Chapter 11: Frozen Time

Wuming Square, nestled in the heart of the city, served as Yangcheng's premier commercial district. He Lizhen had dined here once before with Shang Jie when visiting. She arrived at the square around 9:40 AM, the morning sun already warming the pavement.

The square's defining feature was a sculpture erected in early 2002, bearing the evocative name "Frozen Time." Its contemporary design featured several overlapping blue fan-shaped sections that appeared unremarkable up close. Yet from a distance—particularly from the third-floor restaurant where she'd sat with Shang Jie—the sculpture transformed into ocean waves, each crest forever chasing the one before it, never quite catching up.

He Lizhen understood the metaphor viscerally: waves are destined from their formation to have both beginning and end, perpetually surging yet eternally separated.

She tilted her head back, lost in contemplation. The weekend crowd swelled around her, a sea of pedestrians. After scanning the plaza until her neck ached, she finally spotted Wan Kun.

Their eyes met across the distance. Though he kept his head down, he walked with purpose, crossing the street directly toward her.

He appeared recovered from his illness, wearing a crisp black tracksuit that emphasized his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs—a youthful vitality like a verdant pine tree. Yet this particular pine grew slightly crooked. He Lizhen watched him approach with that familiar swagger, shoulders perpetually slouched, his posture undermining an otherwise impressive physique.

As he drew near, her expression hardened. She drew a deep breath, preparing to speak.

"You—"

"Come on. Why are you just standing here?" Wan Kun casually grabbed her arm, pulling her aside.

He Lizhen wrenched free, stepping back deliberately. "Wan Kun, stand up straight!"

He smiled, hands sliding into his pockets, and actually complied, standing at attention before her.

"Well?"

She met his gaze squarely. "What did you write in that diary?"

"Oh, that?" Wan Kun's tone was infuriatingly casual. "You saw it, didn't you?"

"Don't treat this as a joke. I'm warning you—if you do this again, I'll—"

"You'll what?" He bent down to her eye level. "Tell Hu Fei? Or tell everyone about my part-time job?"

She shifted tactics. "Are you still working there?"

Wan Kun straightened, his gaze drifting to the grass beside them. It wasn't clean—littered with wrappers and bottles left by careless passersby.

The confirmation settled into her mind, validating Shang Jie's warning. "If you're still working there, don't blame me for notifying the school."

"Fine," he replied, unconcerned.

His indifference caught her off guard. He clearly believed she wouldn't follow through. Before she could react, he grabbed her arm again. "You want me to stop joking around? Then come watch a movie with me."

"What?" Confusion flickered across her face.

His grin turned mischievous. "If we watch a movie together, I won't write any more random diary entries."

Panic fluttered in her chest. "Wan Kun, don't mess around!" She pushed against him, perhaps harder than intended.

He gasped sharply, grabbing a nearby stone pillar and bending over.

She froze. "What's wrong?"

He grimaced, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. When he looked up, his voice was pained and accusing. "Damn it, my back isn't even healed yet. Are you trying to kill me?"

Guilt washed over her immediately. She clutched her backpack, no longer concerned with his coarse language. Though his tracksuit collar concealed the injury, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

He paused, then straightened carefully. "It's just a movie—a way to strengthen teacher-student relationships. What's the big deal?"

Still thinking about his injury, she offered little resistance when he pulled her into the shopping mall.

"Wait here. I'll buy tickets." He left her standing by the entrance. She called after him twice, but he didn't respond. When he returned, he carried a box of popcorn, which he placed on the table between them.

"Wan Kun..." She pushed the popcorn aside. "I think we really need to talk."

He sat on the stool, unable to lean back because of his injury, so he leaned forward instead, elbows resting on his thighs. Looking up at her, his expression lazy, he asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

"I apologize for what happened that day. I shouldn't have thrown such hot water at you."

He laughed. "It's fine. If I were a woman, I would've done the same thing."

"But you were in the wrong first," she countered. "And there's also the diary incident." She thought of the paper she'd torn to shreds. "I'm your teacher. I don't care whether you were playing a prank or had other intentions. It needs to stop. You're a student. Students should focus on studying."

Wan Kun lowered his gaze, his attention seemingly absorbed by his own hands. They were large, outstretched, palms dry with a slight pallor at the center.

"Did you hear me?" She tapped the glass tabletop in front of him.

"Yes, I heard you." He looked up.

She immediately straightened, unnerved by something in his expression.

He studied her face, then gave a slight smile.

That smile brought Shang Jie's words rushing back: "That kid has a wild streak. He can't be kept in check."

Feeling utterly defeated, He Lizhen sat down opposite him and stuffed a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

---

Wan Kun hadn't bothered choosing carefully, selecting only the earliest showing—which turned out to be a war film.

He Lizhen sat in the darkened theater, her mind elsewhere, only half-registering the machine gun fire and artillery explosions that made her head throb.

Beside her, Wan Kun appeared focused on the screen, his face expressionless—whether he was actually watching remained unclear.

She was mentally calculating when the film would end so she could escape, failing to notice when Wan Kun turned to look at her. By the time awareness returned, his hand was already gripping hers.

In the darkness, every sensation intensified. The contact sent a shock through her system. She tried to pull away immediately, but his grip was iron-strong. She twisted her wrist twice without success, anxiety rising. She didn't dare shout in the theater, so she hissed, "Let go!"

Not only did he refuse, but he also turned his body toward her, his other hand reaching up to cup the back of her head as she tried to pull away. His large hand covered most of her skull. Frustrated and angry, she kicked him sharply in the knee.

He winced, his grip loosening momentarily. She seized the opportunity, grabbed her bag, and bolted.

She didn't look back to see if he followed. She bypassed the elevator entirely, flying down the stairs and bursting through the doors. Only when surrounded by the bustling crowd did her racing thoughts begin to settle.

Her heart hammered like it had after university fitness tests.

"Teacher He?"

She nearly dropped her bag. Spinning around, she saw someone emerging from the mall—a refined man with silver-rimmed glasses. Li Changjia from Yuying Middle School.

"Teacher Li." She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, forcing composure.

"What a coincidence, running into you here." Li Changjia approached with an easy smile. "Shopping?"

"Yes." She nodded. "You too?"

"Picking up some clothes." He glanced around her. "Are you alone?"

She hesitated, then caught sight of Wan Kun behind Li Changjia's shoulder.

He stood there with hands in pockets, framed by the mall's revolving door, watching them with that infuriating smirk.

She turned back to Li Changjia decisively. "Yes, I'm alone."

"Me too. It's nearly noon—how about lunch together? My treat."

She smiled. "That's very kind. Let's go."

Walking beside Li Changjia as he suggested various restaurants, she listened with only partial attention until they turned the corner, leaving the mall far behind. Only then could she truly focus on his recommendations.

Li Changjia ultimately chose a Thai restaurant on the top floor of another shopping center—intimate, uncrowded. After ordering, they settled into conversation.

"I attended one of your classes recently," she offered. "Very insightful."

"Really?"

"Yes. I only officially started teaching this September. Still finding my way."

"You don't seem like a beginner." His smile was warm.

"What makes you say that?"

"I think you carry yourself with remarkable composure. Your temperament is perfectly suited to teaching—dignified, authoritative."

Dignified? She thought of Wan Kun, and her stomach twisted with bitter irony.

"You're too kind," she deflected.

"Please, call me by name. I'm only twenty-nine. We're practically the same generation."

"Ah, all right."

Li Changjia was about to continue when he suddenly frowned, turning his head to cough. He covered his mouth, the coughs coming hard and heavy. She quickly poured water, passing him the glass. "Are you all right?"

His face flushed from the exertion. He accepted the water gratefully. "I'm fine, just—" More coughs interrupted. He sipped carefully until the spasm subsided. "Sorry. Occupational hazard."

She blinked in concern. He smiled reassuringly. "I already had some tracheal issues. Constantly inhaling chalk dust only made it worse."

"Do you need medication?"

"It's manageable." He changed direction. "Teacher He, how are you finding the work so far?"

"Finding it? In what sense?"

"To be honest, several teachers and I are preparing to launch a tutoring program. We should be ready in a month or two. We've secured a location but still need instructors." He met her eyes directly. "Would you be interested?"

"Tutoring?"

"Yes, essentially part-time work."

"But our school prohibits teachers from outside tutoring..."

He smiled knowingly. "You're new, so you wouldn't know—what teacher doesn't tutor? Take Hu Fei, your senior year math teacher?"

"Yes, he's a homeroom teacher."

"He's joining us."

Her eyes widened.

"We've worked out all the details. Would you like to participate?"

"This is..." She paused. "Rather sudden. Can I think about it?"

"Of course."

"I'll give you an answer soon." She added gratefully, "Thank you for thinking of me. I haven't been teaching long, so I'm not sure I'm qualified."

"You'll do fine." His confidence was genuine. "I was impressed during the teaching research meeting. Don't worry—you'll excel at this."

After the meal, her impression of Li Changjia had warmed considerably. At home that evening, she seriously contemplated his proposal.

He was right, after all. Teachers supplementing their income through tutoring was perfectly normal. The school couldn't reasonably object.

---

On Monday, as expected, neither Wan Kun nor Wu Yueming attended class. He Lizhen distributed graded tests and reviewed the problems.

Four days? Five days?

An entire week passed without seeing Wan Kun. His name no longer appeared on the re-collected weekly journals.

She convinced herself that everything from before had become past. Until one evening when Wu Yueming stopped her again.

This time, she'd learned her lesson, maintaining careful boundaries. She stood at the corridor corner, students crowding the stairwell during dismissal.

"What's wrong?" She crossed her arms.

"Teacher..." Wu Yueming's hesitation was palpable.

She narrowed her eyes. "Is this about Wan Kun?"

He looked up sharply. "You know?"

"Know what?"

He bit his lip. "Teacher, can you lend me some money?"

She thought she'd misheard.

"Say that again?"

"Can I borrow money from you?"

"For what purpose?"

Silence.

"Why won't you answer? What do you need money for?" Her voice sharpened. "Have you gotten into trouble?"

He frowned. "It wasn't me."

After a long pause, when the stairwell had emptied, she spoke quietly. "What happened to Wan Kun?"

"Can you lend me the money? I'll pay you back soon."

She stepped forward, arms still crossed, enunciating each word. "Can't you understand me? I'm asking what happened to Wan Kun. Why do you need to borrow money?"

He retreated half a step, muttered "Never mind," and turned toward the stairs.

Something inside her snapped. She grabbed his backpack strap, yanking him back.

"Explain yourself clearly!" Her temper flared. "Or we're going to the office right now to talk with Teacher Hu!"

He shrugged. "It's fine."

"Wu Yueming!"

She was a teacher, after all. He'd never heard her raise her voice like this. He stood still, no longer attempting to flee.

"You and Wan Kun haven't attended school for a week. Where have you been?"

"I went to work."

"And Wan Kun? He went to work too?" Her thoughts immediately jumped to Rusty Season nightclub.

"No," Wu Yueming said softly. "He went home."

She stared. "Home?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you need money?" Understanding dawned. "Wan Kun needs money for something."

"Can you please stop asking?" His impatience surfaced. "If you want to lend it, lend it. If not, forget it."

Without hesitation, she grabbed his arm, heading toward the office. "Come on. I won't ask—someone else will."

Wu Yueming realized her intent. Apparently unwilling to waste energy dealing with Hu Fei, he pulled back. But she wouldn't release him, as if determined to see this through. Finally, his composure broke.

"His family needs it!"

She turned. "His family?"

Two passing students glanced at the scene—a teacher physically restraining a student. Wu Yueming walked back to the corner. "Let's talk over here."

She followed, and they returned to their previous spot.