Chapter Forty-three: Holding Your Hand

When Dong Yan saw him, her heart surged with excitement. She tried to appear calm and smiled, “I thought you’d come to the dorm looking for me—I waited there for quite a while! Let’s go!”

Lin Feng ran down from upstairs and stood before her. Dong Yan lifted her head and smiled at him.

Xinran was displeased, glared at Lin Feng, and then quietly went upstairs alone.

“It’s pretty cold out, you should wear a trench coat before we leave. I’ll wait for you,” Lin Feng said with a smile.

*

The weather was indeed chilly. Autumn in the northeast was short; after November, it felt like winter had already arrived. Dong Yan wore a short trench coat and jeans, walking side by side with Lin Feng down the street. The wind swept coldly over them, and she still felt a bit frozen. Many girls on the street were still wearing stockings and short skirts, which made her feel rather cowardly in comparison.

“Why am I always so afraid of the cold? Haven’t I exercised enough?” She muttered in confusion to herself.

“It’s because you’ve exercised too much. Yan, you work so hard, you’re always pushing yourself. You deliver newspapers in the morning, set up a stall at the night market in the evening, and take part-time jobs on weekends. Health is the foundation of everything—if you exhaust yourself, it’s not worth it,” Lin Feng turned to her, sounding genuinely concerned. This touched Dong Yan in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“How did you know I was working part-time outside?” she asked in surprise. She hadn’t even told her roommates, worried they might think she was just out for profit.

“I saw you. Last Saturday, I spotted you at the night market, standing there alone for hours,” Lin Feng replied, smiling.

Dong Yan laughed awkwardly, “I must have looked pretty awful, huh! Well, you’ve seen it, so be it. Just promise me you won’t tell the teachers! Otherwise, I’ll get another lecture. Honestly, I don’t do it for the money—my allowance is enough. I just want to see how far I can push my potential. Our school doesn’t have many courses; it feels like such a waste of time.”

“I think there are plenty of other ways you could challenge yourself without working so hard. It’s good to be diligent, but balance is important too—work and rest in moderation,” Lin Feng said earnestly.

“You make a lot of sense. I’ve been thinking about what else I could learn. I hope you’ll teach me to play guitar!” Dong Yan seized the opportunity.

“Of course,” Lin Feng replied with a smile.

After passing the next intersection, they would reach the music shop. Dong Yan was used to crossing intersections at right angles—first walking on the side with the green light, timing it just right to catch the signal, then crossing again at the next green.

Lin Feng walked beside her intimately, which left her with a small pang of disappointment. In the past, she always followed behind him when crossing the street. Later, when she was with Xu Cheng, he would always carefully hold her hand. Back then, her innocent heart was moved by such small gestures.

Thinking of Xu Cheng holding Liu Siying’s hand yesterday—so naturally, so tenderly—made her heart ache a little.

Suddenly, a harsh horn blared. She looked up to find an old minibus bearing down on her. Her mind went blank, and in that instant, Lin Feng yanked her onto the sidewalk. She stumbled into him.

Sweat broke out on her forehead as fear belatedly struck: how close she’d come to disaster!

“In a rush to reincarnate, are you? Who drives like that?!” She recovered, stomping her foot angrily at the departing minibus.

“Don’t be upset, as long as you’re all right,” Lin Feng said, taking her hand as they walked into the music shop ahead. It was a small shop, with all kinds of instruments arranged behind the glass windows. Dong Yan didn’t know much about them, but she liked what she saw.

Lin Feng spent over an hour carefully picking out a wooden guitar. Realizing it was getting late, they both hurried back, carrying their new instrument.

When they reached the second-floor classroom, the hallway was empty. Dong Yan checked the time: two minutes late!

“I bet the teacher isn’t here yet,” Lin Feng said, hopeful.

“I bet the teacher is. Ms. Ma is always punctual,” Dong Yan replied pessimistically.

...

*

Ms. Ma was calling the roll at the front of the classroom when a knock came at the door.

“Come in!” she said. Lin Feng, holding the guitar, smiled apologetically, “Sorry, teacher, I’m late.”

“That’s all right, take your seat,” Ms. Ma replied kindly.

At that moment, Dong Yan slipped in through the back door, bending low, and returned to her seat as if nothing had happened. One person being two minutes late was nothing, but if two arrived together, the teacher might start imagining things.

The lesson was on Bai Juyi’s “Song of the Lute.” The teacher randomly called on a student to read the text, and unfortunately, that student was Song Mingcheng. Dong Yan knew him well—no matter the passage, he read everything in four monotonous tones: flat, rising, turning, and falling, with not a hint of emotion.

“At the riverside of Xunyang—by night! Maple leaves and reeds—rustling in autumn! The host dismounts—on the boat! ... still holding the lute—half concealing her face! ...” His reading was remarkably rhythmic.

Strangely, the girls adored this, thinking it was cool.

Ms. Ma was an exception. She preferred students who read with feeling. After enduring the monotony of “Mr. Calm,” she decisively called on Jiang Fan to read it again.

Then came the analysis of the text, which Dong Yan loved—she could speak her mind freely. Ms. Ma brought a passion and romantic spirit to her classes that made them lively and engaging.

Song Mingcheng remained completely immune to the atmosphere, keeping his cool pose and occasionally snickering. Dong Yan noticed he was struggling to suppress his laughter and grew curious, so she quietly asked, “Seatmate, what’s so funny?”

Song Mingcheng stopped smiling, discreetly pointed to the corner at the back of the classroom where the trash can sat, and three flies buzzed above it: sometimes forming a V, sometimes a straight line. He watched their formation changes, unable to contain his amusement each time he glanced their way.

His sense of humor was truly elusive.

Lin Feng, beside them, was puzzled and turned to look. Dong Yan subtly pointed out the flies; after a moment, Lin Feng understood and merely smiled. Next to them, Yang Xiaohai, not understanding, looked at the group, looked at the flies, then solemnly raised his hand and announced loudly, “Teacher, there are three flies on the trash can!”

Ms. Ma, who had been passionately lecturing at the podium, paused for a second. The students all turned, whispering and snickering. Ms. Ma, usually gentle, was now annoyed!

If this mischief-loving student found something out, it never ended well! So, Yang Xiaohai was duly scolded, and the class lost two points on this month’s hygiene assessment. As the class monitor, Jiang Fan felt utterly helpless in the face of this unexpected disaster.