Chapter 4: Shock!
Lin Zhengmo had only wanted to escape Zhao Ming's chattering, but she crashed into a soft embrace instead. In that 0.01-second close encounter with Director Jian, her heart raced—attributed to the shock. But was it really just shock?
First, she caught the director's scent—surprisingly pleasant, like the fresh aroma of plant roots in a quiet garden on a summer night. Then their eyes met again, Lin Zhengmo falling into amber irises rippling with captivating moisture, making her unbearably nervous.
"Sorry, Director Jian!" She looked away, polite.
"Not a problem."
"I was walking too fast."
"No worries~"
Lin Zhengmo crouched to gather the papers, noticing Jian Yue doing the same. As she bent, her long hair draped over her knees, hiding her profile. Slender fingers neatened the mess; Jian Yue joined in, their hands brushing accidentally. Like an electric shock, they both jerked back.
Lin Zhengmo wordlessly stacked the papers. "Here you go, Director."
Jian Yue took them, handing over the English book. "Thanks."
They stood, avoiding eye contact. Jian Yue went to Zhao Ming, while Lin Zhengmo turned wordlessly toward Class 1, Grade 1. Her shoes tapped gently on the corridor, but her heart wouldn't settle. She replayed the collision, stunned by her sensitivity to Jian Yue's scent—a unique fragrance that pierced her nose and settled in her heart.
How terrifying!
"Exchange, exchange—"
"Lecture, lecture—"
Neat recitations reached Lin Zhengmo as she paused at the classroom door. Students cheered louder at her arrival, forcing her to step back for peace. The homeroom teacher approached with a smile.
"Ms. Lin, I need a minute to announce something."
Lin Zhengmo nodded. "Sure."
"The sports meet next week," the teacher began. "You're in the relay, right? Practice tonight at the back playground—will you come?"
Troublesome. But refusal seemed unkind. "What time?"
"7:30 PM, meet at the playground."
Lin Zhengmo understood the teacher's focus on class honor. No reason to decline. "Okay."
Nancheng Middle School has evening self-study, so teachers don't need to supervise. After dinner, Lin Zhengmo changed into sportswear and wandered to the playground. Dusk had fallen, orange streetlights casting cool-blue hues on the cement.
Two playgrounds exist: one by the basketball court, one at the back—where teachers gathered, away from students. Lin Zhengmo arrived five minutes early; many teachers already waited. A tall figure stood out, shoulders straight, silhouette thin in the dim light—Director Jian.
This was the third time Lin Zhengmo had seen her today. Right, she remembered, Jian Yue taught politics for Class 1, Grade 1 and was in the relay team.
She approached silently, stopping a meter from the group. Zhao Ming waved her over. "Ms. Lin, come here!" They were discussing strategies. Since teachers taught different classes, the relay didn't represent any class—"friendship first, competition second"—with random teams of four.
"Ms. Lin, you're on our team," Zhao Ming said. The team: Lin Zhengmo, Zhao Ming, Jian Yue, and a PE teacher.
Zhao Ming planned: "Except Mr. Gong, we're amateurs. Goal: not last place!"
Mr. Gong, a straight man, boasted: "We can win! I'll leave others in the dust!"
Lin Zhengmo interjected: "Sorry, Mr. Gong. I'm not athletic—always last in school. Might hold you back."
"Don't worry, I'll lead!"
Jian Yue observed calmly: "Let's see how it goes, Mr. Gong."
Intimidated by her status, Gong laughed awkwardly: "I'll follow your lead!"
Jian Yue didn't care about the race, and Lin Zhengmo likely felt the same. Who had time to care about winning? But Zhao Ming was right: avoid last place.
"Many teams will fumble the baton," Jian Yue suggested. "Just practice passing—it'll be fine."
Lin Zhengmo's silence meant agreement.
Gong insisted: "I'll run last, Zhao second last. Ms. Jian, Ms. Lin—decide who starts."
Jian Yue nodded, finally looking at Lin Zhengmo. She stepped closer, whispering: "What do you think, Ms. Lin?"
The moment Jian Yue approached, Lin Zhengmo tensed, catching that scent again. What perfume is this?
"Director, I'm slow," she said, eyes on Jian Yue's shirt buttons. "You decide." Her calm tone was alluring—Jian Yue had only heard it over the phone. Face-to-face, she saw Lin Zhengmo's snow-white nose, pink lips pursed, eyes lifting with soft moisture as she asked, exuding a frail temptation.
Jian Yue's heart skipped. "You start first, okay?"
Distracted, Lin Zhengmo agreed: "Yes, Director."
They practiced. Lin Zhengmo ran first—graceful but slow, more like a stroll. Gong frowned; Zhao Ming muttered: "Should we call her Lin Daiyu?"
Gong groaned: "I want to stick a motor on her shoes."
Jian Yue defended her: "She's cute. Don't you think she's trying hard?"
Zhao Ming forced a laugh: "Directors sure know how to admire women."
Jian Yue shot him a cold look, silencing him.
As Lin Zhengmo panted over, Jian Yue took the baton but didn't run, instead asking: "You okay, Ms. Lin?"
Lin Zhengmo nodded, pale-faced. "Fine." Others saw her thinness as 娇气 (delicacy), but she was just unwell, rarely exercising. She'd tried not to embarrass herself.
Jian Yue saw through her, feeling a pang. "You ran too fast—take it slow next time." She gave the baton to Zhao Ming. "Rest on the stands."
The stands were dark, unlit. Jian Yue wiped a step before letting Lin Zhengmo sit, then joined her, showing no sign of leaving.
Alone with her again! Lin Zhengmo struggled with the awkwardness—they'd barely spoken in six months, save for the file incident. Start a conversation? Impossible.
"Rest," Jian Yue said, sensing her discomfort. "I need a break too." She closed her eyes, feigning rest, relishing the moment.
"Okay."
Lin Zhengmo texted AhAhAh:
[So awkward!!!]
[My boss is sitting next to me.]
[crying jpg.]
Jian Yue's phone vibrated thrice. She opened her eyes, took out the phone, and lied: "Oh, remembered I need to read a fire safety document."
"Go ahead," Lin Zhengmo said, focused on her phone.
AhAhAh replied:
[What's wrong? Is your boss scary?]
[Yes.]
Jian Yue muted her phone, typing with a half-smile:
[Never heard you mention her. Why is she scary?]
[She's oppressive.]
[Curious. What makes you think so?]
Lin Zhengmo stared—she barely knew Jian Yue, judging purely by impression.
[She always looks stern. Once I saw her frowning, like everyone owed her money.]
Beside her, Jian Yue laughed softly, amused.
Lin Zhengmo turned off her phone. "Something funny, Director?"
Jian Yue relaxed, her features softening—less unapproachable. "This fire safety document... It's hilarious."
Lin Zhengmo texted AhAhAh:
[She just laughed out of nowhere! Creepy!!!]