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On the way back, Meng Yanxi didn’t fall asleep again.
It was already very late, almost ten o’clock. Pedestrians on the road were gradually thinning out, but the traffic was still dense, a trail of taillights stretching on. Inside the dim car, light occasionally shone in, briefly illuminating the man’s handsome, upright profile.
Meng Yanxi held his phone between his fingers, turning it absentmindedly, chatting with her now and then.
“When did you come back?”
“Early this year.”
“I went to your university last semester and didn’t see you.”
Jin Zhao said, “I spent half a year looking for a job after coming back. I didn’t start until the end of last semester.”
Meng Yanxi: “Even a returned PhD finds it this hard to get a job?”
Jin Zhao wrinkled her nose slightly. “It’s very cutthroat.”
Those two words were extremely heartfelt. Thinking back on those six months of job-hunting, it was like drinking a bowl of bitter, fishy, thick Chinese medicine—finally swallowing it all down, and never wanting to taste it a second time.
The air fell briefly into silence. Meng Yanxi asked again, “Researching poetry?”
Jin Zhao froze for a moment, then followed his gaze to the three textbooks she had placed by her side, and hurriedly said, “No, this is just an elective, a general education textbook.”
“I figured it wasn’t.”
Jin Zhao didn’t understand and asked, “Why?”
Meng Yanxi’s Adam’s apple moved slightly. It seemed like he wanted to say something, then held it back.
Jin Zhao suspected he probably had something vicious that almost slipped out, but considering that their relationship didn’t really count as close, he forcibly restrained himself.
But in the end, he still didn’t let her off lightly. He casually asked, “You’ve never reflected on this yourself?”
Jin Zhao: “……”
Reflected on it—of course she had.
It was precisely because she had self-awareness, knowing she was stiff as steel and unromantic. Taking general education courses was fine, but actively digging into the hidden depths and subtle turns buried in poetry would be especially difficult. That was why she hadn’t gone into poetry research.
But then again, reflecting on it herself was one thing. Being questioned like this by him—low damage, extremely insulting.
No wonder he was still single. Such a good-looking face, what a pity it came with a mouth.
One of his hands rested on his long legs, the phone in his hand constantly swaying, endlessly drawing her attention. Watching like this, she had originally wanted to take the initiative to ask to add him on WeChat. It would feel a bit awkward, but they were old classmates after all. He had also helped her—her proactively keeping in touch shouldn’t be too abrupt, right?
But now, better forget it. She was afraid of being poisoned to death by him.
The air fell into silence once more. Meng Yanxi cleared his throat lightly and asked again, “What do you research?”
Jin Zhao replied expressionlessly, “Steel.”
Meng Yanxi: “……”
She didn’t know whether he truly didn’t understand or was pretending not to. After three seconds of quiet, calm and unhurried, he asked in return, “How the Steel Was Tempered?”
Jin Zhao was choked for a split second, not knowing whether it was from the cold or because it was genuinely funny.
She answered honestly, “Researching Shakespeare.”
Meng Yanxi gave a low chuckle. “Isn’t that even more cutthroat than your job search?”
Jin Zhao: “……”
Even a layman like Meng Yanxi knew that researching Shakespeare was cutthroat. It seemed Shakespeare really was the most competitive research subject in academia—perhaps without exception.
It didn’t take long to reach the university. External vehicles needed to be registered in the system in advance to enter campus. It was already past ten at night, and Jin Zhao didn’t want to trouble Meng Yanxi any further, planning to get out at the gate and walk in herself.
But when the access system recognized Meng Yanxi’s license plate, it automatically let him through. His car drove straight into campus.
Jin Zhao was extremely shocked. Had even machines evolved to the point of currying favor with the powerful?
Meng Yanxi took the initiative to explain, “Meng Zhuxi gets into trouble every now and then. I come here often and got an annual pass at your place.”
Jin Zhao was a bit dazed and asked, “There’s such a thing as an annual pass?”
Meng Yanxi thought about it. “More or less that idea.”
The Suiyi Normal University campus was very large. From the west gate to the teachers’ dormitory where Jin Zhao lived would take over half an hour on foot. Fortunately, although the campus separated pedestrian and vehicle traffic, the main restricted areas were the teaching zones; cars could drive directly to the teachers’ dormitory buildings.
Dim yellow streetlights illuminated the red walls and gray tiles of the dormitory buildings, somewhat like the old-fashioned designs of Soviet architects from the last century. The dorms were built against the hillside, the air carrying the scent of grass and trees mixed with moisture.
Suiyi Normal University had several teachers’ dormitory compounds, both on and off campus. This was the smallest one, inside the campus, mainly for young teachers.
Meng Yanxi got out of the car and took the luggage from the trunk.
Jin Zhao hurried after him, reaching to take it. “I can take it up myself.”
Meng Yanxi pulled the suitcase handle back a step and pointed with his chin behind her. “Let’s go. It’s only a few more steps.”
The dorms were arranged in parallel, all facing the same direction, a bit like classroom layouts, just smaller. Outside the doors were balconies facing the courtyard. Jin Zhao’s dorm was on the first floor. It was actually her first time here. She turned on her phone flashlight and checked the doorplates one by one.
“136, here.” Jin Zhao stopped.
Meng Yanxi stopped beside her at the same time.
“Go in.” He pushed the suitcase toward her.
It was too late; it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to go in with her. With one hand in his pocket, he turned his phone in the other and said to her, “Goodbye.”
Afraid of disturbing the teachers resting on the lower floors, the dormitory building had no lights on at night. There was only a faint streetlamp at the courtyard entrance, and the all-night incandescent light spilling from the nearby building manager’s office. Deeper inside, the light had diminished to nothing.
Meng Yanxi stood facing her, the dim moonlight behind him outlining his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His eyes were very beautiful—very black, very dark.
With her back against the door, Jin Zhao’s heart suddenly began pounding hard.
She clenched the phone in her hand.
The words in her throat tried several times to come out, but she was still afraid to say them. And just thinking about what she was about to say made her heart feel as if it were about to leap out.
He had said that people from two different worlds would eventually part.
True, she and Wu Nian were from two different worlds—but was she and he any different?
He was heaven’s favored son, surrounded by admirers, donating a hundred million at the drop of a hand; while she was utterly ordinary. For more than twenty years she had done her utmost just to do her best, and at most had become an ordinary teacher at an ordinary university, earning a salary each month scarcely more than a verification code, her research topic still Shakespeare—so cutthroat that even he knew how competitive it was.
They, too, were people from two different worlds.
If they would eventually part, then was it really necessary to make a needless extra move and keep each other’s contact information?
She tried several times, her mouth opening, but in the end she still didn’t say it.
Meng Yanxi didn’t know where his patience came from. He didn’t speak, and he didn’t leave either—he just stood there in front of her, quietly watching her.
In such stillness, every extra second was awkward. In the end, Jin Zhao truly couldn’t bear the torment any longer. Gritting her teeth, she finally blurted it out directly: “Can we add each other on WeChat?”
Luckily it was dark. Otherwise, Meng Yanxi might have seen her perform an on-the-spot reddening.
But even with the darkness, she still didn’t dare look at him. She lowered her head, staring at the phone in his hand, and in one breath rattled off the high-sounding excuse: “Thank you so much for today. Words feel too pale, and I don’t really have money, so if possible, I’d like to write you a thank-you letter.”
This was the excuse she had wracked her brain to come up with on the way here. During that distracted journey, she had half-heartedly responded to him while at the same time struggling to bring out all her strength.
She didn’t know what Meng Yanxi thought, but she herself felt that this excuse was simply flawless.
Granted, they were people from two different worlds, but she wasn’t harboring any foolish delusions. She just wanted to write him a thank-you letter. He had helped her so much today—didn’t he deserve a thank-you letter? She herself had received thank-you letters before, and all she had done was help students with an essay that happened to appear on the June CET-4 exam, allowing them to pass.
If Meng Yanxi refused, then he would just be refusing her thank-you letter. The situation wouldn’t be awkward either.
Meng Yanxi fell silent.
When he had heard the first half of what she said, his thumb had already slid across the screen.
The phone screen lit up, then dimmed again.
“You shouldn’t change your research subject.” After a long while, Meng Yanxi said meaningfully.
No matter how many times Jin Zhao thought about it, she never could have imagined such a completely unrelated response. She lifted her eyes in astonishment. “Huh?”
Meng Yanxi’s long fingers swiftly unlocked the phone, tapped into the WeChat QR code, and handed it over. “Adding WeChat is fine. The thank-you letter isn’t necessary. We don’t have KPIs for that.”
With a “beep,” Jin Zhao, still in a daze, added Meng Yanxi on WeChat.
When she went inside, her heart was still pounding hard, her mind a tangled mess replaying Meng Yanxi’s reaction just now.
KPI—no, the sentence before that: shouldn’t change your research subject.
Had she changed her research subject? Hadn’t her research subject always been Shakespeare?
At this moment, she had completely forgotten that at the very beginning she had petulantly said she was researching steel.
Her heartbeat hadn’t settled yet. She raised her hand and fumbled around the wall for the light switch, not noticing the soft rustling sound coming from the floor in the still night.
Meng Yanxi left as soon as he saw her go inside, keeping to the boundary and not entering her room.
The Italian custom-made leather shoes stepped across the corridor tiles, producing a steady yet slightly light sound.
The phone was in his hand. On the WeChat interface was a line of small gray text: You have added Zhaozhao Mumu.
His long finger tapped open the other person’s profile picture.
It was a photo of herself, probably taken when she was still in the UK. In the background was a half-open medieval arched lattice door, beyond which green vines could be faintly seen hanging down over a stone balcony. Jin Zhao was comfortably curled up in a chair inside the room, holding an old English book in her hands. Light filtered through the door and gauze curtains, falling across her fair, sweet face. The tones were languid and gentle.
Meng Yanxi lightly tapped the photo twice with his long fingers, enlarging her image once more.
“Ah—” A sharp scream suddenly rang out from behind.
Meng Yanxi’s expression changed instantly. He turned around and sprinted back.
At ten thirty at night, Building No. 7 of the teachers’ dormitory erupted.
Jin Zhao sat in the building manager’s office, her face pale. Meng Yanxi stood beside her, looking very steady, as if forever unruffled, but Jin Zhao suspected he must have been frightened too.
After all, he was someone who was even afraid of spiders. Surely he would be even more afraid of snakes than she was?
A snake had gotten into the dormitory building.
The instant Jin Zhao turned on the light, she was caught completely off guard and met the crawling creature on the floor face-to-face, brightly illuminated, and screamed on the spot.
Suiyi Normal University sat at the foot of the mountains, with green hills and clear waters. The campus was large, the ecology excellent—people liked it, and animals liked it even more. The building manager immediately called the logistics and security staff. The university logistics department was very experienced with this sort of thing. In no time at all, they caught the snake. Before leaving, they even cheerfully held it up for Jin Zhao to see, saying, “It’s fine, no venom.”
Jin Zhao was startled again without warning, let out a small cry, and reflexively turned her head away.
Meng Yanxi happened to be standing at her side. The tip of her nose accidentally bumped into his abdominal muscles.
Very hard.
Jin Zhao’s mind went blank for a moment. She instinctively lifted her eyes, and the next second met the man’s dark, heavy gaze. Blood rushed straight to her cheeks.
The dormitory group chat exploded. A teacher took a photo and sent it to the group, saying it had already been dealt with and telling everyone not to worry.
It would’ve been better not to send it—once it was sent, those who hadn’t known were all frightened, and it instantly blew up.
—Don’t send pictures! Hurry and retract it!
—So scary! I just entered the campus and now I don’t dare go back. I’m leaving—I’ll just make do at the hotel across from the school tonight.
—I live in 135, right next door. Doors and windows tightly shut, I’m hiding under the covers shaking.
—Teacher in 135, how about getting up to check under the bed first hahaha!
—Get lost!
—I was planning to go home tomorrow. I’m calling my husband to come pick me up now.
……
The building manager soon came out to respond—please rest assured, teachers. It has already been reported. Tomorrow the logistics department will uniformly arrange the spraying of insect-repellent powder.
The discussion in the group quickly stopped.
The powder wouldn’t be sprayed until tomorrow. There was absolutely no way Jin Zhao dared to stay in that room tonight. In the end, she once again got into Meng Yanxi’s car, and he dropped her off on the way at the hotel across from the school.
In the car, seeing that Meng Yanxi was somewhat quiet, Jin Zhao apologized on her own initiative: “Sorry, I scared you.”
Meng Yanxi was probably silent for three seconds before turning his head to look at her. “Who told you I was scared?”
Jin Zhao looked a little innocent.
The closest hotel to the school was across from the south gate—a standard budget hotel, the facilities somewhat old. Jin Zhao’s ID was in her suitcase. Meng Yanxi told her not to trouble herself and used his own ID to help her check in.
Jin Zhao followed beside him, still uneasy, and confirmed once more: “You really weren’t scared?”
After all, the boys in their family seemed to be quite afraid of animals—one afraid of birds, one afraid of spiders.
Meng Yanxi cast her a cold glance.
Jin Zhao didn’t know why, but suddenly laughed, quickly turning her head away.
“Teacher Zhaozhao!” Someone suddenly called out to her from the side.
The girl was tall and slender, hair in a ponytail, holding hands with a tall, thin boy as they walked out of the elevator.
You really could tell they were college students. If they were middle schoolers, being out late at night with a boyfriend and running into a teacher, they’d have bolted on sight. College students, on the other hand, could greet their teacher openly and without hesitation.
Jin Zhao actually didn’t quite remember who the girl was. She had only been teaching for a month, the combined classes were large, and she had a bit of mild face blindness. But the other party’s reaction clearly showed she was her own student, so Jin Zhao smiled warmly and replied, “Hello to you both.”
The girl tugged her boyfriend closer and said naturally to Jin Zhao, “My boyfriend came to see me during the National Day holiday. He just got off the high-speed rail, so we’re going to grab something to eat first.”
Jin Zhao said, “Go on, be careful.”
At this moment, Meng Yanxi finished checking in, took the room card from the front desk, and turned around. The girl’s gaze happened to collide with his face. Her eyes lit up instantly, and she let out a “wow” on the spot.
“Teacher, your boyfriend is so handsome!” The outgoing female college student did not stint on praise.
Jin Zhao froze, not yet having processed it, when the girl cast a meaningful look at the room card in Meng Yanxi’s hand, suddenly winked at Jin Zhao, and said, “Teacher Zhaozhao, congratulations on getting out of being single! You two should also be careful!”
By the time Jin Zhao realized that this “be careful” was probably referring to taking precautions and not ending up with a human life, the girl was already happily running off, clinging to her boyfriend’s arm.
