Math Teacher, Please Get Lost (GL) - Chapter 7

The little food bowl covered with drawings of fish and bubbles was Kimchi’s treasure. Every time Yao Shuhan tried to add milk to it, the cat would put one paw on the rim of the bowl, meowing insistently, refusing to let her take it away.

That morning, Kimchi seemed listless, lying limply on a big slipper without moving. When Yao Shuhan called it and tried to feed it milk, the little fellow only sniffed at the carton and turned its nose away, ignoring her.

Yao Shuhan muttered, “What’s wrong with you…”

Shu Yan, who was tying her shoelaces, grabbed the keys from the shoe cabinet, ready to head out.

“Shu Yan, I forgot to ask yesterday.” Yao Shuhan stood up. “What exactly did you tell Han Jiangxue? Why didn’t you pay her for the oden?”

“Han Jiangxue?” Shu Yan paused at the door handle. “That little oden seller? I just told her that if I eat, you’ll pay. I never said I wouldn’t pay.”

“Why are you making me pay for you?” Yao Shuhan walked over, one hand on her hip.

Shu Yan pointed up at the lightbulb in the hallway. “I fixed your lightbulb. In the summer, I might have to kill cockroaches for you too. Did I charge you for that?”

“…”

“Oh no, I’m going to be late. I’m leaving.” Shu Yan had one leg out the door but leaned back inside. “By the way, Yao-laoshi, I gave Kimchi some Fanta this morning.”

“!!!” Yao Shuhan shoved the door open and shouted down the stairwell, “Shu Yan! You’d better be ready to pay the vet bills!”

Shu Yan hopped down two steps at a time, cheerfully on her way to class.

The first-floor office was the science teachers’ office, a smoke-filled room thanks to the chain-smoking men inside.

“Hey, hey, Xiao Shu is here,” Director Liang greeted warmly as soon as Shu Yan walked in.

She tossed her folder onto her chair. “Morning, Director.”

“Here, take a look—new notice. The autumn sports meet. Students need to design class crests, flags, slogans, plus athlete registration forms. Deadline’s September 30. After National Day, the games begin.” He handed her a sheet from the messy pile on his desk.

“Oh wow, even crests and flags now. Never seen that before.” Shu Yan skimmed the A4 sheet. “Slogans, huh? That’s easy.”

Director Liang chuckled, coughed twice, and tapped his cigarette ash into a crystal cup. “Every sports meet, the science kids hate writing those. They just copy something online.”

“Nope. My class will stick to originality. That’s my principle.” Shu Yan slapped the paper onto the desk, twirling a pen between her fingers.

Old Liu, who taught chemistry, clapped his hands. “Now that’s spirit! Fine, my class will be original too. Everyone must hand one in.”

Director Liang coughed even harder. “Hahaha, Old Liu, your students are going to hate you.”

Old Liu waved dismissively. “If they hate me, I’ll just give them more homework.”

Shu Yan bit into an apple and snickered, her shoulders shaking. “Brother Liu, get ready for a peasant uprising.”

Old Liu turned his head. “And you think you’ll escape being overthrown?”

Cheeks stuffed, Shu Yan nodded vigorously. “Mm, I assign less homework.”

“Hahaha…”

Just then, Zhao Kaiqi came in with a stack of exercise books. “Teacher Shu, the homework’s all in.”

Shu Yan pointed at the desk, still munching her apple. “Put it there. I’ll get the test papers after a sip of water.”

“Okay.”

“Zhao Kaiqi, which subject gives you the most homework?” Old Liu asked.

Zhao Kaiqi brushed aside his bangs and thought. “Math. Definitely math.”

“Pfft—” Shu Yan spat water from the corner of her mouth, hastily wiping it off with her hand before running to the balcony to spit the rest out. The office erupted in laughter.

Zhao Kaiqi scratched his head in confusion, while Shu Yan handed him the printed test papers. “Alright, off you go.”

“Okay.”

Old Liu finally calmed his laughter. “Xiao Shu, your words don’t exactly match what your class rep just said.”

Shu Yan waved it off. “That’s because they’re slow and never finish. Feels like more that way.”

“Hahaha…”

That afternoon, the notice also reached the third-floor office, where the language teachers discussed it…

Yin Dapeng: “I think it’s too plain to use only Chinese every year. This time, I’ll have my class add ‘Up! Up! Up!’”

Zhao Tongtong: “I like the word ‘laurel crown.’ Poetic, delicate… but it lacks impact, doesn’t rhyme well either.”

Yao Shuhan put down her pen. “Why make it so complicated? The internet’s full of slogans. Just copy one—it’ll be better than anything the students write.”

All the teachers: …

She went on, “It’s just a sports meet. Why are you so worked up? It’s not your job, it’s the students’. What you should be worrying about is next month’s exam rankings. First ranking, prizes or penalties—your choice.”

All the teachers: …

“Yao the great talent,” Yin Dapeng smacked his lips, nodding solemnly. “You’ve made us realize a serious issue. Thank you.”

“Even if you ignore the six top classes and only look at the remaining fourteen normal ones, try not to embarrass yourselves too much,” Yao Shuhan added, resting her chin on her hands.

“Shuhan, you really are the queen of killing the mood,” Zhao Tongtong sighed. She pulled up Taobao on her phone and placed it on the desk. “Alright, let’s change to a lighter topic. Girls, my sister works at a beauty salon front desk. If we buy cosmetics through her, we get staff discount—20% off!”

Several young teachers crowded around, excited. “Let me see, let me see!”

Zhao Tongtong perked up. “Look, this one—Anfu Tang, professional skincare. Different from regular brands, it actually treats skin issues. Nana, it’ll fix your big pores. Da-ping, even your freckles can be treated…”

Yin Dapeng cut in, “Any men’s care series?”

“I’ll ask her. Hold on.” Zhao Tongtong sent a voice message to her sister on WeChat.

Yao Shuhan lifted a thick reference book to cover her face and shook her head, sighing.

“Yao the great talent, you’re not tempted?” Yin Dapeng leaned closer, whispering.

She moved her lips quietly. “I’m broke.”

“What, you’re broke?” Yin Dapeng raised a brow. “Just find a man, and you’ll have money instantly.”

Her face darkened immediately. She huffed coldly. “Even if I wanted a man, it wouldn’t be you. Mind your own business.”

Seeing her icy expression, Yin Dapeng shut up at once. “Alright, I didn’t say anything.”

Back in high school, Shu Yan’s family lived in L City. After moving to C City for college, she stayed and taught there for five years before being transferred back to L City. Alone and without family nearby, she had nowhere to go during the National Day holiday except the teachers’ dorm.

“You’re not going back to C City?” Yao Shuhan asked.

Stroking Kimchi’s ears, Shu Yan said, “The trip’s too expensive.”

Just two or three hundred for a round trip and you can’t afford it? Yao tilted her head. “Then stay here if you want. I’m going home.”

Shu Yan lifted her gaze. “You’re not even going to invite me over as a guest?”

Placing Kimchi into its carrier, Yao said flatly, “I don’t think we’re that close yet.”

“Yao-laoshi, why do I feel like you’re always avoiding me?”

“You’re overthinking. I just don’t like getting too close to people too fast.”

“Is that so?” Shu Yan looked into her eyes. Words can lie, hearts can fool themselves—but emotions are always written in the eyes. Anyone who dares to meet your gaze when speaking has an honest heart.

Some shine like gold; others pale like paper.

If one had to compare them—Shu Yan was the former, Yao Shuhan the latter.

“Sorry, I’m not used to it. But it’s not about you,” Yao added.

Then she slung on her bag, picked up Kimchi, and closed the door behind her.

On the bus, her thoughts wandered. She didn’t even realize how long she’d been distracted until she noticed she had missed several stops. She had no choice but to get off and take the bus back the other way—only to overshoot again.

This stop wasn’t far from home, so she decided to walk.

When she got back, the empty house was cold and silent. Dropping her bag, she called into the emptiness, “I’m home.”

On her bookshelf sat a photo frame, edges decorated with ginkgo leaves she had picked during senior year of high school. Inside was a graduation photo—not her own class, though.

There had once been someone, who, if they wanted to remember her face, had no choice but to study a graduation photo.

Yao flipped the frame down with a “snap,” hiding all those smiling faces.

“Meow~” Kimchi pushed through the door crack, tail swishing.

She scooped it up tightly. “Kimchi, should I sing you a song? ‘The person the maiden longed for has turned into memory, why cling to a dream that only brings sorrow…’”

At the Yingcai teachers’ dorm…

“Dad, how’s your health?” Shu Yan sat on her bed with a quilt in her arms, smiling, but worry filled her eyes.

She lay down on her side. “I’m fine. Use the money, and if it’s not enough, ask Mom for more. Don’t worry about spending on treatment. I’ve got a tutoring class outside, so I can still make two or three thousand a semester.”

“Mm, I’m not tired. Don’t worry.”

“Oh, you want to know where I live? In a colleague’s teachers’ dorm. She’s the homeroom teacher of the class next to mine.”

“She’s nice, though a bit awkward. When I first saw her, she seemed familiar. Later, I figured she must’ve been an old classmate. She didn’t say anything about knowing me, maybe she forgot.”

“Alright, I’ll take care of myself. Don’t worry.”

After hanging up, Shu Yan stared at the ceiling, thinking: Where did I meet Yao Shuhan before? Middle school? High school? College? She feels so familiar—I just want to tease her… Can’t remember. Forget it. Better think of how to make more money. Mom’s illness can’t be delayed—we need to save enough for surgery.

So, through the entire Golden Week holiday, Yao Shuhan stayed home practicing her Yan-style calligraphy, while Shu Yan spent seven straight days tutoring noisy kids at the youth center.

After the holiday, the long-awaited sports meet finally arrived—the highlight of high school life for students.

At the opening ceremony, all homeroom teachers sat in the front rows of the grandstand.

Since Class 12 and Class 13 were next to each other, their teachers’ seats were also side by side.

Yao Shuhan, sitting next to Shu Yan, refused to look at her, keeping her chin raised toward the colorful formations parading by on the track.

When it was Class 12’s turn, a chubby boy in the middle yelled, “One—two—three—four—!” and the whole class roared, “Twelve, twelve, second to none! Do the math, we’re always top one!”

Yao Shuhan shivered in disgust, shooting Shu Yan a look of disdain. “Your math class rep wrote that slogan, didn’t he?”

Shu Yan slapped her thigh and leaned right in, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah! How did you know?!”

Seeing Shu Yan’s suddenly enlarged face so close, Yao Shuhan’s breath faltered, her heartbeat stumbling. She pressed her temple, patted Yin Dapeng on her other side, and said, “Yinzi, switch seats with me.”

Secretly pleased—since he had a crush on Shu Yan—Yin Dapeng thought Yao the great talent was helping him out, though outwardly he only looked puzzled. “Why?”

Yao steadied her breath, lifted her eyes, and shot Shu Yan a deadly glare. “The stench of salted fish is unbearable!”