Chapter 011: Teacher Chen

“I can’t help noticing the look in your eyes,” Cao Yuchuan said, ever the gossip. “Come on, tell me, who are you checking out? Have you already found a clue?”

Zhang Tan would never reveal his secret. He merely replied, “Just paying close attention to the teacher.”

He told Cao Yuchuan to listen carefully, but his own gaze wandered, sifting through his memories of his classmates.

That one over there, scratching his head, was Liang Wei, his desk mate from back then—a guy always convinced of his own charm, but in truth, quite irritating. Over there, the dark-skinned boy with wide eyes fixed on the teacher was Ye Zhiqiang, the self-proclaimed captain of Class Seven’s soccer team, though the humanities class could barely muster enough players for a team. That man with thick brows and a perpetual gentle smile, looking older than his years, was Ding Chunlong, the former class monitor.

On this side, the chubby girl with a fierce expression was Wang Xin, nicknamed Tyrannosaurus. Nearby, another round-faced girl with a gentle demeanor was Sun Lulu, the class’s perennial good Samaritan—she had once helped Zhang Tan wash his clothes. Not far off sat a bespectacled girl with a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth: Yang Yuejiao, the first girl to ever appear in Zhang Tan’s dreams.

Over there was Li Jianjun, whose seated height rivaled others standing—tallest in Class Five. Closer by was Yan Bingbing, a homely fellow with a thick beard, also from Zhang Tan’s hometown; despite his name meaning “ice,” he was very much male…

Yuna’s speech was brief, and by the time Zhang Tan had revisited everyone in his mind, it was time to assign seats.

The seating principle was simple: boys and girls in alternating rows, taller students toward the back, shorter ones up front. At a temporary height of one sixty-five, Zhang Tan was a bit on the short side and was best suited for the middle rows.

But he didn’t bother to move. He’d already chosen a spot by the window.

Leisurely, he watched the others under Yuna’s direction, bustling as they shifted desks and chairs—a scene he found oddly nostalgic.

“Why aren’t you moving?” Yuna’s voice called from behind just as he was settling in.

She had already noticed Zhang Tan—hard not to, with his head shining conspicuously from afar, his haircut catching every glint of light. Among students, he was especially hard to miss.

“I’ll sit right here, Miss Yuna,” Zhang Tan replied with a smile.

Yuna frowned. “But I noticed earlier that you’re not that tall. Are you sure the back suits you?”

“Miss Yuna, trust me,” Zhang Tan declared with mock seriousness, “I still have plenty of room to grow.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, though she quickly regained her stern demeanor. “Still, I hope you’ll reconsider. Sitting in the back, taller classmates might block your view.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m quite happy here.”

No matter what, this spot—his favorite—was his now.

His desk mate was no longer Liang Wei, but Cao Yuchuan. And the one he watched most closely, Liu Jing, had chosen a seat in the middle of the third row. Whenever Zhang Tan looked at the blackboard, her silhouette would be right in his line of sight.

Of course, this didn’t mean Zhang Tan was going to stare at her with lecherous intent.

After all, he was a man in his thirties now, who’d seen all kinds of women. The budding girls of this age held little allure for him. Having been given a second chance at life, he was content to let things unfold naturally and enjoy the experience.

Once the seating was settled, Yuna announced that she needed some boys to help move books from the administration office.

Immediately, a group of restless, eager-to-impress boys volunteered and followed her out. Cao Yuchuan joined them, but Zhang Tan stayed put, leaning against the desk at the back, pondering how he might make his mark this time around.

If memory served, after the books were handed out, Yuna would have everyone introduce themselves and name their idols.

Last time, eager to assert his individuality, Zhang Tan had declared, “My idols are Napoleon and Hitler!”

And that was that.

Oh, right—he remembered now. After he finished, a girl named Ruan Xiaoting had piped up, “Our Dalmatian at home is named Hitler.”

It had been mortifying.

“So now, who should my idol be?” Zhang Tan asked himself.

…

Standing at the blackboard, Yuna did her best to project the authority expected of a teacher and class advisor. “Class, what is the purpose of our studies? It is to gain useful knowledge, and to learn how to be a good person, how to become outstanding… Have you ever thought about what kind of person you want to be? Today, to get to know both each other and ourselves better, let’s each share who our idol is.”

“Teacher, you should go first!” called out a girl with a laugh.

“Alright,” Yuna agreed readily. “My idol is Edith Södergran. She was a Finnish poet, whose life was tragic but whose talent was brilliant. In an unfortunate era, she faded away in sorrow, but time has proven that her beauty was like a meteor across the sky… Let me recite one of her poems for you.”

“‘I Shall Walk Through the Solar System.’”

“Walk.”

“I shall walk through the solar system.”

“Before I notice the loose thread on my red dress.”

“I have already begun to sense myself.”