The campus was not particularly crowded.
Zhang Shutong watched the withered tree by the school gate as the second-to-last leaf fell from its branches.
"Shutong, do you have something to say to me?" Mr. Song turned around, looking puzzled. "I noticed you dismissed everyone else the moment we finished lunch. Normally, you guys would hang around and chat for ages. What's going on today?"
Zhang Shutong did not rush to speak. He noticed that Mr. Song 's voice sounded weak and thoroughly drained of energy. During lunch, Song Nanshan had barely touched his chopsticks, setting them down after picking at a few pieces of green vegetables and tofu. He hadn't even dipped them into his sauce, explaining that the doctor had instructed him to stick to a bland diet recently and that plain boiled vegetables were best.
The man resembled that tree in the cold wind—tall, but already withered.
Zhang Shutong quickly banished this ominous comparison from his mind and told Mr. Song , "This isn't the place to talk. Let's go to the library."
Mr. Song remained somewhat perplexed and asked, "Why are you making such a big mystery out of it? Wouldn't it be fine if you called Qiumian and the others so we could all head over there and chat together?"
His thinking was no longer as sharp as it used to be. Mr. Song had always been a master of interpersonal dynamics. In the past, he would have realized in the blink of an eye that there was more to the situation than met the eye, but now he merely raised an eyebrow, having filled in the blanks with who knows what.
"Oh, I see. I've already told you guys that you don't need to miss me too much. Why get so sentimental? Your teacher is just going away for a bit; it's not like I won't come back to visit you in the future."
Mr. Song chuckled.
"Shutong, to be completely honest, I discovered today that I'm actually pretty popular. So many kids are reluctant to see me go. You know, humans are such fussy, contradictory creatures. Even though I hoped you guys wouldn't be affected by the change in teachers—after all, it's already your fourth year of middle school, right?—and that it would be best to just act as if I don't exist and listen to your Teacher Xu from now on, coming over today made me realize that some of the kids couldn't even help but cry. If your teacher said he felt happy deep down, it might make him sound a bit twisted, but to use an internet phrase, it really warmed my heart."
He said with a smug, satisfied expression:
"Yeah, it really warmed my heart."
Zhang Shutong stumbled slightly in his steps. Seeing a man pushing thirty repeatedly using a phrase like "warmed my heart" while scratching the stubble on his chin with a blissful, foolish grin made him look even more twisted.
Song Nanshan pulled out a cigarette. His body hadn't recovered yet, so he coughed violently a few times when he smoked. It was mostly just to satisfy a craving; afterward, he merely held it between his fingers without puffing, watching the smoke drift aimlessly. The campus was wide and empty, and Mr. Song 's civic-mindedness wasn't entirely perfect either.
If that large drainage hole was Zhang Shutong's base, then the Fox sedan had been Mr. Song 's base. He usually huddled inside it whenever he smoked. Now that his base was gone, it didn't matter much to a man, but it made his silhouette look rather lonely from behind.
"Still, it's a real pity," Mr. Song glanced at the teaching building not far away. "In the end, I wasn't able to accompany you guys to finish this stretch of the journey."
The drifting smoke in the cold wind brushed against Zhang Shutong's face, making him instinctively blink.
The primary and middle schools in this entire city followed the five-four educational system. Thanks to this bizarre system, middle school teachers who wanted to guide a cohort of students from start to finish had to spend a year longer than teachers in other regions.
Duh, four years was obviously a year longer than three years, but the point was, how many four-year periods did one have in life?
Mr. Song was twenty-eight this year. Counting backward to when they were in their first year of middle school, he would have been twenty-four, and before twenty-four was twenty. Of course, he hadn't started working back then. Zhang Shutong occasionally heard him talk about his past experiences working in the city, from which he could roughly deduce that Mr. Song 's career path had always been unstable and drifting. Moving from the city to the island, and now leaving the island, it couldn't have been easy to let go. As Zhang Shutong thought about it, he began to feel a bit sentimental himself, but Mr. Song finally noticed that something was amiss.
"Speaking of which, don't tell me your reason for looking for me is..."
The man stood in place, knitted his brows, and said in pleasant surprise:
"Don't tell me everyone secretly prepared a gift for me at the library?"
Zhang Shutong nearly suffered an internal injury from holding back his reaction again. Talking to some people required a lot of brainpower, but dealing with his beloved teacher purely strained his heart; his mood swung up and down like a roller coaster. He had no choice but to say awkwardly that it wasn't the case. Mr. Song merely patted him on the shoulder and said, "Just joking. My return this time was so sudden; even if you guys really intended to, you wouldn't have had the time to prepare."
The two walked slowly toward the library. The lazy afternoon atmosphere rose around them, resembling the moments before that hot pot at noon began to boil.
The scent of hot pot still lingered on Zhang Shutong's clothes, and it would take quite a long time to completely dissipate.
In truth, that lunch meal hadn't been eaten with much joy. It wasn't the cheerful farewell banquet they had imagined where everyone clinked glasses. The other students in the class couldn't bear to part with Mr. Song , let alone the few of them. Ruoping had rarely stayed silent; she was usually chattering away on such occasions, but today she had kept her head down, taking tiny bites of her food. As she ate, who knows what crossed her mind, but she claimed that the soup base had splattered into her eyes and used a tissue to wipe them.
Qingyi never said much in these settings either. In the past, he would always sit next to Zhang Shutong and whisper about other things in a low voice, but today the two were seated a bit far apart. Qingyi silently kept pouring water for Mr. Song , continuing until Mr. Song said awkwardly that he really couldn't drink any more. He let out a sigh and took the pitcher away, leaving Mr. Song feeling quite embarrassed. Mr. Song then gritted his teeth and said, "Pour it, pour it, I'll have another glass," drinking a glass of plain boiled water with the tragic intensity of a drinking contest.
Among the few of them, Ruoping and Du Kang were the best at livening up the atmosphere, but since Du Kang was absent today, the mood at the dining table had sunk low like this.
Gu Qiumian was seated next to Zhang Shutong. They had exchanged a few words at the beginning, but eventually fell silent one after the other. Gu Qiumian was also a bit sad. One had to realize that they had spent most of their time last weekend inside that small Fox car, with Mr. Song practically revolving entirely around the two of them.
But the young miss could do nothing about this kind of departure. It had nothing to do with whether her family could mobilize any influence or connections.
Song Nanshan's home wasn't in the neighboring city, but somewhere much further away.
It wasn't as if he could just take a boat back to the island at any time after leaving this time.
They didn't have a formal class group chat, only ones that the students had set up privately. So Ruoping had created a new group chat on the spot, planning to pull everyone back in after returning home to maintain contact in the future. Aside from that, there wasn't much else they could do. Whether it was QQ or phone numbers, all four of them possessed Mr. Song 's contact information. Everyone promised to definitely stay in touch in the future. Mr. Song smiled and said to Ruoping, "In the future, when you guys go fishing again, remember to send a photo to your teacher." There were no lakes back in his hometown, so his hands would inevitably itch for it; it would serve to satisfy his craving just by looking.
Afterward, he encouraged Gu Qiumian, "If you go to sing, Qiumian, remember to record it when you perform well. Your teacher will also post it in his Qzone to show off. When people ask which little celebrity it is, I'll say this is my student—isn't she amazing?"
In reality, there was no such thing as satisfying a craving or showing off; his heart simply felt empty.
Of the six plates of mutton, only two were eaten in the end. The remaining four plates were returned by Zhang Shutong before they were even brought to the table.
What brought sadness perhaps wasn't eating a farewell meal, but rather not even having the heart to finish it.
A few students also walked past the campus. The news of Mr. Song 's return still suffered from a certain time lag. Those students used to belong to Class 1 but had now been assigned to other classes, and they didn't know the news of Song Nanshan's return yet. Upon seeing Mr. Song , everyone eagerly asked how his health was, so Mr. Song stopped to explain to them slowly. As the crowd grew larger, Zhang Shutong finally thought of a compromise, suggesting that they all head to the library to talk. It would provide a quiet space, and the teacher wouldn't have to stand outside blowing in the wind. Those students went to notify the others, while Zhang Shutong and Song Nanshan continued their pace.
"Take it slow, some things can't be rushed," Mr. Song advised him.
Zhang Shutong nodded and said alright. In fact, he only half-understood the meaning behind those words. Soon they arrived inside the library. A water dispenser sat in the corner. Zhang Shutong turned on the air conditioner, found a disposable paper cup, and filled it with hot water—one-third boiling water mixed with two-thirds cold water, making the temperature just right. The days of recklessly pouring hot water were gone, never to return.
Looking at that cup of warm water, Mr. Song lamented:
"Even though your teacher doesn't have children yet, they always say a daughter is like a cozy quilted jacket, while a son is like a leaky one. I finally understand that saying today."
When Zhang Shutong asked what he meant, Mr. Song let out a melancholy hiccup and said, "Even though you and Qingyi mean well, why do you only know how to force-feed your master with water? I'm honestly on the verge of vomiting from drinking so much. Sit down, sit down. Let's talk for a bit, stop running around everywhere."
It seemed that the phrase "drink more hot water" shouldn't just be avoided with girls, but with teachers as well.
Out of nowhere, Mr. Song said:
"When I arrived today, I first went to see Teacher Xu to find out about your situation."
Zhang Shutong didn't know what tricks his beloved teacher had up his sleeve. Could it be that he wanted to lecture him one last time before leaving?
Fortunately, Zhang Shutong had been studying diligently recently. Just as he was preparing to present his achievements, Mr. Song 's next sentence nearly choked him to death:
"Are you and Qinglian in a puppy love relationship?"
"No."
Zhang Shutong regretted not adding a bit more hot water to the paper cup; it would have cooled down by the time Mr. Song drank it anyway.
He thought to himself, No matter how many things change, that gossipy heart of yours remains completely unchanged. Heaven knows why Mr. Song acted so sheepish when bringing this up:
"Shutong, you must absolutely avoid developing a hostile mentality toward Teacher Xu. She's also doing this for your own good..."
Zhang... Shutong didn't know what to say either. He let out a sigh and was just about to explain, when Mr. Song let out a sigh as well:
"Do you know who your teacher is most worried about leaving behind this time?"
Zhang Shutong instinctively wanted to say Gu Qiumian, but then he recalled that Gu Qiumian's interpersonal relationships had changed this time, so in Mr. Song 's eyes, she might not necessarily be the one who required concern.
"Let's talk about the few of you first. Ruoping looks brash and fiery, but her mind is actually very sensitive. Don't just treat her as a careless girl; take more care of her feelings. Qingyi has always been a principled kid, but he's just too calm; he's better at coming up with ideas rather than being the one to make the final decision. That kid Du Kang is even less of an issue; in any case, I haven't seen him harbor any worries over these past three years and more. Of course, when you guys gather together, you're capable of pulling off anything. Fortunately, the three of them are willing to listen to you, so I'm merely giving you a few extra pieces of advice.
"Regarding Qiumian, you know about her family matters now too. But to put it rather bluntly, even if we know, we can't do anything about it; we can't help, nor can we cause trouble. I'm not saying to just ignore her, but Qiumian is actually a very resilient girl. Don't always underestimate her, or you'll suffer for it in the future."
Mr. Song paused for a moment:
"In fact, among all these students, the one I'm most worried about is actually Qinglian. You might find it very strange—Qinglian's grades have always been first, she never causes trouble, and she likes to keep to herself. What's there to worry about with a personality like that? But precisely because of this, she's the one I'm most worried about instead.
"I remember telling you before that although we advocate respecting other people's faiths nowadays, it's not a long-term solution for her to stay on the island forever. She can't just be a temple keeper for the rest of her life. She'll have to attend high school and university eventually; staying cooped up on this island forever would really be doing her an injustice."
Mr. Song said fretfully:
"Look, she still lives a rather harsh life. She doesn't even own a bicycle, relying on walking to come to and leave school every single day, whether it's windy or raining. Let me let you in on another secret, but don't tell anyone I said so—"
Zhang Shutong instinctively pricked up his ears, but Mr. Song said:
"Have you guys ever seen Qinglian during lunch in the past? As far as I know, she always runs off to the rooftop to eat by herself."
Zhang Shutong thought to himself, I've known that for a long time. I thought you were about to say something major.
Mr. Song added:
"Once when it rained, she didn't go to the rooftop, and I happened to run into her eating in the classroom. How should I put it... it won't starve a person, but it has absolutely nothing to do with being delicious or nutritious. I originally thought her family conditions were exceptionally poor, but Qinglian told me that wasn't the case; rather, it's just how they eat as temple keepers. Of course, she wasn't willing to say much either, so I could only interpret it in my own way. Perhaps it's related to her faith too? For instance, aren't monks forbidden from eating meat? Their temple might not be that strict, but it probably isn't much better either.
"When I brought you guys out for meals, there were many times I wanted to call her along. First, I wanted you guys to make friends with one another so she wouldn't be so lonely all by herself, and second, it was to improve her diet a bit. But she refused every single time, so I rarely brought it up later."
Only now did Zhang Shutong belatedly recall something—
It seemed Lu Qinglian had come out quite easily this time.
It wouldn't be strange for anyone else—having a meal with classmates and teachers was perfectly normal—but for Lu Qinglian, it was simply too abnormal. One had to realize that in the past, Ruoping had directly and indirectly invited her several times, only to be flatly refused every single time.
The only exception was that time Mr. Song treated them at the mall, but that was more of a coincidence. He had a fever, and Lu Qinglian's foot required rest. It just so happened that Mr. Song called them, and the two simply needed a place to go, rather than having a gathering in mind.
Aside from that, he didn't seem to have ever seen Lu Qinglian participate in any group activities.
"So when Qinglian came out this time, I was quite surprised too," Mr. Song cracked a joke. "Maybe she's showing some respect because she sees her teacher is about to leave?"
Zhang Shutong held a different view on this matter; he felt that what Mr. Song said was precisely the truth.
Lu Qinglian was a person who didn't get close to anyone, but it also varied in degree.
Just like yesterday on the rooftop, she had followed him to the dormitory building without the slightest hesitation. Normally, for someone with such a faint curiosity like Lu Qinglian, if that person hadn't potentially been related to Mr. Song , never mind just walking away and pretending she hadn't seen anything—based on Zhang Shutong's understanding of her—at most she would have gone down the rooftop to find another teacher and give a reminder:
"Someone is jumping off the building, better call emergency services."
Lu Qinglian still respected Song Nanshan highly as her homeroom teacher, but it wasn't surprising either; human interactions were inherently a process of give and take.
Mr. Song had always looked out for her. Just based on what lingered in Zhang Shutong's memory—for instance, whenever she mentioned needing to return to the temple for something, Mr. Song never pressed for a reason, waving his hand to grant her leave readily and cheerfully. By contrast, now that he was replaced by Teacher Xu, Lu Qinglian would likely face some headaches in the future.
Every year during the parent-teacher meetings, the opening remarks for their class would always consist of pouring massive praise upon Lu Qinglian. Mr. Song would stand on the podium, talking until his spit flew everywhere, and ten minutes would pass by the time he finished a speech. While other classes had long since begun reading out the exam results, their class would still be stuck on how Classmate Lu Qinglian was doing this and that. It was absolutely not because Lu Qinglian had good grades, but because her seat was always empty; it was more like he was backing her up in front of all the parents and students.
Furthermore, whenever they encountered severe weather during dismissal or arrival, he would drive his small car to give her a ride. Zhang... Shutong remembered Mr. Song mentioning that he had even wanted to dip into his own pocket to buy Lu Qinglian a bicycle, but the girl hadn't accepted it.
And this was just what he could see; there was far more that remained unseen.
Zhang Shutong felt that Lu Qinglian actually possessed a certain stubborn persistence in some areas. For example, if someone treated her well, she would stubbornly believe that she had to return the favor. Like that time they discovered the long-haired woman's footprints on the mountain-circling road and went to the villa together for a meal. By then, Lu Qinglian had already confirmed that the footprints didn't belong to that "fake Lu Qinglian," meaning the basis for their cooperation was technically gone, and Gu Qiumian's safety didn't have much to do with her either. Yet because she had eaten a lunch and even curiously picked up a few extra pieces of king oyster mushrooms with her chopsticks, she felt she owed Gu Qiumian a favor. Thus, running around for an entire day despite carrying an injury felt entirely justified to her.
If Boss Gu knew that a single plate of stir-fried king oyster mushrooms could secure a bodyguard who was easily worth four or five regular ones on her own, who knew what he would think.
Zhang Shutong didn't know what Lu Qinglian thought about Mr. Song 's departure either. At the dining table she had merely eaten her food silently. Perhaps in her eyes, this was her way of seeing him off. When everyone promised to stay in touch often, she couldn't join the conversation either—she didn't even own a cell phone.
"And her grandmother's attitude over there is hard to say too. I always get the feeling that she doesn't quite approve of Qinglian attending school," Mr. Song muttered. "In any case, I feel like this matter is pretty off, but it wasn't easy to say anything before, and by the time I wanted to say something, it was too late. Of course, it's still the same phrase—it's not like I won't come back, I'll definitely see you guys again next semester."
Mr. Song spoke earnestly:
"So, Shutong, let's set aside the puppy love thing for now. I heard from Ruoping that if it hadn't been for Qinglian this time, things would have likely gone terribly for you. You wouldn't have been able to handle such a sinister thing on your own, right? I'm not trying to morally blackmail you, but I'm saying that if conditions permit, keep an eye out for any areas where Qinglian might need help, and look after her a bit more."
Zhang Shutong raised no objections, but he felt that this kind of thing was easy to say but hard to do. Lu Qinglian wasn't someone who would easily accept help from others.
Furthermore, he felt that Lu Qinglian was quite... how should he put it? She was a person whose lack of desires made her unyielding. Mr. Song , however, said:
"Wrong!"
After an unknown stretch of time, Zhang Shutong listened to his beloved teacher's instruction once again.
He added:
"But don't misunderstand. This 'wrong' is still a bit different from when I used the example of Qiumian in the past. What I mean is, Qinglian isn't necessarily as detached from the mortal world as she appears on the surface."
Zhang Shutong asked if he could elaborate in detail.
Mr. Song happened to pick up an unreturned book from the table at that moment:
"Some people are like a book; you have to flip through it slowly on your own. It only becomes interesting when you read it page by page; how boring would it be if it were spelled out... Alright, the truth is I don't understand either, it's just an intuitive feeling. Don't just look at the surface of things; you kid are just too easily trapped by the shell on the outside. Don't be attached to appearances."
Zhang Shutong didn't know how a single hospital stay had transformed his teacher from an expert in relationship studies into a philosopher, whereas he himself had lain in the hospital for a few days with nothing to show for it—except for gaining a baffling case of anxiety instead.
"Alright, alright," Mr. Song let out a yawn. "This is the final lesson your teacher will give you. I'll wait for those kids to come over and say farewell, and then it'll be time for me to leave. If anything comes up, just stay in touch by phone."
"So soon?"
Zhang Shutong had digested the news of Mr. Song 's departure, but he hadn't expected the man to be unable to stay on the island for even a single day.
"Yeah, otherwise why would I call you guys out for lunch at noon?" Mr. Song smiled and pointed at his own temple. "You're so smart, so how come you didn't notice something was off this time? I specifically chose midday because I have to catch today's boat out of the island. Otherwise, wouldn't it have been much better to have dinner at night? The time would be more flexible, and everyone could say a few more words."
"But why do you absolutely have to leave the island today?"
"Something happened at home. My mom's health isn't very good and she needs to undergo surgery. It was very sudden; I just booked the ticket this morning." Mr. Song 's face revealed no expression when he said this phrase. "Shutong, once you reach my age, you really lose the ability to act willfully. Birth, old age, sickness, and death—not a single one of them can be avoided."
"But you don't need to worry about me either, it's not a major issue, but I definitely have to go home and take a look. Otherwise, I would have preferred to stay in the hospital for a few more days since it can be reimbursed, which is quite comfortable," Mr. Song muttered. "I noticed the nurses at the county hospital are quite young; that part is much better than on the island."
He reverted to his un-serious demeanor.
Certain words had to be said eventually, so Zhang Shutong asked his teacher a few more questions.
When the two parted ways at the entrance of the library, Zhang Shutong stepped into the empty campus. Behind him, Mr. Song called out:
"Shutong—"
Zhang Shutong turned his head around, prepared to hear whatever un-serious words he was about to say.
Mr. Song , however, said with rare solemnity:
"It's not quite appropriate for me to say this phrase to you, it makes it sound like I'm lacking respect for boundaries, but there's actually one more person your teacher is worried about leaving behind...
"Take care."