Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 25

The wind was so cold that it stung her face, her nose nearly frozen off. With her head lowered, Shu Yan’s lashes trembled. After a long while, she finally let out a muffled voice:

“Let me think about it.”

“She’s given more than what you see on the surface.”

Shu Yan lifted her head, her deep gaze tinged with melancholy.
“Who?”

Lan Xi slid a hand into her pocket and fumbled around.
“Yao Shuhan.”

Shu Yan didn’t like hearing Yao Shuhan’s name come out of this woman’s mouth. Her voice turned cold.
“I warn you, don’t you dare set your sights on her.”

Lan Xi smiled.
“If I wanted her, I wouldn’t be here talking to you.”

“Then what do you want? Me? Impossible.”

Lan Xi whistled, snapped her fingers, and said with a grin:
“You’re right. Right now I am after you. But you don’t need to worry—my ultimate goal isn’t you. And besides, I can help you.”

Shu Yan nodded slightly, took two steps toward the fence, and said in a low voice:
“Let me think about it.”

Turning around, Lan Xi headed toward the stairwell. As she walked, she pulled out her phone. The scheduled text message had already been successfully delivered.

Elsewhere, on the third floor of the main academic building, Yao Shuhan stood silently by the window of the office, gripping her phone tightly. She replayed in her mind the scene she had just witnessed on the rooftop of the south teaching building: Lan Xi had kissed Shu Yan—she had seen it clearly.

At 1:35 p.m., a message from an unfamiliar number had told her to pay attention to the rooftop of the south teaching building. At first, she hadn’t thought much of it, but curiosity got the better of her and she glanced up—only to catch, in that very moment, Lan Xi and Shu Yan’s intimate exchange.

Her whole body suddenly felt weak. She had no energy to think about whose prank this might be, nor did she care to dwell on what Shu Yan did or with whom. But still… if Shu Yan really ended up with another woman, wasn’t that the same as going astray? And could that woman possibly treat her well? If things were going to turn out like that anyway, wouldn’t it be better if… if Shu Yan was with herself instead?

Back and forth, her thoughts circled, none of it sitting right. She couldn’t understand what Shu Yan was thinking. Why was Shu Yan always so childish, always oversimplifying everything? That was one thing, but what really made her angry was—why couldn’t Shu Yan just listen to her?

Shu Yan, why are you so disobedient?

Ah…

—

On the first floor of the L City Mental Health Center, a tall beauty with chestnut-colored curls and knee-high leather boots stepped into the elevator. As soon as she entered, the others inside shifted away to give her space.

Lan Xi tilted her head, phone in hand, speaking softly:
“Hello, Director Qian? This is Lan Xi—yes, the former doctoral student under Professor Yuan of D University’s psychology department. I remember during my junior year I interned at your hospital for a while. Back then, I came across a case involving a female high school student…”

The elevator reached the top floor. Slowly stepping out, she found the hall nearly empty and turned left.
“Yes, I’m at the archives room now. Don’t worry, I’ll just confirm some information and leave right away. I won’t disturb your work. And Professor Yuan is in good health, you can rest assured. I’ll send him your regards. Thank you so much today. Goodbye.”

She ended the call, drew a deep breath, and knocked on a door.
“Hello?”

“Please come in.”

Inside the archives room sat a thin, bespectacled middle-aged man, a black mole by his ear. He looked up, gave a small smile.
“You must be Miss Lan? The director already informed me. Tell me the approximate time and I’ll look up the file.”

“Thank you.” Lan Xi stepped forward.
“I think it was around the spring of the year XXX4… maybe March or April. Or, could you just search by name?”

The man tapped on the keyboard, opening the search bar.
“The name?”

“Yao Shuhan.”

He typed it in and pressed confirm. Immediately, a file popped up on the screen.
“Got it. Is this the one?”

The electronic photo showed Yao Shuhan at seventeen, braided hair, big eyes, but a deadened stare and tightly pressed lips.

Lan Xi glanced over it briefly and lowered her eyes.
“You’re still using aversion therapy?”

The man sighed.
“Some families insist on it. Parents’ hearts… they just want what they think is best.”

Lan Xi pressed her lips together without replying, stepping back from the desk.
“Thank you for your help.”

The man waved it off.
“Patient files are strictly confidential. I’m only helping because Director Qian asked me to.”

“Thanks.” Without another word, Lan Xi left the archives.

So she hadn’t been mistaken. When she first met Yao Shuhan, there had been a vague familiarity. Later, when she noticed that deeply enraptured look in Yao’s eyes whenever she saw Shu Yan, Lan Xi’s gaydar had gone off immediately. And the more she thought about it, the more memories stirred—her internship years ago, when she had glimpsed that stubborn girl who never resisted, did whatever she was told, but answered no questions.

Lan Xi had only filled forms back then, rarely contacting patients directly. She had seen Yao only a handful of times from afar. She never knew the outcome of her treatment, only that the attending doctor eventually declared the girl “recovered enough” and sent her off.

At the time, Lan Xi could only give a helpless laugh. To her, that so-called therapy had been nothing more than farce.

Being from the She ethnic minority, Lan Xi had grown up in a simple, tolerant household. They knew little about same-s3x love but believed firmly in personal freedom and happiness above all. Her parents were indulgent, even supportive—her father once told her that if she found someone suitable, she should settle down, but since she was older, she must remember to be gentle with younger girls. She would always hug him enthusiastically, telling him, “Dad, I love you the most.”

Indeed, having one’s love acknowledged and blessed by family was an immeasurable happiness.

Thinking of this, Lan Xi curled her lips, recalling what Yao had told her earlier about Han Jiangxue’s past. Pacing the corridor a few times, she finally dialed a number.
“Hello, Lulu, it’s me.”

A sharp, mocking voice answered:
“Well, well, what wind blew my goddess here? What, dumped someone again? How many do you plan on swapping out this time?”

Lan Xi frowned. She really couldn’t deal with this cousin.
“Lulu, you’re still handling correspondence programs, right?”

Yang Linlu pouted.
“Why?”

“There’s this kid I’d like you to help out with—see if you can get her a certificate.”

A pause.
“Let her try night school first. Bring her over sometime and I’ll take a look.”

“Thanks, Lulu.”

“Wait.” Lulu’s tone suddenly shifted, playful.
“Sis, don’t go after kids. If you really want one, I—”

“Lulu, stop fooling around. That’s enough.” Lan Xi hung up, touched her earlobe thoughtfully, and sighed.

—

After evening self-study, Yao Shuhan didn’t wait for Shu Yan.

Shu Yan foolishly lingered downstairs for twenty minutes. By the time the lights went out and the guard came by locking doors with a huge ring of keys, he stopped at her side.
“Teacher, do you still need something?”

Shu Yan shook her head, her hands fidgeting in her pockets.
“No.”

After that, she looked up at the third floor briefly, then lowered her gaze and walked away. She wandered around the three teaching buildings twice, kicked at a pile of leaves, then looped behind the school to the administrative building, and circled the track field twice more. The more she walked, the more restless she felt, unable to stop.

On and on she went, until she suddenly realized she no longer knew where she was. Around her were several internet cafés, so this must be some hidden alley near the school. The further she walked, the more remote it became, until at last she found herself at the end of a narrow alley—facing a cheap love hotel.

Shu Yan swore under her breath.
“Damn it. In high school already?”

Back in college, she’d heard classmates gossip about couples sneaking off to cheap motels, and she remembered people saying there’d always be vending machines selling… those things.

Sure enough, around the corner she spotted one—an automatic condom dispenser, looking not unlike a drinks machine.

She glanced around—no one. Creeping over, she bent down to examine it closely.

Wow, so many flavors. And functions… all sorts. Which brand worked best?

Her phone buzzed. Shu Yan answered.
“Hello.”

It was Yao Shuhan.

“Shu Yan, do you even know what time it is?”

“No.”

“Are you coming back? If not, I’m locking the door.”

Shu Yan chuckled.
“I got lost.”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a heavy exhale.
“What’s around you?”

Shu Yan lifted her head. Above her, the neon red English sign of the motel flickered. She smirked.
“L.”

Yao froze, her voice turning cold.
“Who are you with?”

Shu Yan hummed, drawing her fingers across the smooth glass of the vending machine—silky ultra-thin, scented, natural latex—and then she stopped.
“Do you care?”

Silence. Then Yao said,
“Shu Yan, how old are you? Can’t you have some sense of propriety?”

“Do you care?”

“…”

“I’m lost.”

At length, as if in reluctant surrender, Yao exhaled again.
“Stay where you are. I’ll come get you.”

Leaning back against the wall, Shu Yan let the cool night air wash over her.
“Okay.”

If her own strength wasn’t enough, then what if it was the two of them together? If she couldn’t manage alone, then with Yao Shuhan by her side? From birth till now, life had been nothing but stumbles and hardships—was any step ever easy? And in twenty-eight years, what were the chances of meeting someone you both love and who loves you deeply in return? They say happiness must be fought for. If you don’t even fight, then what the hell are you doing?

So—let’s do the math.

Solution:

Shu Yan + Yao Shuhan = Happiness (given) or Pain (variable) → Outcome = Happiness ∪ Pain
Shu Yan + Anyone Else = Definitely Not Happiness (given), Pain (given) → Outcome = Extreme Pain

∵ Happiness > Extreme Pain,
and Pain ∪ Happiness > Extreme Pain,
∴ The optimal solution is Shu Yan + Yao Shuhan.

Lifting her head to the dark sky, where a few stars twinkled faintly, Shu Yan drew a breath.

See? Just a simple optimization problem. The answer comes instantly.

It’s easy, isn’t it?

She stood firm, her eyes shimmering.

Shuhan, the question you left me—I’ve solved it. The answer is so simple.

Shuhan, I like you. Right now, it’s not much. So little that I’m embarrassed to show you. But wait for me. Let me keep adding, day by day, moment by moment, heartbeat by heartbeat. Until addition becomes multiplication, and multiplication grows to exponents. Until the numbers are too vast to count—then I’ll propose to you. You’ll marry me. And I’ll marry you.