Chapter Sixteen: The Hand on the Windowsill

... That voice, even if it turned to ashes, Dong Yanyan would recognize it instantly. It was Director Tang, the head of discipline—a man with sharp eagle eyes and a hooked nose. In the school, he occupied a position second only to the principal; apart from the principal, no one held more sway than him. He was notorious for his arrogance, and aside from the elegant homeroom teacher Yang from the broadcasting class, every other teacher was firmly suppressed by him.

She quickly turned around and obediently greeted, "Hello, Teacher Tang."

Teacher Tang nodded slightly and asked, "What is the central idea of this essay?"

"In short, it's the waves of the Yangtze River pushing forward, the old waves are dashed onto the shore!" Dong Yanyan replied triumphantly.

"Oh? Ambitious, aren't you? Want to dash us onto the shore already?" Teacher Tang raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a cold smile.

Dong Yanyan couldn't help but shiver, hastily explaining, "Teacher, that's not what I meant. Our generation is living through a period of societal transformation; we're the ones being experimented upon. The future we face is likely ten times harsher than what you once faced. If we don't strive now, we'll not only be dashed by you, the entrenched seniors, but also by the younger ones coming up behind us. In short, we're stuck in the middle—it's miserable!"

"That's not entirely correct. We might be your obstacle, but we're more willing to be your support now. It all depends on whether you are clever enough!" Teacher Tang laughed.

Seeing his expression soften, Dong Yanyan hurried to flatter him, "Aside from our parents, only teachers give selflessly without expecting anything in return. That's why we'll cherish these precious four years on campus. With you here, I feel even more confident, because a strong general never has weak soldiers."

"You're a clever student, but you must guard against arrogance and impatience. If you ever have any questions or difficulties, come to me—I'm happy to help." Teacher Tang patted her shoulder and walked out leisurely.

Dong Yanyan stood frozen for a moment, listening to his footsteps fade away. Only then did she pat her chest, still shaken, "Oh dear, he scared me to death! Why did he come here? Why didn't you give me a heads-up?" She turned to Lin Feng with a playful complaint.

Lin Feng gently patted her head and smiled, "You handled it well! You left a good impression on the teacher; he'll look after you in the future."

"That's not necessarily true," Dong Yanyan dismissed his optimism. She was no naive girl anymore. Most teachers at this school were decent, but this one was particularly cunning and sinister. According to seniors who had graduated, he never did anything without profit; if you wanted convenience from him, you had to be ready for his hidden rules—money or something else. She'd seen enough of the world not to risk provoking this tiger for some petty gain.

Lin Feng noticed her distant, cold smile and asked, puzzled, "What are you thinking about?"

Dong Yanyan raised her head, her gaze dreamy as she tapped her fingers on the desk, pretending to be profound, "The elder’s surname is Tang—sweet enough to be tinged with sorrow."

That nearly made Lin Feng burst out laughing.

He had no idea how much Dong Yanyan longed for a chance to have a few more words with him, to even catch one more glimpse of his youthful smile.

*

Late at night, when all was quiet, was the time for sleeplessness. Dong Yanyan was accustomed to writing after ten o'clock; it was when inspiration flowed and no one disturbed her. She habitually took her place in the last row, in the corner, lit a candle, and took out the thick new notebook she'd bought today. In that era, many students were used to studying by candlelight after lights-out; no one could explain this strange phenomenon, so perhaps it was simply suited to that peculiar breed.

Half an hour later, the class sports monitor, Leng Haoyang, entered, sitting directly in the middle of the classroom at Yang Ruining’s spot. Soon after, Yang Ruining herself came in, and without hesitation, sat on his lap.

Leng Haoyang was a year younger than Dong Yanyan, sharing a dorm with Xu Cheng. He was one of the few wealthy young men in the class, popular enough, but with a venomous tongue, often sharp and tactless. Yang Ruining was the class beauty, also from a good family; she didn’t speak much, appearing cold and aloof, but was actually very easy to get along with.

A little later, Zhang Lei, Leng Haoyang’s dormmate, tiptoed in, followed by the timid Du Xinmeng. The two found a spot near the wall and began whispering intimately.

Less than a month into the semester, and already there were two couples.

Dong Yanyan pretended not to see, burying herself in her writing.

“He turned around and looked at the mirror behind him. Suddenly, he was stunned! There was no one in the mirror—not a soul! So where was his shadow? Where had his shadow gone?...” Dong Yanyan was engrossed in her horror story when suddenly a piece of chalk landed on her desk, startling her into a shriek!

"Dong Yanyan, it’s so late—why aren’t you back in bed?" Leng Haoyang turned and complained.

Dong Yanyan tossed the chalk back to him, smiling sarcastically, "Soon you’ll realize that this super third wheel is actually useful. For now, just pretend I’m not here! Let’s not interfere with each other." She lowered her head again, diving into her terrifying story, the suspense mounting, the tension rising. She had no idea how much time had passed when suddenly, behind her, the door creaked open.

Dong Yanyan quickly grabbed her English textbook, flipping it open to cover her notebook, and turned to block the incoming Teacher Wang. The two candles in front of her were snuffed out in an instant. Those couples moved fast!

"Teacher, you gave me a fright!" She clutched her chest and smiled apologetically to the dorm-checking Teacher Wang.

"It’s late—why aren’t you back in your dorm?" Teacher Wang asked, shining his flashlight around the classroom. Because Dong Yanyan was blocking his view, the others had already hidden under the desks, motionless, invisible from his angle.

"There's English class tomorrow, and I wanted to memorize a few words," Dong Yanyan replied, feigning caution.

"Put out the candles and hurry back," Teacher Wang said kindly.

"Understood." Dong Yanyan obediently began packing up. Teacher Wang turned and left, and only when his footsteps faded upstairs did the four others stand up from their spots.

"Yanyan, thank you!" Leng Haoyang smiled at her ingratiatingly, switching to a friendlier tone.

Dong Yanyan merely shrugged. It was nothing—back when she and Xu Cheng used to sneak out for dates, Leng Haoyang was often their cover, too. Thinking of this, she suddenly felt a pang of guilt for her own naive, reckless youth.

"The teacher will be back soon. Let’s get out of here," she said, glancing at the time—almost midnight. She blew out the candle, and the four others packed up, preparing to return to the dormitory.

The corridor was quiet and chilly. As Dong Yanyan reached the stairwell, she suddenly saw a hand appear at the window, then another hand slowly climbing up the sill. This was the second floor, and the ghost stories about it were still vivid in her memory. Before her mind could process it, her mouth had already screamed, "Zhang Lei, Zhang Lei, come quick—there are two hands here!"