The atmosphere in the second half of the Chinese class was unusually tense. Teacher Gao didn’t leave the classroom but also didn’t speak, as if lost in another world. The students quietly reviewed their lessons, unlike usual when they would whisper or fidget. Even those who were normally hyperactive seemed to be reading seriously—though whether they were actually absorbing anything was another matter.
Lin Fang took advantage of this time to quickly sketch a table in her notebook. She wanted to summarize the main content and key points of the Chinese lessons from the past half-semester. Later, after school, she’d find time to give it to Rouqiu (Meatball), and in the afternoon, she’d prepare summaries for the other subjects for him.
That guy, relying on the fact that he could take over his father’s job after retirement, wasn’t worried about having nothing to do. He was just killing time at school—eating and sleeping all day, copying others’ homework. With the exam tomorrow, it wasn’t that he’d completely fail, but if left to his own devices, falling far below the passing line was a certainty. Since childhood, Lin Fang had always summarized key points and prepared typical practice questions for him a day or two before exams, forcing him to cram at the last minute.
“Lin Fang, you seem quite busy. May I see what you’re working on?”
Teacher Gao, weren’t you meditating just now? Why the sudden interest in little old me? At eighty years old, couldn’t your eyesight be a bit worse? Grumbling inwardly, Lin Fang stood up, planning to squeeze past Zhang Jiejun to hand the table to the teacher’s desk.
Each row in the classroom had eight students. Two desks were pushed against each side wall, while four desks were placed side by side in the middle, leaving two aisles. Lin Fang sat in the middle, next to Zhang Jiejun, who was next to the aisle.
Teacher Gao waved his hand. “No need for that trouble. Just pass it forward. Sit, sit.”
Since you’re being so polite, I’ll follow your orders. Lin Fang handed the notebook with the table to the boy in front of her, “Bai Bulao” (White but Not Old), who then passed it to Teacher Gao.
“Bai Bulao” was the local name for a type of green bean. Ordinary green beans would be too tough to eat once their skins turned white, but this variety remained tender even when pale. The boy in front of Lin Fang was only fifteen but already had salt-and-pepper hair—a premature graying. Some mischievous classmate had nicknamed him “Bai Bulao,” and aside from roll call, no one used his real name.
By now, the students had lost interest in reviewing. Their eyes darted between Lin Fang and Teacher Gao, some even waiting gleefully for her to be scolded.
After studying the table for a moment, Teacher Gao closed the notebook but didn’t return it. Instead, he stood up, gathered his textbooks, and said, “Lin Fang, come with me to the office.”
The already quiet classroom fell completely silent, not even the sound of pages turning. For a moment, Lin Fang basked in the spotlight of everyone’s attention.
She felt utterly baffled. She hadn’t broken any rules—why was she being summoned to the office?
As soon as Lin Fang followed Teacher Gao out, the classroom erupted in chatter. The class monitor hurriedly tried to restore order. Seeing how difficult it was for Teacher Gao to walk, Lin Fang stepped forward to support him. She wanted to ask what was going on but thought better of it and silently helped him shuffle toward the office.
The Chinese teachers’ office was quiet, with a few teachers either preparing lessons or grading assignments. The moment Teacher Gao entered, he called out, “Xiao Qiu, I’ve brought you an assistant!”
His announcement made every teacher stop what they were doing and look over. Lin Fang grew nervous under their scrutiny, still confused about the situation.
Teacher Gao sat at a desk, pulling Lin Fang down beside him. Patting her hand, he smiled. “Don’t be nervous, child. I asked you here because I need your help. Just wait a moment.”
He began flipping through her notebook, chuckling to himself. When he reached a certain page, he handed it to a teacher opposite him, around fifty years old. “Xiao Qiu, take a look. What do you think?”
The man—”Xiao Qiu”—took the notebook, finally shifting his scrutinizing gaze from Lin Fang to the pages. After a moment, he looked up. “Did you make this?”
“Teacher Qiu, what exactly are you referring to?” Lin Fang never took notes. When she wasn’t sleeping in class, she’d doodle randomly in her notebook—stories, drawings, things even she couldn’t explain. So when questioned, she wasn’t sure what to expect.
Teacher Qiu turned the notebook toward her. “This.”
Recognizing the table she’d just made, Lin Fang relaxed. “Yes, I did.”
“Do you often make these?”
She shook her head. “Not often. Only before exams.”
“What exams?”
“Midterms and finals.”
“If you already have a grasp of the material, why make these? To reinforce your memory?”
“No, it’s for my friend.”
“Where is your friend?”
“In Class 50.”
“What’s his name?”
“Guo Haopeng.”
Another teacher chimed in, “Guo Haopeng? The one nicknamed Meatball? The chubby kid?”
Lin Fang recognized him as Meatball’s homeroom teacher and nodded. “Yes. He’s my neighbor.”
Teacher Gao tapped the desk. “Xiao Qiu, don’t be so stern. Teacher Sun, could you fetch Guo Haopeng?”
Teacher Sun agreed readily. “Of course. They have P.E. now—I’ll let Teacher Su know.” He left the office.
Meatball, too overweight to keep up in P.E., was always being scolded by Teacher Su. Being summoned was a reprieve for him. Lin Fang smirked inwardly—lucky him, dodging another lecture.
While they waited, Teacher Qiu stayed silent. Teacher Gao chatted with Lin Fang about her illness and past treatments. She answered what she could until Teacher Sun returned with a panting Meatball.
Meatball answered Teacher Qiu’s questions one by one. Finally, Teacher Qiu asked if he remembered the materials Lin Fang had prepared for him. Meatball shook his head. “How could I remember all that? I forgot right after the exams. I just know it was simpler than what the teachers taught. Honestly, if Lin Fang hadn’t forced me to memorize those summaries, I probably would’ve dropped out long ago. No way I’d be in high school now.”
Teacher Shi laughed. “I can see that. I’ve reviewed all the students’ records, and yours stood out. Your grades were always just around the passing line—except for the high school entrance exam, where you scored slightly higher. Pretty balanced, just enough to make the cutoff. Was the review outline for that exam also made by Lin Fang?”
Meatball nodded. “Yep. She made me memorize it every day, using different tricks. If I refused, she’d tattle to my mom, saying I bullied her. Mom would whack me with a broomstick.”
The teachers burst into laughter. Lin Fang glared at him. “Why’d you say that?”
Before Meatball could retort, Teacher Qiu asked, “Do you still have that outline?”
He shook his head. “No idea. After the exam, I folded all my books and notebooks into paper airplanes, including that outline. I never thought I’d pass anyway. Whether it flew away or landed in the yard, I didn’t care.”
Another round of laughter filled the room. Teacher Qiu sighed and dismissed Meatball, then turned to consult Teacher Gao.
Teacher Gao addressed Lin Fang. “Child, Teacher Qiu and I are compiling a review guide for middle school Chinese. Your table is excellent, and your handwriting has improved greatly. From now on, you’ll assist Teacher Qiu—brainstorming ideas, transcribing drafts. Writing a book is hard work. I’m too old now, so I’ll leave it to you two.”
In this era, manuscripts were mostly handwritten—computers weren’t widespread yet. While some schools had computer classes, Lin Fang’s didn’t. She wouldn’t use a computer until college.
Lin Fang was stunned. “Teacher Gao, I’m only a first-year high school student. I’ve only completed half a semester. How could I contribute? Aren’t you worried I’ll just cause trouble?”
Teacher Gao laughed. “Trouble is fine—Teacher Qiu will guide you. Here’s some insider news: After I retire, Teacher Qiu will take over your class. If you mess up, it’s on him for not teaching you well. If he gives you a hard time, I’ll scold him for you.”
Teacher Qiu feigned annoyance. “Teacher Gao, spare me some dignity. I haven’t even taken over your class yet, and you’re already setting me up for failure.”
Teacher Gao grinned. “I do as I please.”
Lin Fang smiled. Who knew the usually stern Teacher Gao had such a playful side? At eighty, he’d earned the right to be a mischievous old man. His strictness in class must just be his teaching style.
After some more banter, Teacher Qiu turned to Lin Fang. “Since Teacher Gao clearly adores you, he’ll spill my secrets sooner or later. I might as well come clean. I was also Teacher Gao’s student—your senior. I was the one who convinced him to teach your class, hoping he could pass on some traditional knowledge. Sadly, most students weren’t interested. Now that he’s retiring, I’ll take over. Fair warning: I’m not as easygoing as Teacher Gao. When strictness is needed, I won’t hold back.”
Lin Fang nodded repeatedly. What else could she do in this situation?
Before Teacher Qiu could continue, Teacher Gao interrupted. “Child, can you ride a bike?”
“Yes, I can. My family has one, but I rarely get to use it.”
“Good. The editorial work will happen at my place. The school lacks resources, and walking would waste time. Teacher Qiu bikes me there daily. If you can ride, I have a spare bike you can use.”
“Okay.”
As soon as Lin Fang agreed, Meatball barged in. “No way, Teacher Gao! Lin Fang’s health is weak—she can’t handle the strain. The city’s crowded and dangerous for biking. I’ll take her. She’s ridden with me since we were kids—I’m experienced.”
“I’m not that weak,” Lin Fang retorted, glaring.
Teacher Gao chuckled. “Ah, right. I’d forgotten. Very well, Guo Haopeng will handle transportation. I’ll be home from now on—come whenever you’re free.”
“Okay.” Lin Fang shot Meatball another glare. This guy was clearly using this as an excuse to keep an eye on her, afraid she’d overexert herself.
Meatball grinned foolishly. He knew Lin Fang hated being shadowed, but he didn’t dare slack off. Since childhood, his mother had drilled into him: Lin Fang must never be left alone.
Resigned to the arrangement, Lin Fang accepted it, already plotting how to get back at Meatball later.
And so, Lin Fang acquired her first job since rebirth—editorial assistant, essentially a gofer. She didn’t know if there’d be pay, but compiling books wasn’t unfamiliar. In her past life, she and Sima Rusu (Chen Dong, reborn in that world) had painstakingly written textbooks for their Lin Family School.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage