Chapter 6

Li Zhuo had once heard roughly where the Teacher’s Apartment was during idle chat with his deskmate, but he’d never imagined he’d actually go there—let alone follow a teacher.

As they got closer to the apartment, the number of students they ran into dwindled, while more and more teachers appeared—some Li Zhuo knew, others he didn’t.

It felt like stepping into territory that wasn’t his. Li Zhuo stayed silent, sticking close to Mo Liang without a word.

He worried what he’d say if a teacher he knew asked why he was there, or what he should say if Teacher Mo ran into an acquaintance and they started chatting while he just stood awkwardly beside them.

Back when he was still with the Li family, scenes like that happened often. Each time, he’d stand there like a block of wood—either saying nothing at all, or blurting out something he thought was clever, only to be laughed at for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Li Xuan, on the other hand, seemed born knowing what to say at any occasion, and how to deal with different people in the moment.

But for Li Zhuo, that was incredibly hard.

He might seem worldly, might seem mature and sensible beyond his years, but that was only on the surface. He could do household chores better than Li Xuan—what good did that do?

Whenever it really counted, when he had to present himself, he always messed up. Speaking up was wrong, staying silent was wrong. Over time, he came to dread those moments.

Luckily, the awkward small talk he’d feared never happened. Every teacher they passed seemed to tacitly keep to themselves, no one stopping to exchange pleasantries. They just nodded faintly and walked on.

First floor, second, third… they’d arrived.

Li Zhuo watched Mo Liang fish out a key and open the door. Just inside was a small entranceway. From the doorway, he could glimpse a bit of the living room and part of the kitchen beyond.

The decor inside was somewhat like the Psychological Counseling Room—simple, fresh, in a warm wood style. At a glance, a warm yellow glow spilled across the pale wooden floor, wrapping the whole apartment in a hazy warmth.

Even the brightly colored painting hung on the wall by the door gave Li Zhuo a feeling of comfort and familiarity, as if it had appeared in a dream before.

“What are you standing at the door for? Come on in.”

Seeing the clean floor, Li Zhuo awkwardly searched for something in the shoe cabinet, but Mo Liang noticed and gently interrupted.

“Don’t worry about changing shoes. I didn’t either. Just come in.”

Li Zhuo had been in a daze the whole way. From entering the apartment, to watching Mo Liang deftly set hot, steaming dishes on the table one by one, to being led to the kitchen to wash his hands, then being pulled over to sit down…

Even with chopsticks already pressed into his hand, everything still felt surreal, as if it couldn’t possibly be real.

“Hurry up and eat.”

Mo Liang had only served Li Zhuo a bowl of rice, making no move to eat himself. He just gazed at him.

“Give it a try. If anything doesn’t taste right, tell me. I’ll adjust next time.”

All of this… Teacher Mo made?

Six plates of varying sizes and a soup tureen sat on the table. The two meat dishes were braised beef with potatoes and blanched shrimp, the dipping sauce bowl encircled by neatly arranged large prawns. The vegetable dishes were homestyle tofu and stir-fried choy sum. The soup was morel chicken soup—besides the chicken and morels, it was brimming with goji berries, longan, Chinese yam, red dates, and more.

Alongside the beautifully presented dishes, there was also a cut fruit platter and a dessert. The long table was nearly overflowing.

Li Zhuo thought, if it’s just the two of them eating, this is way too generous, and way too much food, isn’t it?

“Teacher Mo, are we waiting for someone else?”

Mo Liang looked like he couldn’t understand why Li Zhuo would ask such a question. He ladled some chicken soup and pushed it towards him.

“Wait for who? All of this is for you.”

“……”

Mo Liang read the unspoken words on the child’s face. He smiled gently. “Nobody’s telling you to finish it all. Just try a bit of everything, that’s fine.”

He watched Li Zhuo pick up a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth. The muscles in his cheeks moved as he chewed, his eyes widening involuntarily, revealing obvious delight and satisfaction.

The chicken was braised to exactly the right tenderness, the greens kept to a perfect crispness, and the other dishes were seasoned just right—like a precise textbook.

“It tastes good,” Li Zhuo emphasized. “Really, Teacher Mo, your cooking is delicious.”

He genuinely thought Mo Liang’s cooking was good, but lacked the words to offer anything particularly creative. He just kept repeating how delicious it was.

Mo Liang didn’t mind his bland praise. Smiling, he just said it was good if he liked it.

Then Li Zhuo noticed that Teacher Mo’s place was still empty and that he hadn’t served himself any food. He asked, “Teacher Mo, why aren’t you eating?”

“I’ve already eaten.” Mo Liang’s tone was as kind as ever. “I don’t have to wait for the end of class like you do. I get off work early… go on, eat.”

In that instant, a flicker of something off crossed Li Zhuo’s intuition, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

He hadn’t eaten much at lunch that day and had been in class for so long. He really was hungry, so he didn’t dwell on it and let himself eat his fill.

“Slow down, slow down…”

Mo Liang ladled another bowl of soup for him, glancing out of the corner of his eye at how much was left on the table.

His child wasn’t a picky eater—greens, meat, shrimp, he ate everything. He didn’t just stick to what he liked. That was a very good eating habit.

He thought so, and said so aloud in praise.

A string of “good child” after “good child” reached Li Zhuo’s ears. That fleeting doubt resurfaced. He felt something strange, but couldn’t articulate what.

When the meal was over, Li Zhuo stood up and automatically started clearing the dishes, but Mo Liang held him back.

“Leave those. I’ll take care of it.” Mo Liang smiled and pointed to the living room. “Go play.”

“But…”

Looking up at the teacher who was so much taller than him, Li Zhuo felt an unfamiliar sense of unease.

In his understanding, getting something always meant giving something in return—like planting seeds before a harvest, or working before getting paid.

In the Li family, he’d been abandoned because he failed to meet his parents’ expectations. Now that he’d eaten someone’s meal, washing dishes and cleaning was the repayment he could think of.

He had never received undeserved kindness. No one had ever told Li Zhuo what to do in a situation like this, or what he could even do.

Can a person receive good things for no reason at all?

“Teacher Mo, why are you so good to me…”

Gazing into those clear, bright eyes, Mo Liang felt his heart simply melt.

A meal with a little appetite stimulant, and already it’s called “good”? he mused to himself.

“My child, this is nothing yet.”

I long to offer you my everything. Seeing you frown fills me with unprecedented frustration and self-reproach, ■■… Your every tiny movement, every glance, makes my heart ache with pity and tenderness. If only I could… ■■, ■!

Emotions he had never felt before surged and churned wildly. In an instant, a thousand terrifying thoughts flickered through his mind, racing each other. But in the end, he merely patted Li Zhuo’s head and, following the guide the System gave, lowered his voice to a gentler register.

“They say teachers are gardeners nurturing seedlings. I’m your teacher, after all. Of course I should cherish this tender little sprout of yours. It’s a teacher’s duty to their student.”

Still the picture of a good teacher, Mo Liang spoke vaguely about living alone and being lonely, saying it would be nice if Li Zhuo could visit more often to chat.

“Alright, I get it.”

They chatted idly about whether Li Zhuo was adjusting to his new school since transferring. Lunch break soon ended. Li Zhuo took his leave, and Mo Liang naturally offered to see him off.

Early April was the cusp between spring and summer, the temperature utterly unstable. At noon under the baking sun it was scorching, but come afternoon, it started to turn cool again.

Li Zhuo and Mo Liang walked through a wisteria corridor. One more turn and they’d be in the area of the Teaching Building. He looked up at the orange sunset in the distance, then at the tall man beside him.

That indescribable feeling surfaced again.

“What are you looking at me for?” Mo Liang met his measuring gaze, a gentle smile on his face. “What would you like for breakfast tomorrow? How about I make you some egg custard?”

“B-breakfast?”

“Yeah, my apartment isn’t far from your dorm. Coming here is way more convenient than the cafeteria.”

“……”

He couldn’t believe it—they had only known each other for less than a day, yet the way Teacher Mo talked and acted with him was so natural and familiar that Li Zhuo couldn’t help wondering for a second whether they’d actually known each other for years.

Back at his seat, overly full from dinner, Li Zhuo kept turning the question over in his mind. His deskmate had turned around and was chattering away with the person behind them about some game.

“So Teacher Mo is your relative?”

Deng Yuliang had just gotten a game item he’d been wanting for ages from the back seat and was in a great mood.

“No, I just met him today.” Li Zhuo explained very seriously, “We bumped into each other in the hallway at noon. He invited me to the Psychological Counseling Room…”

Deng Yuliang looked a little skeptical, but he had to admit one thing:

“…But honestly, that Teacher Mo really doesn’t seem as fierce as the rumors said.”

“Maybe the student from before mistook him for someone else?”

Li Zhuo couldn’t explain the rumors either, so this reasonable possibility was all he could come up with.

“Who knows about that…”

They didn’t have much time to chat. As soon as the warning bell rang—even though class hadn’t officially started—their elusive Head Teacher was already standing at the podium with a textbook.

The head teacher’s surname was Zhang. He was a middle-aged man of average build and on the thin side, with a pointed, slightly simian face. That’s why behind his back the class all called him Old Zhang.

“Take out your earlier practice book…”

Li Zhuo opened his exercise book. As he followed Head Teacher Zhang’s explanation of a classic problem type that was supposedly guaranteed to be on the exam, he realized he’d gotten this one wrong too.

He listened intently, following the teacher’s reasoning to solve the problem, and didn’t forget to jot down the key points the teacher mentioned in his little notebook.

Li Zhuo might not be some naturally brilliant genius top student, but he was definitely an obedient one. During class, he paid full attention and never got distracted.

By the time he resumed pondering the questions that had stumped him that day, the entire day’s classes were over, and he was already washed up and lying in his dorm bed.