Chapter 1: Her Little Ostrich
Since this semester, Nancheng Middle School has banned weekend classes, granting students two-day weekends. Fridays, therefore, are filled with palpable restlessness.
In Class 1, Grade 1, the classroom hums with chaos. Test papers are stuffed into schoolbags—though they bring more belongings than they intend to study.
"Wait, Zhao Xiaoxiao! There's still one class left! Why are you in such a hurry?"
Zhao Xiaoxiao grins, unfazed. "Ms. Lin's classes fly by! I'm packing early so I can bolt as soon as school ends."
Her deskmate protests but can't help following suit, shoving things into their bag.
Moments later, the bell rings, and students scramble to their seats like startled sparrows. Zhao Xiaoxiao lays her English textbook on the desk, pretending to read, while her other hand rummages in the drawer, cramming everything into her bag and zipping it up with practiced ease.
As she looks up toward the door, Lin Zhengmo steps in.
Beauty is always a feast for the eyes—
Lin Zhengmo wears a plain white dress that makes her skin glow like porcelain, so fair it seems to shun sunlight. Her oval face holds delicate features, exuding a coolness that lacks harsh detachment; instead, her slimness gives her a fragile air. Her hair, long and black, falls casually over her shoulders, catching the natural light in a soft halo. Her eyes are gentle and serene, radiating a warm, peaceful beauty.
She places her laptop down, lifts her eyes slightly, and says in a calm, soft voice: "You all seem so happy every Friday."
The class chuckles lightly.
"But we still have to finish the lesson," she adds, propping one hand on the podium, her slender waist leaning against the desk as she opens the presentation with the other. Her gaze meets students' eyes briefly, and she smiles. "Don't worry, I won't keep you after class."
Laughter ripples again.
Lin Zhengmo's classes are never short of laughter. Though she thinks herself not very humorous, students always respond warmly—she figures they're just being kind.
Today's lesson is tight, so she skips small talk. "First, let's review the phrases from last class. Some of you are still misusing prepositions."
As she flips to the relevant slide on the projector, her phone vibrates. A WeChat message pops up.
It's probably from "AhAhAh"—her online dating partner of three months, though she still uses a cautious nickname. She struggles with how to address someone in such an intimate relationship; terms like "honey," "baby," or "wife" haven't yet entered their vocabulary.
What did AhAhAh say?
She can't check now, but the message tugs at her mood.
A faint smile tugs at her lips, fleeting but noticeable.
A bold student calls out: "Ms. Lin! You're smiling! Who messaged you? Is it your partner?!"
Students can't help being curious about their pretty teacher, especially at this age. Being friendly has its downsides—students may overstep boundaries.
Lin Zhengmo handles it with ease. She schools her expression, replying evenly: "I have no plans to date at the moment."
Her words extinguish all curiosity. Who would doubt the kindest Ms. Lin?
But she can—and does.
"Back to prepositions," she continues, picking up a chalk to draw a circle on the blackboard. "On and in are straightforward. For example..."
Her sweet voice fills the classroom, making even the sunlight feel brighter. Zhao Xiaoxiao is enraptured, thinking Lin Zhengmo is like the green of early summer—refreshing and heartwarming, the kind that blossoms in everyone's heart.
The class flies by...
True to her word, Lin Zhengmo dismisses them on the bell. Students scatter instantly. She rarely nags—at this age, they can take care of themselves, and too much advice feels tedious.
After packing, she hurries out of the classroom, resisting the urge to check her phone. Nodding to students greeting her, she reaches the faculty office and finally reads AhAhAh's messages.
AhAhAh: [You're off today.]
AhAhAh: [What's your plan?]
Lin Zhengmo types slowly: Go home, eat, watch dramas.
She adds, then deletes: If you want to meet, we could go shopping or watch a movie.
"Hey, Ms. Lin, joining the team building tonight?" asks Teacher Zhao from next door.
Lin Zhengmo turns off her screen. "No, I need to visit my mom."
"Oh, Director Jian is confirming numbers." Teacher Zhao smiles. "Just double-checking!"
Director Jian—Jian Yue.
A politics teacher and director of Grade 1, similar in age to Lin Zhengmo but not close. Lin Zhengmo's impression: cold, serious, meticulous, and hard to get along with. Colleagues seem to like her, but Lin Zhengmo has no interest.
Conclusion: Nothing to talk about!
Another message from AhAhAh: [Ordered takeout for you~]
"Are you sure you won't come?" Teacher Zhao persists.
Lin Zhengmo suppresses a smile. "My mom already prepared dinner."
"Wow, lucky! I'll tell the director." Teacher Zhao disappears.
Lin Zhengmo stares at her phone, replying: [I'm skipping team building, perfect timing—I'm hungry.]
AhAhAh replies instantly: [I guessed that.]
Lin Zhengmo: [What did you order?]
AhAhAh: [Check when you get home.]
Lin Zhengmo: [This is the third time I've skipped. Will colleagues think I'm an outsider?]
AhAhAh: [Of course not.]
AhAhAh: [Everyone has their own life.]
AhAhAh: [Go home before the food gets cold~]
Lin Zhengmo smiles at the screen. Who is AhAhAh? They always comfort her perfectly. She loves their warmth and thoughtfulness—traits rare in her daily life.
Sending a "Got it," she gathers her things to leave.
The Grade 1 faculty offices are adjacent; next door is Director Jian's office. Passing by, Lin Zhengmo hears Teacher Zhao's voice—and, despite herself, catches a clear "mm" from inside.
That "mm"—Jian Yue's voice.
Lin Zhengmo keeps her head down, wanting to be invisible. She just wants to go home to her "mom's" delicious meal.
She slips away...
Meanwhile, inside the office:
"Director, only Ms. Lin from the English department is not joining."
"Mn." Jian Yue sits at her desk, a loose blue-striped shirt complementing her. Two buttons are undone, revealing a delicate silver necklace along her collarbone. As she hums, she sees Lin Zhengmo scurry past the corridor like an ostrich.
Jian Yue's cold eyes instantly warm, her lips curving imperceptibly.
"Director, Ms. Lin seems to dislike such events. Maybe don't ask her next time—she won't come."
"Maybe."
Teacher Zhao adds, "She said she's having her mom's 'yummy dinner'."
(An exaggeration—Lin Zhengmo said "dinner," not "yummy dinner," but it's the same to her.)
Jian Yue looks up, her almond eyes meeting Zhao Ming's. "Her mom's 'yummy dinner'?"
"Yep, she couldn't wait to leave!"
"Oh, it's normal to be hungry." Jian Yue stands. Tall—about 1.7 meters—she tucks her shirt into loose jeans, her figure slender, legs long and straight. There's an indescribable aura about her: capable, fresh, serious yet wise.
She's beautiful—striking features, a hint of heroism in her eyes without losing femininity, a different beauty from Lin Zhengmo's.
If Ms. Lin is a fairy untouched by worldly cares, Director Jian is an untouchable ancient deity.
Both have a divine air—quite a match, Zhao Ming thinks.
"Let's go, Teacher Zhao." Jian Yue steps out.
Zhao Ming hurries after her. "I'll meet the others at the restaurant."
Jian Yue walks briskly, searching the air for Lin Zhengmo's trace. "Do you want a ride?"
Zhao Ming grins. "May I, Director?"
Jian Yue is silent, recalling Zhao Ming's words.
"Did she really say that?"
"Hm?" Zhao Ming is confused. What does she mean?
"She said it's her mom?"
"Yeah."
"Ah."
Jian Yue's brows relax, her eyes lighting with joy. If one looks closely, they'd see she's smiling—with her eyes.
Zhao Ming notices the change. "Director, what's Ms. Lin done to you?"
"Nothing."
Jian Yue strides to the corridor's end and stops, spotting Lin Zhengmo exiting the building, her white figure light and graceful.
Her steps slow, her gaze softening into admiration.
Her little ostrich is heading home...