speaking word by word.

Shu Yan walked to the fence where he had come in, glancing toward the fields and little hills beyond. She smiled.
“Uncle Zhu, the camellias must be blooming, right?”

“You still remember the red camellias on that hill, A-Yan?” Uncle Zhu sighed and looked off into the distance.
“Back then, so many people came to see them. They tied red ribbons on the big Chinese toon tree for blessings—prayers in spring, vows repaid when the camellias bloomed. But now, no one remembers. Look there—those few camellia trees by the roadside. They’re still growing well. Planted years ago by some visitors. The flowers bloomed for a few years, withered for a few years, but those people never came back.”

His weathered face showed sorrow. He bent with effort to pluck a weed at the wall’s base.
“People… it’s hard to begin well and end well.”

A faint bell seemed to ring in Shuhan’s mind—ding-ling, ding-ling.

What does it mean to begin well and end well?
How can one truly do it?

Don’t make promises lightly. Don’t carelessly utter wishes. If you make a promise, you must see it fulfilled. If you make a wish, you must keep a sincere heart.

Even small matters can carry infinite weight.

Shu Yan stepped closer. “Uncle Zhu, give me a camellia seedling. Shuhan and I will go fulfill a vow.”

He raised an eye. “After all these years, can you still find the red ribbons?”

Shu Yan smiled. “Of course.”

“Alright then. Come with me.” Uncle Zhu bent his back and slowly led them behind the house. The backyard was filled with carefully nurtured seedlings. He picked out a strong red camellia sapling and placed it in Shu Yan’s hands.
“A-Yan, this flower I give to you. May it be your blessing. The road ahead, walk it well.”

“Thank you, Uncle Zhu.”

Carrying the sapling, Shu Yan led Shuhan along the field paths, where scattered camellia blossoms dotted the roadside.

Shuhan asked curiously, “You came here as a child to pray? I never knew there was such a place on Sun Island.”

“You grew up in the city, of course you didn’t. I was ten then. My little sister had a high fever. I wanted her to get better. They said the sacred tree on Sun Island was very effective, so I came to pray.”

“And then?”

Shu Yan’s gaze darkened. “She passed away.”

Shuhan froze, breath catching. She lowered her head, saying nothing.

Shu Yan continued, “I was furious. That sacred tree was useless. I climbed a ladder as high as I could, tied the red ribbon to the tallest branch, and knelt beneath it all night. But Ayu still left.”

Shuhan lifted her head and drew a deep breath. “So you never came back to repay the vow, right?”

Shu Yan nodded.

Shuhan quickened her pace to get ahead, grabbing Shu Yan’s other arm and pointing toward the hilltop.
“Then let’s plant the flower at the very highest point. Pour all your anger there. Let the gods hear it, let your sister hear it. She’ll be well in heaven.”

A fleeting light passed through Shu Yan’s eyes. “Shuhan, I didn’t bring you here to fulfill my vow. I brought you here so you could pray. This is me repaying your wish.”

“I know.”

Shu Yan added, “There’s a shrine under the toon tree. Inside are red ribbons. Just tie one on the branch.”

Shuhan curved her lips into a smile. “Then I’ll help you plant the flower first, then I’ll pray.”

“Alright.”

“Tired? Want me to carry it for a bit?”

Shu Yan dodged her hand. “Forget it. If you carry it, I’ll be even more tired later.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Shu Yan tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Think about it. If I carry the seedling up, later I’ll have to carry you down. Wouldn’t that be worse?”

Knowing she was teasing her—mocking her weakness, that she couldn’t even carry a sapling without collapsing and needing Shu Yan to piggyback her down—Shuhan flushed red and closed her mouth.

Fortunately, the hill wasn’t high. Soon they reached the top. Uncle Zhu was right—the whole hill was ablaze with camellias, a sea of deep red. The air was rich with fragrance. Fallen petals carpeted the path like a scarlet carpet.

Shuhan thought: If I imagine this as a wedding aisle, walking it with Shu Yan… not bad at all.

Shu Yan put down the sapling and used the iron spade provided for pilgrims to dig a hole. “Let’s plant it here.”

Shuhan untied the plastic wrapping from the soil around the roots and held the sapling steady as Shu Yan filled the hole back in.

“So small.” Shuhan crouched, brushing the little camellia’s leaves. “I wonder when it’ll grow tall.”

Imitating her, Shu Yan gently patted Shuhan’s head. She smiled. “Don’t be fooled by how small it is. In five years it’ll be taller than you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

The cool breeze carried the camellias’ fragrance across their cheeks. Shuhan tilted her head, quietly gazing into Shu Yan’s dark eyes that held the faintest trace of a smile. Overhead, two wagtails flew by, their high-pitched song echoing. All around, the camellias burned redder than the dawn.

Hidden in her sleeve, Shu Yan’s fingers twitched. She longed to lift her hand, stroke Shuhan’s cheek, brush away the hair by her ear, and kiss her eyes…

In the silence, only the distant birdsong stretched on.

Shuhan sat quietly in the serene air, her eyelids fluttering now and then, her long curled lashes like mischievous butterflies fluttering their wings.

Shu Yan’s heart pounded. Every flutter of those lashes made her chest thump harder. Don’t move, don’t move, she begged silently.

“Come, I’ll take you to see the big toon tree.” At last, Shu Yan couldn’t hold it in. She reached out, threading her fingers through Shuhan’s and interlocking them tightly.

Shuhan froze for a moment, then clasped back firmly, smiling sweetly. “Okay.”

Eyes straight ahead, Shu Yan asked, “Have you decided what to wish for?”

Shuhan raised her gaze to the mountains and rivers, the blue sky, the drifting white clouds.
“Mm—yes, I’ve decided.”

Shu Yan nodded. “That’s good.”

Perhaps the beauty of the scene lifted her mood, for the great scholar Yao grew poetic. With curved brows and soft voice, words flowed from her lips like a gentle stream:

“A thousand rivers hold a thousand moons,
Ten thousand miles of cloudless sky, ten thousand miles of heaven.
The Buddha says this is the true realm.
My wish… is for Shu Yan to remain by my side.”