From a county-level lecture hall to a nationally renowned teacher

一

Spring came earlier in 2002 than the previous year.

Just after the Lantern Festival, the temperature soared to 15 degrees Celsius. The sycamore trees by the playground sprouted tender buds, a vibrant green, like newly opened eyes. Behind the canteen, the rapeseed flowers were in full bloom, a golden expanse, buzzing busily with bees.

Lin Zhiyuan stood at the dormitory entrance, looking at the scene before him, and felt that even the air was sweet.

On the first day of the new semester, he specially wore a new shirt—a light blue, pure cotton shirt that Su Wanqing had given him for the New Year, which was very comfortable to wear. He looked at himself in the mirror and felt that he looked much more energetic than last year.

"Zhiyuan, are you coming or not?" Wang Jianguo shouted from outside.

"They're here."

The two walked together toward the teaching building. Wang Jianguo ate a steamed bun as they walked, his cheeks bulging, and his words were muffled: "Have you heard? A new teacher is coming this semester."

"What teacher?"

"He's in Chinese language. They said he was transferred from the provincial capital to support our school."

Lin Zhiyuan was taken aback. The Chinese language group had been short-staffed for a year, something Chen Mingyuan had been talking about. Now that someone had actually come, he had a somewhat indescribable feeling—was it happiness, or something else entirely?

"Male or female?" he asked.

"I don't know. I heard it's a woman, young."

After Wang Jianguo finished speaking, he gave him a meaningful look.

Why are you looking at me like that?

"It's nothing. Just reminding you that you already have a girlfriend."

Lin Zhiyuan rolled his eyes at him and quickened his pace.

In the classroom, more than half of the students had already arrived. Sun Xiaolei sat in the first row, her winter vacation homework spread out in front of her, and she was writing furiously—exactly the same as last year.

"Sun Xiaolei, haven't you finished your winter break homework yet?"

"I'm done writing, I'm done writing, just a little bit more." Sun Xiaolei said without even looking up.

"You said last time that it was just a little bit short."

"This time it was really just a tiny bit short."

Lin Zhiyuan shook his head and walked to the podium. He wrote the topic of the lesson on the blackboard—"The New Year's Sacrifice," a short story by Lu Xun about the tragedy of Xianglin's Wife. He had taught this text once before, but each time he read it, he had new insights.

The school bell rang.

Hello, students.

"Hello, teacher—" The voice was much louder than last semester.

Lin Zhiyuan glanced around the classroom. Zhou Haitao sat in the last row by the window, a textbook in front of him, his eyes fixed on Lin Zhiyuan. Liu Qiang sat in the middle, his back ramrod straight, a stark contrast to his appearance a few semesters ago. Zhao Xiaoman sat in the third row, not looking in a mirror or reading a novel, but intently studying the blackboard. Chen Yutong was slumped over her desk, but her head was raised and her eyes were open.

"Today we're going to talk about a person," Lin Zhiyuan said, "a person who died four times."

The students looked puzzled.

"Xianglin's Wife. A tragic character created by Lu Xun. She died four times—the first time when her husband died, the second time when she was sold, the third time when her son died, and the fourth time when she actually died."

He paused, looking at the students below: "The question we're going to discuss today is—who killed Xianglin's Wife?"

two

The new teacher arrived on the second Monday after the start of the school year.

Lin Zhiyuan was grading papers in his office when Chen Mingyuan walked in with someone. It was a young woman, around twenty-five or twenty-six years old, with short hair, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a dark blue coat; she looked very capable.

"Class, let me introduce you." Chen Mingyuan clapped his hands. "This is our new Chinese teacher, Ms. Shen Ruohan. She was transferred from the High School Affiliated to the Provincial Normal University. She has three years of teaching experience and is an outstanding young teacher in the province. Please welcome her."

The teachers in the office all stood up and applauded. Lin Zhiyuan also clapped.

"Teacher Shen, this is Teacher Lin, she also teaches Chinese, and she's in the same grade as you." Chen Mingyuan pointed to Lin Zhiyuan.

Shen Ruohan walked over and extended her hand: "Hello, Teacher Lin. Please take care of me in the future."

"Let's take care of each other." Lin Zhiyuan squeezed her hand; her fingers were very cold.

Shen Ruohan was seated at the desk opposite Lin Zhiyuan. She laid out her belongings one by one—a pen holder, several textbooks, a water glass, and a small potted green plant. She arranged them neatly and meticulously.

During lunch, Wang Jianguo leaned over and asked, "How was it? Did you see the new teacher?"

"I saw it."

"How does she look?"

"good."

"What does 'okay' mean? Does it mean it looks good or not?"

Lin Zhiyuan glanced at him: "You're a married man, why are you asking this?"

"I asked for Dr. Su," Wang Jianguo said matter-of-factly. "I have to keep an eye on you for her."

Lin Zhiyuan ignored him and buried himself in his food.

Lin Zhiyuan had no classes in the afternoon, so he was preparing lessons in his office. Shen Ruohan was also there, flipping through the textbook intently.

"Ms. Lin," she suddenly asked, "which school did you graduate from?"

"Provincial Normal University".

"Me too." Shen Ruohan looked up and smiled. "Then you're my junior."

What year were you in?

"Class of '97".

I graduated in 00. I'm three years below you.

"Then call me senior," Shen Ruohan said with a smile.

Lin Zhiyuan smiled but didn't call out. He wasn't used to getting close to people, especially new colleagues.

Shen Ruohan didn't mind and continued flipping through the textbook. After a while, she spoke again: "Teacher Lin, how are the students in your class?"

"It's alright. There are good ones and bad ones. That's normal."

"When I was in the affiliated high school, the students were extremely polarized. The good ones were exceptionally good, and the bad ones were exceptionally bad. High schools in county towns should be better, right?"

Lin Zhiyuan thought for a moment: "They're about the same. Children from rural areas have a weaker foundation, but they're willing to work hard. Children from the city have a better foundation, but they don't study as hard."

Shen Ruohan nodded, seemingly lost in thought.

Lin Zhiyuan glanced at her and suddenly asked, "Teacher Shen, why did you transfer here from the provincial capital?"

Shen Ruohan was silent for a few seconds, then said, "I want a change of scenery."

Just those four words. No explanation, no further elaboration.

Lin Zhiyuan didn't ask any more questions. He vaguely felt that this new teacher had some kind of story behind him.

three

In the third week, Shen Ruohan will be giving a public lecture.

This is a long-standing rule at the school—every new teacher has to give a public lesson, which the entire group attends to observe and then evaluate. Chen Mingyuan notified Shen Ruohan a week in advance so she could prepare well.

"Teacher Lin, could you take a look at my lesson plan?" Shen Ruohan handed over the lesson plan.

Lin Zhiyuan took it and looked at it. She was teaching "Lotus Pond by Moonlight," a famous piece by Zhu Ziqing. The lesson plan was very detailed, with each step clearly written from the introduction to the summary, and the time specified down to the minute.

"It's very well written," Lin Zhiyuan said.

"Where do you think it needs to be changed?"

Lin Zhiyuan looked at it again and thought for a moment: "I think... it's too full."

"Too full?"

"Yes. You want to cover too much. The author's background, the structure of the article, the characteristics of the language, the changes in emotions—all crammed into one lesson. Students can't digest it all."

Shen Ruohan frowned: "Then what do you think should be deleted?"

"It's not about deleting anything, it's about slowing down the pace. Some things don't need to be explained; let the students read and experience them for themselves. If you explain too much, you'll actually squeeze out their space for feeling."

Shen Ruohan looked at him, her eyes filled with something indescribable.

"Teacher Lin, the way you speak is very similar to my mentor at the affiliated high school."

"Yeah?"

"That's what he said too. 'If you talk too much, the students won't want to think anymore.'" Shen Ruohan lowered her head and drew a few lines on her lesson plan. "I'll revise it again."

On the day of the open class, the classroom was packed. Chen Mingyuan sat in the last row, next to several other language arts teachers. Lin Zhiyuan sat by the window, holding his observation notebook.

Shen Ruohan stood on the podium, wearing a white shirt, her short hair neatly combed. She took a deep breath and then began to speak.

"Class, today we're going to read a text. This text describes a summer night when a person is taking a walk under the moonlight. This person isn't in a good mood, but the scenery he sees is beautiful. Why is that?"

She posed the question and then waited for the student to answer.

After a few seconds of silence, Sun Xiaolei raised her hand: "Because he wanted to cheer himself up, so he looked at beautiful things."

"That makes sense. Anything else?"

Liu Qiang raised his hand: "Because he's in a bad mood, he can see beauty more clearly. It's like... like when you're heartbroken and you listen to love songs, you feel like every song is written for you."

The whole class laughed. Shen Ruohan laughed too, a genuine laugh.

"That's a great analogy," she said. "When we're in a bad mood, we're actually more sensitive to beauty. Zhu Ziqing was also in a bad mood when he wrote 'Lotus Pond by Moonlight.' Why was he in a bad mood? Let's read it together today."

She began to read the text aloud. Her voice was soft but clear, and she had a good grasp of rhythm, fast where it should be fast and slow where it should be slow. When she read, "The moonlight, like flowing water, quietly poured over these leaves and flowers," her voice softened, as if she were telling a secret.

The classroom was quiet. Even the boy who was usually the most talkative was silent.

Lin Zhiyuan wrote a sentence in his lecture notes: "Voice has magic."

four

The evaluation of the open class was conducted in the Chinese language group office.

Chen Mingyuan spoke first: "Teacher Shen's class was good overall. The objectives were clear, the key points were highlighted, and the language was clear. The only shortcoming was that the discussion session at the end was a bit rushed; the students didn't finish discussing before the class ended. Next time, please pay attention to time management."

Several other teachers also offered suggestions; some said the blackboard writing could be neater, while others suggested the questions could be more structured. These were all minor issues, nothing serious.

When it was Lin Zhiyuan's turn, he said, "I think the biggest highlight of Ms. Shen's lesson was that she made the students feel the beauty of words. The worst thing in a Chinese language class is to make something beautiful not beautiful. Ms. Shen didn't make that mistake."

Shen Ruohan glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth curled up slightly.

After the lesson evaluation ended, the teachers dispersed. Lin Zhiyuan was packing his things to leave when Shen Ruohan called him back.

"Thank you, Teacher Lin."

"What are you thanking me for?"

"I've remembered what you said: 'The worst thing in a language arts class is to make something beautiful sound ugly.'"

Lin Zhiyuan smiled and said, "You're my senior, no need to thank me."

"I also want to thank you, senior," Shen Ruohan said earnestly. "In this school, there aren't many people who can understand what I'm saying. You're one of them."

Looking at her, Lin Zhiyuan suddenly realized that this new teacher wasn't so unapproachable after all. She just—as she said—wanted a change of environment. As for why she wanted to change, that was her business.

"We'll learn from each other in the future," Lin Zhiyuan said.

"it is good."

五

In early April, something happened.

Zhou Haitao's English grades came out; he only scored 58 points on the monthly exam. 58 out of 150—a further drop from last semester. Lin Zhiyuan frowned as he looked at the report card.

He called Zhou Haitao to his office.

"What's wrong with the English?"

Zhou Haitao lowered his head and remained silent.

"You were able to score in the seventies last semester, how come you're down to the fifties this semester?"

"Teacher Lin, I..." Zhou Haitao's voice was very soft, "I really can't learn English."

"If you can't learn it, it's a problem with your method. Tell me, how did you learn it?"

Zhou Haitao was silent for a moment, then said, "I memorize vocabulary every morning. I memorize it, then forget it, then memorize it again. I've memorized it many times, but I still can't remember it."

"What about grammar?"

"I don't understand. There are too many rules; I can't remember them all."

Lin Zhiyuan wasn't an English teacher, so he didn't know how to help Zhou Haitao. But he knew that if Zhou Haitao's English didn't improve, his dream of going to university would be in jeopardy.

"Wait a moment."

He picked up the phone and called his English teacher, Zhang Yufang. Zhang Yufang was a veteran teacher with over twenty years of experience. After hearing about Zhou Haitao's situation, she said, "This child isn't stupid; his foundation is just too weak. He comes from a rural area and didn't do well in junior high, so he's falling behind in high school. In this case, classroom instruction alone isn't enough; he needs individual tutoring."

"How to replenish it?"

"Start from the beginning. Begin with first-year junior high English. Find someone to help him, and go through it lesson by lesson. There's no other way."

Lin Zhiyuan hung up the phone and looked at Zhou Haitao. Zhou Haitao looked back at him, his eyes filled with expectation, unease, and a little fear.

"Zhou Haitao, I need to tell you something."

"Um."

"Your English foundation is weak, so you'll have to start from scratch, beginning with junior high. It will be a tough process. Are you willing to go through that?"

Zhou Haitao answered almost without hesitation: "I'm willing."

"But I don't have time to tutor you. My English isn't good enough either. You'll have to figure it out yourself. Or—" Lin Zhiyuan thought for a moment, "I'll find you a classmate who's good at English and they can teach you every day."

Zhou Haitao nodded.

Lin Zhiyuan asked around the class, and finally Sun Xiaolei volunteered. Her English grades were in the top five in the class, not the best, but she was patient and willing to help others.

From that day on, every evening for the first half hour of self-study, Sun Xiaolei and Zhou Haitao would sit in the corner of the classroom, one explaining and the other listening. Sun Xiaolei would start with the most basic grammar, going through subject, verb, object, tense, and voice one by one. Zhou Haitao would listen attentively, taking copious notes.

Lin Zhiyuan would sometimes stop and listen for a while when he passed by. He didn't understand much, but when he saw the light in Zhou Haitao's eyes, he felt relieved.

六

In mid-April, Lin Zhiyuan and Su Wanqing went to the city.

We're not going to have fun, we're going to look at houses.

Su Wanqing's parents said that if the two planned to get married, they needed to have a place to live. House prices in the county town had risen somewhat in recent years, from 600 yuan per square meter when Lin Zhiyuan first returned to around 800 yuan per square meter now. A 100-square-meter house would cost approximately 80,000 yuan.

Eighty thousand yuan.

Lin Zhiyuan worked for a year and a half, but his savings were less than five thousand.

Su Wanqing had worked for a year and had a little more savings than him, but it was still less than 10,000 yuan.

The two stood in front of a real estate development in the city, looking at the exquisite models on the scale, and both fell silent.

"How about..." Su Wanqing spoke first, "we don't buy it in the city. We can buy it in the county town; it'll be cheaper."

"Even in the county seat, it costs seventy or eighty thousand."

"We can get a loan. I've inquired and there are preferential policies for teacher loans."

Lin Zhiyuan looked at her: "Are you willing to help me pay off the loan?"

"Otherwise what?" Su Wanqing looked at him. "Do you think I'm the kind of person who can only share the good times but not the bad?"

Lin Zhiyuan didn't speak. He reached out and took her hand.

"Su Wanqing".

"Um?"

"Thank you."

"What's wrong with you today? You keep saying thank you."

"Because I really thank you."

Su Wanqing lowered her head and smiled. Sunlight shone on her face, revealing her fair, almost flawless skin. Lin Zhiyuan looked at her profile and suddenly felt that the house wasn't so important anymore. What mattered was that this person was by his side.

On the bus back to the county town, the two sat in the last row. Su Wanqing leaned on his shoulder, her eyes closed, as if she were asleep. The bus bumped along the national highway, and the scenery outside the window flashed by frame by frame—fields, villages, hills, and rivers.

Lin Zhiyuan didn't sleep. He looked out the window, thinking about many things.

Thinking about Zhou Haitao's English, Liu Qiang's math, Chen Yutong's novel, and Zhao Xiaoman's attitude. Thinking about next month's midterm exams, the parent-teacher conference at the end of the semester, and the college entrance exam next year.

Thinking about houses, money, marriage, and the future.

Thinking too much is giving me a headache.

Su Wanqing shifted, changing her position, and continued to lean on his shoulder. Her hand rested on the back of his hand; it was cool to the touch.

Lin Zhiyuan tightened his grip on her hand and closed his eyes.

forget about it.

Let's leave it at that for now.

Seven

Midterm exams at the end of April.

The overall average score of Class 5, Grade 11, maintained its position as the top humanities class. However, Lin Zhiyuan was not happy—because Zhou Haitao's overall score had dropped. Although his English had improved somewhat, scoring 65 points, his math score had dropped again, only 70 points.

He compiled a table of Zhou Haitao's scores in each subject and discovered a pattern: Zhou Haitao did well in Chinese, history, and politics, but his English and math scores were significantly lower. Combined, these two subjects were nearly fifty points lower than those of the top-performing students in the class.

Fifty points.

In the college entrance examination, 50 points can determine whether a person can go to university and what kind of university they can go to.

Lin Zhiyuan went to see his math teacher, Wang Jianguo.

"Old Wang, what's going on with Zhou Haitao's math?"

Wang Jianguo was grading homework when he heard this. He put down his red pen and sighed, "This kid isn't lazy; his foundation is just too weak. He didn't do well in junior high math, so in high school, it's like he's listening to gibberish. Let me tell you, if he wants to catch up, he has to start with junior high math. But the problem is, where is the time?"

"Evening self-study?"

"He needs to catch up on English during evening self-study. You can't expect him to stay up all night, can you?"

Lin Zhiyuan fell silent.

"Zhiyuan," Wang Jianguo said, "some students, you can only protect one aspect. His Chinese and humanities are both good, if you protect those two, he can get into an average university without any problem. If you insist on making him improve in math and English, he may not be able to protect either one."

Lin Zhiyuan knew Wang Jianguo was telling the truth, but he didn't want to accept it.

That night, he walked alone on the playground for a long time. The moon was round, shining brightly on the cinder track, like a layer of salt. The shadows of the sycamore trees fell on the ground, dappled and mottled.

He recalled Chen Mingyuan's words: "You can't save everyone. You can only save those who are willing to be saved."

Zhou Haitao is someone who wants to be saved. But he needs so much saved: English, math, confidence, a way out. Each one is a mountain.

Lin Zhiyuan walked to the parallel bars at the edge of the playground and stopped. He placed his hands on the bars and looked up at the sky. There weren't many stars, but each one was very bright.

"Teacher Lin?"

A voice came from behind.

He turned around, and there was Zhou Haitao.

What are you doing here?

"I...can't sleep." Zhou Haitao walked over and stood beside him. "Teacher Lin, are you thinking about me?"

Lin Zhiyuan looked at him. In the moonlight, the boy's face appeared even thinner, his cheekbones protruding high, and his eyes deeply sunken.

How did you know?

"Because I was thinking about it too." Zhou Haitao lowered his head. "Teacher Lin, I know I've caused you trouble. My English and math are so bad, and you've worried a lot about me."

"It's no trouble at all."

"You don't need to lie to me." Zhou Haitao looked up and met his eyes. "I know I've disappointed you."

"I'm not disappointed," Lin Zhiyuan said. "I was just thinking about how to help you."

Zhou Haitao's eyes reddened. But he didn't cry. He held back.

"Teacher Lin, I will try my best. No matter how difficult it is, I will try my best."

"I know."

"I will not give up."

"I know."

The two stood on the playground, their shadows stretched long in the moonlight. A breeze blew, and the leaves of the sycamore trees rustled, as if they were whispering something.

Lin Zhiyuan reached out and patted Zhou Haitao on the shoulder.

"Go back to sleep. You have class tomorrow."

"Teacher Lin, you should go to bed early too."

Zhou Haitao turned and walked away. His figure grew smaller and smaller in the moonlight until it disappeared at the entrance of the dormitory building.

Lin Zhiyuan stood there, looking in that direction, for a long time.