Huo Tingfeng’s lips trembled a few times, nearly bringing tears to the tough guy’s eyes.
Who the hell does Shen Leyuan think I am?!
His hand tightened, but before he could type out his question, he snapped back to reality and hurriedly let go.
Mr. Ghost didn’t respond for a long time.
Shen Leyuan guessed he was nervous, guessed he was shy, but never guessed he was feeling guilty.
He chuckled and said, “When you said your surname was Chu back then, it sounded so familiar. Last time I was being stalked, the beat cop mentioned his armed police friend was nearby—a tall guy, nearly two meters, super handsome. That was you, right?”
“I mistook someone else for you and made you wait for hours in vain. I’m really sorry about that.”
As he spoke, Shen Leyuan opened WeChat to show Mr. Ghost the beat cop’s chat. But after clicking in, he suddenly remembered their last conversation—where the cop had said Mr. Chu’s body was already at the crematorium—and quickly backed out.
He didn’t want to dredge up Mr. Ghost’s painful memories.
But Huo Tingfeng, right beside him, had seen it all crystal clear.
Before he could process it, he heard the young man say regretfully, “If only I hadn’t mistaken you back then.”
If he hadn’t made that mistake, he could’ve met Mr. Chu sooner, and none of the mess that followed would’ve happened.
Little Deer wouldn’t have been targeted, Mr. Huo wouldn’t have ended up in the hospital, the plot would’ve stayed on its original track, and things wouldn’t be such a chaotic mess now.
At first listen, it sounded just like Shen Leyuan truly despised Huo Tingfeng.
His panic intensified, and in his line of sight appeared the young man’s hand, accompanied by a smiling question in his ear: “Let’s get to know each other again. Care to introduce yourself, Mr. Chu?”
Huo Tingfeng dazedly gripped that hand and typed: [No]
Shen Leyuan’s eyes curved into a smile.
Mr. Ghost is so thin-skinned. Shy again?
Huo Tingfeng’s heart cooled along with the sweat on his palm as he desperately analyzed the situation: He thinks I’m some guy named Chu, and that guy’s already dead. And I’ll be leaving soon anyway, so…
“Mr. Chu, I’ll be heading back to the neighborhood in a bit. Anything you need me to help with?”
[No need,] Huo Tingfeng said: [What’s past is past.]
The identity crisis “ended” just like that.
Two days before National Day, Little Deer seemed afraid of disturbing his teacher, so their video calls grew noticeably shorter. He’d even take the initiative to say goodbye, sweetly coaxing his teacher to rest.
Director Hao was thrilled: “At this rate, we might actually get him to move out for a few days. We can slowly test his influence and changes, and Old Lin can relax a bit too.”
Shen Leyuan nodded and hung up the call with a touch of melancholy.
Though their fight had been fierce, seeing Lin Yao strut into school so boldly proved the big shot had taken his words to heart.
If only it’d been like this sooner, he wouldn’t have had to quit his job…
He glanced behind him and softly sighed before calling out, “Come out!”
Lin Yao ducked behind a tree.
“Three, two—”
Before he could say “one,” the young man casually greeted him as if nothing was wrong: “Hey, teacher. What a coincidence.”
Shen Leyuan asked, “Thirty days in a month, and twenty-seven of them you’re tailing me and ‘happening’ to take the same route. That a ‘coincidence’ too?”
Lin Yao’s gaze drifted sideways: “But there were three days we didn’t?”
Shen Leyuan: “Today is September 27th.”
Lin Yao quietly shut his mouth.
He’d been seriously stalking, but also pondering what his teacher liked. That glaring red hair had long since been dyed black, and now, with his head hung low and not daring to look at his teacher, he seemed much more obedient than before.
Teacher’s mad, he thought.
But in this past month, aside from chasing him off, Shen Leyuan had barely interacted with him at all. So now, Lin Yao felt almost flattered and surprised—even getting scolded was sweet.
Anyway, he’d been rude before. Teacher getting mad was only fair.
But Shen Leyuan just asked gently, “You refused the psychologist Director Hao recommended because you’re resistant to that sort of thing?”
Lin Yao’s voice shot up: “I don’t want…”
He paused, then mumbled softer: “I don’t want anyone else as my teacher. I only want you.”
Shen Leyuan: “That’s a psychologist, not a tutor.”
I know that, Lin Yao grumbled aggrievedly. “But if I accept a psychologist, you won’t come back as my teacher.”
He mimicked Little Deer’s coy act, his tone all pitiful: “Teacher~”
The little dog in his arms quietly yelped once.
Teacher~~~
Eww, gross!
Shen Leyuan didn’t notice the little dog’s marvelous expression and cut to the heart of the matter: “So, you’re determined to cling to me?”
Lin Yao: …
Why isn’t this going like I thought? He coos over Little Deer when he acts spoiled!
Shen Leyuan suddenly asked, “Do you like me?”
What? Like how? What does teacher mean?
“No!” Lin Yao blurted, then panicked to explain: “I mean, not—not that video confession from before, that was because…”
Shen Leyuan: “I mean, like a student likes a teacher.”
Lin Yao calmed down, suppressing the inexplicable shyness and faint disappointment bubbling up, and answered honestly: “Yeah.”
Truth be told, from the first time he’d watched his teacher tutor Little Deer, he’d been envious.
So many people liked Little Deer, but this one was different. He taught Little Deer how to communicate, how to get along with others, what was right and wrong, how to tell good from bad—always with a gentle, patient tone, never yelling or hitting.
Like a mom…
It was something Lin Yao had lacked for years, something he’d always yearned for.
Some people claimed to like Little Deer, but wherever the teacher was, their eyes stayed glued to him—unaware until the teacher’s gaze fully shifted away, like a parched traveler in the desert finally realizing their true thirst.
Shen Leyuan asked, “Do you want me to like you?”
Lin Yao’s breathing quickened as he asked expectantly: “Can you, teacher? I’ll be good. I can be as good as Little Deer. See, I already dyed my hair. You like black hair, right?”
Shen Leyuan: “I have no issue with any hair color on college students.”
“What I’m saying is, could your feelings for me be because…” He chose his words carefully: “Because you’ve transferred some childhood expectations onto me?”
“You want someone to stand in front of you, to comfort and stay with you when you’re hurt, to stand up to your abusive father for you, to give you a safe harbor from the storm. And I happen to have some of those qualities.”
“That’s transference. It’s a sign you really do need a professional to help you unpack it.”
“No!” Lin Yao had never felt so distressed: “From the start, I…”
“From the start, you hated me,” Shen Leyuan pointed out his initial behavior. “You saw me as your romantic rival, a potential little stepmom teaming up with Lin Yuan, a proponent of outdated education—the exact kind of person you despised most.”
His excuses crumbled powerless before the facts, Lin Yao’s face paling bit by bit as he heard Shen Leyuan say, “I don’t blame you.”
Teacher had never gotten mad, and Lin Yao was grateful for that.
But in this moment, he suddenly understood why Shen Leyuan never got mad.
Why hold it against a patient?
He’s not doing it on purpose.
If it’s a problem he can’t solve, just keep your distance.
Like now, as he gently refused: “Normal people don’t stalk the ones they ‘like.’ If you can, please consider my advice.”
“I’m a teacher. All I can do is teach and guide. I can’t give you more than that.”
Lin Yao hurriedly said, “All I want is—”
The little dog woofed fiercely, not wanting to hear it.
Shen Leyuan petted the little dog’s head and waited for the young man to finish.
Under his teacher’s gaze—mild yet calmly knowing—Lin Yao swallowed his words, his throat catching before he continued: “I’ll go to the psychologist. If I can…”
“Shen Leyuan!” Glasses Guy waved from the gate: “Over here! Bus is almost here!”
Lin Yao watched dispiritedly as his teacher left, not daring to follow.
By coincidence, as Shen Leyuan reached Glasses Guy, the bus pulled up. Students filed on one after another. Unsure if there were seats left, Shen Leyuan eyed the vibrant group of youths, his brows furrowing.
“Let’s take a cab,” he said.
Glasses Guy was already aboard and called back: “Come on, three seats left at the back!”
Shen Leyuan didn’t hear, his focus on his phone.
Glasses Guy hopped off and told the aloof guy: “Cab works too—saves the detour. Our Shen bro’s loaded, never takes the bus. Gotta bleed this rich dog dry someday!”
Shen Leyuan finished ordering the ride and looked up just in time to catch that.
He froze: “Have I never taken the bus?”
“Nope,” Glasses Guy gave examples. “Last group dinner, bus was right there—you didn’t board. Botanical Garden trip? You cabbed everyone. Movie night too…”
The more he heard, the more puzzled Shen Leyuan grew.
From the transmigration until now, he really hadn’t taken the bus.
Just then, another bus pulled up. He stared at the interior, watched the college kids pile in with their bags, laughing and chatting, and a strange dizziness hit his mind.
The swerving truck, screeching brakes, pain—and—
Whose scream?
“This one, Shen bro?” Glasses Guy read the plate number, then whipped around to steady him: “Whoa, you okay? Heatstroke?”
Yanked from the car crash memory, Shen Leyuan clutched his chest, gasping, face ashen as he thought: Just advised Lin Yao to see a psychologist, but turns out I need one more.
Buses, doctors—he recoiled at the thought.
But he had to go.
That afternoon, with a spare moment, Shen Leyuan messaged Director Hao: [Is the psychologist you recommended for Lin Yao nearby? Can you recommend one for me too?]
Director Hao nearly asked you too? but then figured, with all the crap Shen Leyuan dealt with, it’d be weirder if his head was fine. Pressure was brutal—anxiety, depression, OCD, who didn’t have something these days?
After chatting, he messaged the psychologist: [I’ll swing by when I’m free too.]
Psychologist replied instantly: [Not interested 🙂 ]
Director Hao: [Come on, not abusing my position. I’ll pay!]
Psychologist: [You’re stressed out with depressive vibes, second-guessing your mental state. Go home, chat with your wife, let her comfort you. Don’t come dump on me.]
Director Hao: …
Fine, spot on. He just wanted someone to vent to.
About that mute-love from Lin Yuan.
Meanwhile, the psychologist set his phone down and opened the WeChat for the copper-coin avatar, replying: [So, you think there’s something wrong with your memory, right?]
The response: [Yes.]
Suppressing his excitement, the psychologist typed leisurely: [Alright, let’s schedule a time to talk in detail.]
Finally! Finally!
Shen Leyuan was coming in for a session!
Over a month ago, he’d friended Shen Leyuan on a burner account, dropping hints to come see him, even had the pet shop doc send his card twice. No dice.
Until today—success!
Mid-celebration, his main account pinged with a friend request: familiar copper-coin avatar, note reading: Hello, Mr. Hao recommended you.
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