Chapter Five: Miss Field’s English Lesson

… In this society, connections are everything. Whether someone supports you at the starting line or you have no one to rely on, the outcomes are vastly different. Sometimes, it only takes a word from an acquaintance or a casual opportunity offered to spare you years of detours. These are lessons she learned through years of struggle—hard-won, paid for in blood and tears.

Truthfully, the teachers are all quite easy to get along with. Although she didn’t often interact with them during school, as a student she understood their temperaments well; she simply didn't want to waste time on these matters.

She remembered a certain Mr. Guo, now likely still a man in his forties, experienced and skilled, who had recently lectured at Xu Cheng's company. Winning his favor was simple: he was very talkative, always engaging in lively discussions with students after class. Most students, herself included back then, had no desire to listen. Yet those few who did, later received his recommendation and landed rare internship opportunities. More importantly, his abundant life experience and knack for summarizing lessons meant that many things she’d dismissed as idle chatter were, in retrospect, full of wisdom—though by the time she realized it, regret was already too late.

Then there was the beautiful Ms. Yang, winning her over was easy: just casually cast a look of admiration, compliment her beauty and figure, and sincerely ask her advice on clothing or makeup. She would immediately see you as a confidant.

Ms. Ma, the Chinese teacher, was like a kindly mother, overflowing with maternal affection. If you approached her and accepted her care, she would absolutely treat you as her own child. … Though one thing must be remembered: always speak standard Mandarin with her. She was obsessed with diction, and it was under her slightly dissatisfied gaze that she painfully practiced for months to finally perfect her pronunciation…

The crisp sound of the class bell interrupted her thoughts. She quickly stood up, hurried back to the dormitory for her books, and raced up to the second floor. No sooner had she settled into her seat than the English teacher entered—a petite figure in an oversized red suit, wearing rimless glasses. She greeted the class in a sweet, gentle voice, “Good afternoon, class!”

“Good afternoon, teacher!” The students stood in unison, greeting her. A few boys exchanged sly glances, while the girls quietly giggled, thinking the teacher’s fashion sense left much to be desired.

Dong Yanyan felt a pang of sympathy. She knew that later, this unkempt young teacher would finally crumble under the teasing of her juniors, mortified and utterly humiliated. The result was a new obsession with style—she transformed herself into a pure, student-like figure. The effects were plain to see: when she reappeared on campus, many boys failed to recognize her and eagerly approached, asking which class she was the new freshman in… This incident became the coldest of jokes at school.

Dong Yanyan preferred her as she was now: earnest and passionate, with the dignity of an educator.

A new lesson began. Dong Yanyan listened to the teacher’s fluent English, trying hard to match the sounds with the phonetic symbols in her book, but even those she could barely recognize now. As her classmates engaged warmly with the teacher, she suddenly realized the greatest challenge: how could she reclaim knowledge lost over ten years in a single day? She had learned all this once, but her classmates were building seamlessly on their past studies—just a bit of effort, and they could easily keep up. She, on the other hand, had forgotten nearly all the basic vocabulary, not to mention math and physics… Her head began to ache.

Because it was the first English class, her desk mate Liu Qiang was especially excited. This boy, with not a hint of seriousness, was excellent at English. Seeing Dong Yanyan lost in thought, he kindly nudged her arm, hoping to get her attention back to the lesson.

“Huh?” Dong Yanyan startled, quickly raising her head and locking eyes with the teacher.

“Good! Could you answer my question?” The adorable Ms. Tian looked at her expectantly.

My God! Wasn’t this just setting her up for embarrassment? Dong Yanyan shot Liu Qiang a covert glare, blushed, stood up, and finally managed to stammer, “I’m… sorry…” She hadn’t understood a word the teacher said, let alone the sentences on the blackboard that seemed half-familiar yet incomprehensible.

The whole class burst into laughter.

Dong Yanyan’s teeth itched with frustration. She barely endured until the bell rang. Liu Qiang, acting as if nothing had happened, was about to leave when she grabbed him, “Liu Qiang, you were just trying to make me look bad, weren’t you?”

Liu Qiang stared at her, his face reddening as he finally couldn’t help but show his mischievous little tiger teeth, laughing loudly and repeating, “I’m… sorry…”

“Get lost!” Dong Yanyan, furious and embarrassed, kicked her chair at him. Liu Qiang dodged nimbly. Being in the front row, the chair slid unimpeded all the way to the door, stopping neatly at someone’s feet. The teacher at the door watched as the chair moved on its own, face darkening. Dong Yanyan’s leg was still raised in triumph, not yet withdrawn.

Cold sweat broke out on her forehead—it was Mr. Chen, the homeroom teacher, whose class was next!

“How could this happen? How could this happen? I wanted to leave a good impression on the teacher! The first day of class, the very first day!” Dong Yanyan wailed inwardly, quickly jumped up, ran to the teacher, moved the chair to the podium, and smiled ingratiatingly, “Please, teacher, have a seat.”

Mr. Chen smiled softly, nodded his thanks, placed his lesson plan on the desk, and lowered his head to prepare.

Dong Yanyan returned to her seat, hastily searching for the book needed for the next class.

Liu Qiang, seeing his chair gone, glared at her and stammered, “W-what about me?”

“What about you? Just find another chair in the back.” Dong Yanyan grinned sheepishly. In her memory, there were always two or three unused chairs against the back wall.

Liu Qiang, frowning, went to the back of the classroom and found three lonely chairs. One was lame; another had only three legs; the last one was barely usable but looked ready to fall apart.

He gritted his teeth: I’ll fix it!

Poor Liu Qiang spent all ten minutes of recess repairing the chair. Clang clang—I'm a happy little carpenter! In this school, students had to be all-rounders: fix the plumbing, repair the radiator, change light bulbs, mend the TV, and sometimes even take up the ladle themselves. This venerable old building, besides leaving behind famous ghost stories, gave students invaluable hands-on practice and the joy of self-sufficiency. Of course, if you didn’t want to do it yourself, the school sure wouldn’t offer you the chance for a comfortable life.

After half a month, the students had resigned themselves to their fate with a bitter smile.