That night, his mother didn't sleep a wink, tirelessly working through documents, computers, and phone calls. Aware of the severity of the situation, I didn't disturb her. If this crisis couldn't be resolved, Xiashi would face only two outcomes: being swallowed by Mingshuo or declaring bankruptcy.
Watching my mother flustered and overwhelmed, I was filled with self-blame and regret. After successfully countering Mingshuo once, I had become complacent and had been indulging in distractions like my mother's stockings these past few days. I had been too careless. If only I had been more vigilant and reminded my mother, this crisis wouldn't have caught us so off guard.
Burdened by these thoughts, I dozed off in the small room next to the office. The next morning, the secretary found me when she arrived for work and woke me up. My mother learned about it too, touched that I had stayed with her overnight in the adjacent room. However, she was utterly exhausted and could only manage a brief, weak greeting before nearly collapsing. Her once radiant face now bore traces of fatigue, and in just one night, she seemed to have grown noticeably thinner.
The recent pressures had truly worn her down. Just as she had begun to relax, this blow struck, and the stark contrast only intensified its impact.
The secretary and I helped my mother into her office, and after instructing the secretary to take care of her, I left for school.
Having slept poorly the previous night, I was lethargic during class. Teacher Han Yan noticed and called me to her office after class to ask what was wrong. Perhaps my nerves were frayed, and in an uncharacteristic moment of vulnerability, I ended up telling her everything that had happened. She listened with a furrowed brow, clearly empathizing with the crisis my mother, the company, and I were facing. After a long pause, as if hesitating, she unexpectedly shared some incredible news with me.
It turned out that Teacher Han was the daughter of a wealthy businessman from Jiangnan. Unhappy with the life her family had planned for her, she had taken the exams and come to Mocuo on her own. Since No. 1 High School was one of the top schools in Mocuo, with a robust system and government support, her family couldn't extend their influence there. She had settled down here, but without their protection, she had become vulnerable to people like Gao Tianjian's advances. Otherwise, given her family background, Gao Tianjian would never have dared to target her.
If she had her father pull some strings, it wouldn't be a problem at all to gather top-tier cosmetic researchers for Xia Shi. Her father was primarily involved in investments, with connections across various industries, and he knew many influential figures in the cosmetics field.
But just as I thought the problem was about to be resolved, the teacher hesitated and seemed reluctant to speak further.
That's right—if she were willing to sacrifice her own freedom, return to her family, and accept her father's arrangements, she could indeed help my mother and me. But why should she?
Right?
Why should she?
She and I aren't related in any way. What reason could there be for her to sacrifice her precious freedom just to help me?
What would she gain from helping me?
Money?
To her, such things are worthless compared to freedom.
I didn't try to guilt-trip the teacher. It's perfectly understandable if she doesn't want to help. Although I did save her once, that alone isn't enough to obligate her. Moreover, using that as leverage to ask for her help would be shameful—I refuse to do it.
But then I noticed something new. The teacher who had confided everything to me seemed to have reopened a long-sealed door in her heart, and she became melancholic and weary again. At that moment, I wondered: if I could soothe her emotions and help her completely step out of this shadow, would the difficulties between my mother and me also be resolved effortlessly?
Having made up my mind, I decided to take advantage of the teacher's previous invitation and accompany her to her home to cook dinner tonight. Spending time alone together would be a great opportunity and a good way to strengthen our relationship, making it easier to open her heart and have her confide in me.
The teacher didn't refuse my suggestion to have dinner at her place tonight—after all, it was something she had originally proposed.
After school, we went to the market together. Before heading out, I accompanied her to the faculty dormitory to change her clothes. True to her origins from the Jiangnan water towns, the teacher carried an innate gentleness and elegance that others couldn't imitate or fake. She wore a pink chiffon blouse that perfectly accentuated her curves—full bust and slender waist—paired with a light brown bodycon skirt. Her straight, slender legs were clad in semi-transparent nude stockings, and the fading glow of the evening sun at around five or six o'clock gave her legs a dewy sheen. On her feet were seven-centimeter high-heeled sandals, revealing ten delicate toes, neatly arranged like silkworms beneath the transparent fabric of her stockings, with a faint, healthy glow visible on her toenails.
For a moment, it felt as though the person before me wasn't the dignified and proper language teacher I remembered, but a renowned celebrity trying to experience life among ordinary people. She seemed to radiate a sacred and beautiful aura, making her stand out starkly against the noisy, grimy market. I was genuinely afraid that her clean, smooth nude stockings would get splashed with even a speck of the market's dirt and grime—it would truly be a waste of something so exquisite.
The teacher tapped her foot lightly and smiled at me, her bright, beautiful eyes sparkling with a certain glow, as if she was genuinely happy to have someone accompany her to the market. Yet, in every gesture, there was a sense of restraint—never crossing boundaries, never drawing attention—a reflection of the reserve befitting a lady of good upbringing.
I walked around the market with her, her youthful figure brimming with vitality. By the end, I was utterly exhausted, but she was still full of energy. It wasn't until I couldn't take it anymore that she reluctantly stopped.
But this effort wasn't in vain. I could sense that she had opened up to me a little, though it was still far from enough.
When we arrived at her home, I learned that aside from the faculty dormitory at school, she also owned an apartment in a nearby residential area. She was quite well-off—ordinary people in Shanghai could hardly afford to buy property, and many couldn't even scrape together a down payment in a lifetime. This also spoke to her intelligence and capability, proving she could live well on her own without relying on her family's support.
Her home was decorated warmly, and as I stepped inside, I felt some of my weariness fade away. In the living room, a few books with bookmarks lay scattered on the sofa. She smiled at me, tidied them up, and invited me to sit.
"When I'm at home, I usually watch TV or read. I'm quite a boring person," she said. "I'll start cooking now. If you're bored, feel free to watch some TV. I'll turn it on for you."
With that, she turned on the TV, which was still on the drama channel she had been watching last time. I never expected that someone as intellectual and capable as Teacher Han Yan still had a girlish, romantic side—she was actually watching a Korean high school romance drama.
She smiled at me, switched to a military channel, and handed me the remote. "I'm not sure what you like to watch. Feel free to change it if you want."
When it came to social interactions, Teacher Han Yan seemed quite inexperienced—evident from her naive assumption that all boys enjoyed watching military programs.
Under her puzzled gaze, I turned off the TV and smiled at her. "Let me help you in the kitchen. The sooner we get dinner ready, the better—I'm getting hungry."
She smiled back. Though she didn't say anything, I could sense her happiness.
Everything in the kitchen with her felt warm and cozy. For a fleeting moment, it felt as if we were a long-married couple, perfectly in sync, with the husband leading and the wife following.
Being in such close quarters with such a stunning beauty inevitably made my heart race. My eyes kept drifting toward her long, slender legs encased in sheer stockings, and I couldn't help but imagine pouncing on them for a playful nibble. Lost in the cheerful atmosphere, the teacher remained unaware of my lingering gaze, and I reveled in the moment.
My mind wandered further, fantasizing about what lay beyond those perfect stocking-clad legs, beneath the thin fabric of her skirt.
It wasn't until Teacher Han Yan patted me and called, "Xia Ming, Xia Ming..."
"Huh? What is it, teacher?"
"What are you thinking about? You're even drooling. Can't wait to taste my cooking, huh?"
I laughed awkwardly and wiped my mouth. "Yeah, the aroma alone has already whetted my appetite."
"Pfft, you really know how to flatter!"
"I've always had good taste."
"How come I never noticed before that you're such an interesting person? I only knew you as a top student with excellent character and grades. I didn't realize you had this side to you."
"If you're interested, you can get to know me better. After all, I'm right here, and we have plenty of time tonight."
"Hmm, it's almost done. Want to try a bite?" Han Yan picked up a piece of braised pork with her chopsticks and held it out to me.
I opened my mouth and ate the meat with an "ah." Whether it was because of Han Yan or not, the flavor was surprisingly exquisite, though the pork itself wasn't particularly remarkable.
After feeding me, Han Yan used the same chopsticks to pick up a piece for herself. As the juicy, crimson braised pork slowly approached her delicate, rosy lips, I found myself momentarily entranced.
What struck me most was that she used the chopsticks she had just fed me with, seemingly unbothered by the traces of my saliva.
She didn't seem to notice, and I didn't bring it up to avoid awkwardness. Secretly, though, I felt a smug satisfaction—after all, the beautiful teacher had eaten braised pork touched by my saliva.
Once everything was ready, we set the dishes on the table and sat facing each other. Teacher Han Yan opened a bottle of red wine and filled our glasses. "Cheers!"
I smiled and responded, "Cheers!"
The meal was elegant and refined. Teacher Han Yan even played soft music in the living room. We talked about everything—from our births to the present, studies, work, relationships, and life. Secrets spilled out effortlessly, one after another, leaving no time to think about how to backtrack. The conversation flowed with unprecedented ease and comfort. I was certain now that Teacher Han Yan had truly opened her heart to me.
After the meal, Teacher Han Yan, who had a low tolerance for alcohol but had indulged heavily, slumped over the table and fell asleep. I draped a coat over her, cleaned up the aftermath, and went alone to the balcony of her apartment to get some air.
Hanging there were some of her clothes, including intimate items like bras, panties, and stockings. As if possessed, I picked them up and gently sniffed them. The lingering fragrance of laundry detergent mixed with her natural scent was intoxicating, making me feel as if I were floating. I glanced back into the room and was instantly startled—she was no longer in her seat!
When I looked again, I realized she was standing right behind me, her eyes fixed directly on me. For a moment, I almost cried out but managed to hold it back.
Upon closer inspection, her gaze was hazy, clearly still groggy from sleep and not fully conscious. Seizing the opportunity, I quickly hung the stockings and panties back in place, then opened the balcony door and walked over to pat her gently. Gradually, she came to her senses and gave me an unreserved smile.
In that moment, my heart stirred. Gazing at her delicate lips, flushed cheeks, and dreamy eyes, I longed to pull her into an embrace, but I restrained myself.
She led me to the balcony, resting her fair, smooth arms on the railing. The bars pressed against her chest, making it appear even fuller and more pronounced. "Xia Ming, today... I'm really happy."
My hand naturally settled on her slender waist. I wasn't sure what gave me the right to do so, but I did it anyway, and she didn't refuse. "I'm happy too."
"Do you have a girlfriend?"
I hesitated for a moment, instinctively wanting to say no, but then an image of my mother flashed through my mind. "Yes."
"Heh, I thought so. Someone as outstanding as you couldn't possibly be single. So many girls at school like you... Is it Chen Xixuan?"
"No."
"Oh? So you're hiding a beauty away somewhere?"
She laughed, thinking herself witty, but I caught a flicker of sadness in her eyes.
"I've decided—I'm going to help you!" she said with sudden excitement.
I was taken aback but quickly composed myself. This was something I had anticipated.
"Xia Ming." Her voice trembled slightly.
"Yes?"
"For the next few days, let's keep things just like this, until I leave. Okay?"
"No problem."
That night, the wind was strong. This young teacher, only twenty-five years old, slept soundly on my shoulder. I wasn't her boyfriend, and she wasn't my girlfriend. The roles of student and teacher didn't stop us from sharing an intimacy akin to lovers.
In a few days, she would leave to live the life her family had arranged for her. Meanwhile, my mother and I, having overcome the company's crisis, would continue to mend our gradually healing relationship.
Some relationships are destined to be like two intersecting lines—starting from distant, unknown places, briefly converging midway, only to part ways and drift apart in the end.
Having grown up lonely for over twenty years, she had suddenly found a kindred spirit and naturally wanted to turn that connection into a partnership. Unfortunately, the timing was off. Just as her heart began to open, his already belonged to another. So, the one who unlocked her heart was fated to firmly close the door in the end.
I admit I have some affection for Han Yan—she is a beautiful and remarkable woman, and no man could remain unmoved. But my heart has long been occupied by another noble and aloof figure. The limited space within my heart is entirely taken up by that woman, leaving no room for me to love another.
"You were born before me, I was born when you had grown old."
This line is poignant, but in my case, it should be rephrased:
"In this life, I have already met the one; I only regret we met at the wrong time"
I'm sorry, Professor Han Yan.
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