After finishing the last bowl of vegetable porridge, Shen Leyuan began his studies.
The online course instructor had recommended a book on adolescent psychology. He flipped it open, glanced through it, and found it promising. He started reading from the first page, underlining key parts and taking notes as he went.
“Adolescent psychology refers to the mindset of those in puberty and adolescence…”
His voice was gentle, almost hypnotic.
There weren’t many viewers in the livestream—only five or six scattered here and there. One asked: “Tree Teacher, not drawing anything today?”
The name of Shen Leyuan’s livestream room: Diligently Planting Trees Today.
He called himself a teacher, a homeroom one at that, so his handful of fans dubbed him Tree Teacher.
Tree Teacher was immersed in his book and missed the question.
Only when he closed the book and scrolled back did he reply, asking what the viewer wanted. That fan hadn’t left—they’d even bought a little flipping-book bunny and privately messaged an address for him to ship it to.
Shen Leyuan remembered this fan.
He’d once vented to his online instructor about being broke, and the instructor suggested a side hustle. That’s how the livestream started—whether it made money was up to fate. It was just something casual that wouldn’t eat into his study time.
On launch day, there was only one fan: Observing Silly Bunny.
They seemed like a kid pretending to be all grown up, always asking the weirdest questions and tipping generously. But Shen Leyuan felt bad taking a child’s money, so he’d refunded it all. To date, the channel was in the negative by a few tens of thousands.
Making money is so hard…
With that thought, Shen Leyuan replied to Silly Bunny: “Hold on, let me think about it.”
Actually, he headed upstairs to chat with the big boss.
In front of Lin Yuan, he asked a bit sheepishly: “Can I take a few days off to go out? I want to visit home and drop off a package while I’m at it.”
The day before, Uncle had sent photos of the house, asking when he’d come back.
The walls splattered with red paint had been repainted white. The tables, chairs, and stools inside were neatly arranged. The sofa was new, and the kitchen now had more pots and pans—it looked warm and homey.
But that wasn’t the main thing. Shen Leyuan was still hung up on the contract. He wanted to go back, dig it out, fill in any missing clauses, note down key points, and if possible, renegotiate the scope of his work.
Lin Yuan’s brows furrowed slightly. “What package?”
The simple sketch was clipped in the book. Shen Leyuan pulled it out to show him. “This.”
Lin Yuan: “Who to?”
Shen Leyuan: “A friend.”
As he spoke, he subtly noticed the big boss seemed even unhappier. But there was nothing wrong with what he’d just said. After racking his brain, he figured it was the address, so he added: “I’ll mail it from an external depot—no address from here.”
Lin Yuan: …
What it was, where it was going, who it was for—he probably knew more than Shen Leyuan did. He’d only asked to hear the young man bring up money first, so he could smoothly bump up the salary and stop him from whining to others.
But the young man wouldn’t say it. And he was lying to him, too.
Fine, whatever—not owning up about his identity was one thing, but not admitting he needed cash for side gigs?
Infuriating.
In the past, Lin Yuan’s silence would have left Shen Leyuan on edge. But now, the big boss was an reassuring big angel in his eyes, so he spoke freely: “I learned to draw these to amuse kids back in the day. You haven’t seen one, right? Want it?”
Lin Yuan caught the teasing, playful undertone.
He couldn’t tell if he was pleased or annoyed—just that the young man’s easy confidence was grating. He didn’t want the other man steering the conversation, so he said flatly: “I’ve seen them.”
He’d seen them?
Shen Leyuan was a little surprised. After a moment’s thought—oh, right, Little Deer must have shown him.
Lin Yuan glanced at the nearby drawer, signaling him to open it.
Shen Leyuan: ?
Puzzled, he rummaged inside. There was his previous self-criticism, his submitted schedule and lesson plans, and a thin scrap of paper, like it’d been torn off on the spot. On it was drawn…
The Tathagata Divine Palm brutally beating a little stick figure in a wheelchair.
Shen Leyuan: …
Shen Leyuan: ??
Shen Leyuan: !!!
He froze completely. A flush raced from his cheeks to his ears, hot shame flooding him. He didn’t even dare look at the big boss’s face right now—he felt like bursting into tears.
Help, help, help—this is the one I drew before heading back to the compound, isn’t it?
How is it here with the big boss?!
He didn’t even want to imagine how the big boss must have felt when his bodyguard kindly delivered him to the compound and handed this over.
A hand reached under his nose and slipped the paper back into the drawer.
“Not mad,” Lin Yuan said. “What are you afraid of?”
Shen Leyuan felt even more ashamed, his nose stinging as he hung his head dejectedly. “I’m not afraid, it’s just… sorry.”
He said he’s not mad.
Why apologize? Why look so down?
Is he upset… for me?
Lin Yuan couldn’t grasp the young man’s emotions—how could they run so deep? Inappropriately, he wondered if it was his age, a generation gap, him not getting the young man’s world.
“Little Deer’s hard to teach.” He stiffly changed the subject. “Salary bump tomorrow.”
Shen Leyuan: “Huh?”
Seeing him snap out of his regret, Lin Yuan relaxed, his tone lightening. “Call it mental distress compensation, plus for the scare the other day.”
He said: “Here’s a blank check. Fill in whatever.”
It was the simplest way to cheer someone up, and the man had it down pat.
Shen Leyuan was thrilled.
Big boss, your lavish, thousand-gold generosity is so cool!
His eyes sparkled at Lin Yuan as he gushed excitedly: “Thank you, thank you! I’m fully motivated now—right back to studying. I’ll whip Little Deer into a normal, good kid in no time!”
With that, he turned and marched off, not even mentioning the home visit again.
Go home? Nah—Little Deer’s confinement ends tomorrow. Time to rewrite the lesson plans with this Adolescent Psychology book. Make sure tomorrow’s class is flawless!
Lin Yuan: …
Watching the young man’s vigorous, high-spirited back, he puzzled again.
Why does it never go how I expect?
The next day’s class was indoors.
Two students: inner disciple Little Deer and auditing student Sheng Shisi. The incorrigible outer disciple Lin Yao predictably skipped.
Confinement was showing results—Little Deer was eerily obedient, not interrupting once.
But this wasn’t good either.
After reprimands, some kids got sensitive and bruised egos; others grew fearful with lasting shadows; some rebelled harder, which hurt teaching progress.
Criticism was to make them better—not just grades, especially since this tutoring gig didn’t care about “academic scores” in the usual sense.
After class, Little Deer tidied his notebook on his own and headed to rest.
Shen Leyuan followed. “Little Deer!”
Little Deer turned slowly, clutching the notebook, eyes downcast. “Teacher, is there something?”
No excitement, no cheers—just distant chill.
Like he’d finally realized the flaw in his feelings and was pulling back.
But Shen Leyuan knew teenage boys’ hallmark: forget the beatings but remember the food. They charged ahead blindly, won’t turn back until hitting a wall—especially Little Deer, whose worldview was unique. No way he’d be this rational.
He brought Little Deer to the office, leaving Sheng Shisi outside, for a one-on-one with his headache student.
“You were so quiet today, Little Deer. What were you thinking?”
He skipped gentle coaxing like with other students—instead, he asked straight, seeking truth. Otherwise, talks veered into unwanted territory.
Little Deer answered obediently: “I was thinking, if I study hard, Teacher will like me.”
What kind of talk is that, silly kid?
Shen Leyuan nearly blurted: “Studying isn’t for the teacher’s sake.”
Sigh, occupational hazard.
After weighing it, he voiced a long-held curiosity: “Can Teacher ask… why do you like me, Little Deer?”
Little Deer paused, deep confusion in his eyes.
Why do I like Teacher?
He’d liked lots before: rowdy dummy brother, silent bodyguard A Si, the therapist chatting with him, even his scary dad who treated him bad.
But now, it all blurred.
His heart filled only with Teacher—fragrant, sweet, glowing Teacher. Teacher who hugged and soothed him, taught right from wrong, ached for him and fought Dad.
Eyes full of Little Deer, seriously listening.
“Because…”
He looked up at the young man earnestly. “Because Teacher’s wonderful. Worthy of Little Deer’s like.”
Shen Leyuan: “Everyone’s good to Little Deer…”
He hesitated, unsure, forcing out: “…Everyone’s good to you.”
Weird—why do I picture Little Deer with no real connections?
Nearly a month here: classes with him, bickering with brother, meals with big boss, lately Sheng Shisi. Other “friends” only in his mouth.
The bodyguards never even talked to him, like…
Little Deer’s reply snapped him back: “They’re good too, but not like Teacher!”
Shen Leyuan: “How not?”
“They… the way they like Little Deer…” Little Deer couldn’t articulate, growing frantic, back to his usual aggrieved pout. Petulantly: “Just different anyway!”
The kid was “normalizing” a bit—Shen Leyuan relaxed, coaxing: “If you can’t explain, it doesn’t count as real like, huh.”
But Little Deer really likes Teacher!
Wants to be with Teacher forever—hasn’t looked at anyone else in ages!
The boy was desperate, near tears, finally blurting: “They lust after my body!”
Yes, yes—that’s it.
Little Deer, emboldened: “They lust after Little Deer’s body! Little Deer doesn’t like! Teacher doesn’t lust after Little Deer’s body—that’s why Little Deer likes!”
What the hell… Shen Leyuan’s face darkened. “Your brother teach you that?”
Little Deer nodded: “Yeah! Brother says everyone’s lusting after Little Deer’s body—except him. He really likes Little Deer.”
