Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 16:

The stone steps up and down the mountain were simply stones laid over the dirt path. Some slabs were loose and wobbled underfoot, so Shu Yan, afraid that Yao Shuhan might lose focus and trip, kept her on the inside, closer to the mountain, holding her hand tightly and never letting go.

Once they descended the hill and took another mountain path, it took less than half an hour before they reached the Sacred Tree Shrine.

As they approached the shrine, some camellia trees along the roadside were tied with red ribbons, and here and there hung a bell or a wooden plaque.

The shrine was especially quiet in the morning. There were usually few worshippers anyway, and with no village activities yet, the only sounds were chirping birds and insects.

Shu Yan led Yao Shuhan across the threshold. Inside, a flourishing Chinese mahogany tree spread its dense branches and leaves, standing solemnly in the courtyard. Sunlight poured down through the skylight, filtering through the foliage and scattering like golden dust on the ground.

Yao Shuhan tilted her head back to gaze at the towering, majestic sacred tree. A massive red rope was wound around its trunk, tied in a lovers’ knot, with strings of old bronze coins dangling beneath. Higher up, the branches were crowded with red ribbons, bells, and wooden plaques, so thick that from afar the tree looked like it had blossomed into a red flower tree, making one forget its natural green.

She couldn’t help but open her mouth in awe. “So magnificent. With all these red ribbons, could you really find the one you tied before? It’s been almost twenty years.” She turned to look at Shu Yan.

Shu Yan was at the shrine’s altar, taking a strip of red ribbon. She handed it to Yao Shuhan, then dragged out a wooden ladder from the wall’s corner. “Finding it doesn’t matter. Once tied, it shouldn’t be untied, even if it doesn’t work. Come on, I’ll hold the ladder steady for you.”

“Alright.” Yao Shuhan gripped the ribbon and slowly climbed up the ladder. At the top, she could see beyond the thick leaves—the fields reflecting the blue sky and white clouds, egrets standing in the paddies, and little birds darting for fish. She couldn’t help but sigh at the beauty.

Turning back, she paused for a moment, then closed her eyes quietly, made a wish in her heart, pressed down a branch, and tied the red ribbon to it. Smiling, she looked back at Shu Yan. “Done.”

“Then hurry down, careful not to fall.”

“Mhm.” Yao Shuhan carefully stepped down, and when she was nearly on the ground, Shu Yan caught her by the waist to steady her.

“When your wish comes true one day, we’ll plant a ‘child’s flower’ here.” Shu Yan put the ladder back and dusted off her hands.

“Child’s flower?”

In a corner of the shrine, Shu Yan found a big water jar with moss climbing its sides and a few snail shells stuck on. She scooped out some water to wash her hands. “It’s red camellia. Country folk call it ‘child’s flower.’”

“Red camellia has that name? I’ve never heard of it.”

“At first, people thought the bright red camellia looked festive, like the red cheeks of children in the cold. So they called it ‘child’s flower’ for good luck. Later, more people picked it up, and the name spread. Just country dialect.” Shu Yan explained.

Yao Shuhan nodded. “I think that’s really interesting.”

Shu Yan pulled a couple of newspapers from her bag and laid them on the shrine steps, motioning for Yao Shuhan to sit. She squinted in comfort, looking at the sacred tree. “There’s something even more interesting. Do you know the ‘Counting Nines’?”

Yao Shuhan shook her head but was curious about such folk traditions. “Counting Nines? How does it work?”

Shu Yan’s lips curled slightly, and she spoke slowly. “Every year, starting in late December, the first cold days of winter, each cycle of nine days is counted as one Nine. After nine Nines—spring has arrived.”

A camellia petal floated down. Shu Yan caught it and pressed it gently onto Yao Shuhan’s forehead.

With a warm smile, she rubbed her hands together, exhaled a puff of white breath, and continued. “When I was little, I learned a song about the Nines:
‘One Nine, Two Nine, hands kept in sleeves;
Three Nine, Four Nine, old dogs freeze;
Five Nine, Six Nine, willows by the river show;
Seven Nine makes sixty-three, travelers shed their coats;
□□ Seventy-two, cats and dogs nap in the shade;
Nine Nine makes eighty-one, old farmers stand in the fields under the sun.’
Hey, do you remember the old man at the riverbank—the one who taught me to make tin-can lanterns? He said, ‘After counting the Nines, we laugh at the blooming child’s flower.’ It means winter is over, warmth returns, children smile, their cheeks red like camellias.”

Yao Shuhan laughed and pulled out a thermos, pouring hot water into the lid and handing it to Shu Yan. “That’s really fun.”

The steam rose, veiling Shu Yan’s face in mist. She giggled. “Shuhan, your cheeks are red too—you’re a child’s flower.”

Shuhan lowered her head, covering her face with her hands. “I’m nearly thirty already, and you still call me a child’s flower? You really can’t count, math teacher.”

Shu Yan held the thermos lid, laughing so hard her shoulders shook. “I can count just fine. Then you’re a woman’s flower—beautiful, beautiful.”

Shuhan pursed her lips and tapped her lightly. “Alright, enough. Those words sound so strange coming from you.”

“Why can’t I say them? Look, everyone agrees you’re beautiful. Otherwise, why would that Cai-something and that silly Lin be so smitten with you?” Shu Yan said earnestly.

Shuhan shook her head with a smile. “Beauty is just a shell. When I’m old, wrinkled, toothless, and can’t walk, of course no one will like me anymore. If it’s a love that disappears with the shell, I don’t want it.”

Shu Yan froze, staring at her soft, moist lips. She swallowed. “There will be someone who wants to care for you, to stay with you. Even if you’re old, wrinkled, toothless, and can’t walk, she won’t despise you. Because she’ll be older and frailer than you—you’ll always be the more beautiful one.”

From the mountain road came the call of a farmer. A big yellow dog ran up, nose sniffing the air. A man carrying a hoe followed, glanced at the two sitting at the shrine’s entrance, and grinned, revealing yellow-black teeth. “Come to tie ribbons, eh?”

Yao Shuhan froze, but Shu Yan quickly smiled back. “Yes.”

The man wiped dirt from his face with his sleeve. “Not many visitors these days. But the two of you look blessed, your bond seems deep. Worship this sacred tree, and good fortune will surely come.”

“Thank you.”

“No need, no need. Enjoy yourselves.” He waved and called to the dog. “Goudanzi, don’t wander off, let’s go!”

The yellow dog snorted, shook the dust from its fur, and followed the man away.

As his figure disappeared into the mountain flowers and trees, Yao Shuhan’s face softened with delight. “The people here are so kind.”

“Of course,” Shu Yan lifted her chin with a touch of pride. “My hometown is even more simple and full of charm. The land shapes the people. You see how honest I am? That’s proof of how wonderful my hometown is.”

Yao Shuhan laughed and tapped her again. “Don’t brag so much. But it really is interesting listening to you. Your hometown must be beautiful.”

“Beautiful! Stunning! Especially in summer—you can herd ducks and pick shells—Hey, Shuhan, come home with me next summer vacation, okay?”

She froze after blurting it out. Yao Shuhan, pleasantly surprised, forgot to respond at first. They just stared at each other, speechless.

“Alright. Don’t go back on your word.” Yao Shuhan answered quickly, afraid Shu Yan would regret it and take it back.

Shu Yan had worried she’d refuse—after all, she’d hurt her before, and Shuhan had always held some hostility toward her. But now that Shuhan agreed, she was thrilled. “I won’t, I won’t. I’ll write it in my phone’s memo right now, even set an alarm to remind me every day: next summer vacation, take Teacher Yao home to herd ducks.”

Yao Shuhan laughed, covering her mouth. “Just to herd ducks?”

Shu Yan tilted her head in thought. “We could herd geese too. But geese grow big and mean, and if they get mad, they bite. You couldn’t handle that.”

Shuhan pouted. “Then I’ll herd them for you. Let the geese bite you.”

“Teacher Yao, how can you be so cruel—let geese bite me? Could you really bear that?” Shu Yan pretended to cry.

In her heart, Shuhan thought, Of course I couldn’t bear it. But she only smiled. “Yes. I’ll let them bite you to death.”

Shu Yan pouted and huffed. “And it’s my birthday today, too. I thought you cared—you remembered so clearly. But look how you treat me.”

“Oh right, if you hadn’t reminded me, I would’ve forgotten.” A little lightbulb lit in Yao Shuhan’s head. She suddenly remembered something important, rummaged in her backpack, and pulled out a small champagne-colored box. She held it up. “Shu Yan, happy birthday.”

Shu Yan blushed as she opened the box. Inside was a handmade ceramic necklace—a tiny Pikachu, yellow skin, red cheeks, smiling mouth, as if ready to cry out “Pika!” and unleash its thunderbolt.

“Shuhan, thank you.” Shu Yan lowered her eyes, lashes trembling, then leaned slightly, brushing a fleeting kiss against the strands of hair near her ear. It was brief, so brief it felt like it had never happened.

Yao Shuhan remembered when she first moved into the teachers’ dorms—how she’d been making Shu Yan’s bed while Shu Yan leaned at the door, saying she liked Pikachu best. That’s why she’d gone to the youth center to learn ceramics from a pottery teacher. For three months she made dozens of Pikachus—fat ones, skinny ones, tall ones, short ones—but none seemed right. The teacher asked her, “I think these are great. What exactly are you looking for?” Shuhan thought a while and said, “I don’t really know. I’ve thought of someone for twelve years, but I don’t even know what she likes now. The only thing I know is—she once liked Pikachu.”

It all felt like a dream.

Yao Shuhan felt everything unreal, dreamlike—the camellias had turned to fairies, clouds floated down as dancing immortals, circling her joyfully, breathtakingly beautiful.

She blinked. From her ears to her cheeks spread a flush, a fiery cloud of red. Her heart raced like a startled deer, but she still remembered to keep her composure, as if nothing had happened. “I promised to spend your birthday with you and give you a present. You don’t need to thank me. And you’re not allowed to mess with my things again! Rifling through my phone without permission—that’s invasion of privacy!”

Shu Yan chuckled, shoulders shaking, her eyes crinkled with laughter. “Who told you to stay in the bathroom so long? And your password was so simple—I thought it was my phone. I typed in my birthday and got right in.”

Shuhan, red as a cooked shrimp, lunged at her in embarrassment. “Shut up!”

“Hey, hey, don’t hit me. Honestly, if you fought me for real, you wouldn’t win,” Shu Yan teased, blocking her arms.

“Shut up!” Shuhan arched her brows, swung her backpack on, and started walking down the mountain.

Shu Yan hurried after, her hair coming loose. She tugged out the elastic, quickly tied a ponytail again while chasing. “Shuhan, wait up!”

She only lifted her chin with a snort, ignoring her.

“Shuhan, slow down!”

Still ignored.

“Shuhan, you—”

No response.

Yao Shuhan strode quickly down the path, then broke into a run across the fields. Behind her, Shu Yan’s urgent calls chased after, and slowly her lips curved into a smile. She lifted her eyes—the green mountains, clear waters, and wide blue sky stretched before her.