Chapter 118: The Beautiful Teacher

Back at school, my days were pretty relaxed — reading books, writing papers. One day, Zhang Yan told me that the school was about to hold a drama festival, and Wang Dali and I had to spend three hours every evening helping out.

I wasn't sure how much help we could actually be, but since it was for credits, I had no choice but to go.

Both Wang Dali and I were on the drama club's committee — which basically meant doing odd jobs. Zhang Yan planned to stage the classic tragedy Romeo and Juliet for the festival. Due to time constraints, the play was adapted into a fifteen-minute version. She was playing Juliet, and Ye Shiwen naturally took Romeo.

When we first heard the casting, we rolled our eyes. Those two had been showing off their couple moments everywhere lately; now they were going to flaunt it openly on the school auditorium stage!

My impression of Zhang Yan was that she was a bit pretentious, but things have two sides. Once she put on the wig and costume and stood on stage, she really let loose. Meanwhile, Ye Shiwen looked a bit stiff, so Zhang Yan took him under her wing, coaching him on how to act.

The actors rehearsed hard every night while Wang Dali and I basically lounged around. I'd bring a book and wait out the time.

One night after rehearsal, Zhang Yan and Ye Shiwen didn't bother changing out of their costumes and got cozy backstage — only to be caught by a club member. Zhang Yan stammered that they were "exchanging acting techniques," but everyone teased them about it for a good while...

One evening after rehearsal, it was already nine o'clock. Wang Dali and I rushed to serve tea and water to the actors. Zhang Yan took a cup and teased, "Wow, Detective Song himself is serving me water. I'm honored."

I replied, "Can you stop calling me 'Detective Song'? It sounds so weird!"

"Come on, tell us a detective story!" she urged.

...

...

The others egged me on too. They often asked me to share cases. I usually fobbed them off with some of my grandfather's old cases, but tonight Zhang Yan insisted I talk about one of my own. So I decided to tell them about the recent car accident murder — it had already been in the newspapers, so no secrets.

The case wasn't too complicated, but everyone listened eagerly. Halfway through, a clear voice interrupted:

"Oh? What's the topic? Sounds interesting!"

A beautiful woman approached us. She wore a tight red sheath dress that accentuated her curves perfectly. High heels clicked on the floor, a small bag hung over her shoulder. Her hair curled slightly at the ends with red tips, and layers of bangs veiled her right eye, adding a sexy mystery.

Wang Dali spit out his water: "Whoa! Who's this gorgeous lady?"

The male members stood up and greeted, "Hello, Teacher Li!"

She nodded graciously, "Hello everyone." Then she glanced around at the new faces and said, "I'm Li Wenjia, the advisor for this club."

Turns out every club had an advisor. The role was mostly honorary, like a figurehead principal, and most advisors didn't get involved much.

Li Wenjia taught psychology and checked in from time to time. She was attentive to the club's needs and quite responsible. Everyone liked her, especially the guys — many of them secretly had a crush on her.

Zhang Yan stood up and said, "Teacher Li, this is Song Yang. He's no ordinary student, he—"

"Hey, hey!" I tried to stop her. Can you not spread that around?

But Zhang Yan's mouth was unstoppable. She spilled the beans. Li Wenjia smiled and extended her hand:

"So you're the teenage detective. Nice to meet you."

Zhang Yan egged me on: "Come on, Song Yang, show us your skills! Last time, you just glanced at Ye Shiwen and nailed his background. Amazing!"

That last part was to the whole group. Everyone was amazed — so I was some kind of Sherlock Holmes? I silently cursed Zhang Yan's ancestors.

Li Wenjia laughed with genuine interest: "Detective Song, how about you read me?"

"Yeah, show us your talent!" Zhang Yan chimed in.

I didn't want to show off, so I kept trying to decline. But the mood suddenly shifted:

"Detective Song must be fake. Probably has relatives in the police."

"Yeah, all talk, no proof."

"All reputation, no real skill."

I got annoyed, glanced at Li Wenjia coolly, and said:

"Teacher Li, forgive my bluntness, but you're left-handed, you have a white dog, you fractured your right leg at about age seven or eight, you're currently dieting and had to be hospitalized for malnutrition, you were born in the north, your parents have passed away, and you keep ancestral tablets at home. Also, your right eye is blind."

Everyone went quiet. Li Wenjia looked a bit flustered and pushed her hair back:

"Left-handed because my left nails are worn down. Dog hair on me sometimes. Born in the north from my accent. How did you get the rest?"

"You have uneven leg length, probably from an injury during growth. That's why I guessed age seven or eight. Am I right?"

She nodded, "Yes, I injured it when I was eight."

The guys laughed, praising my keen observation.

She asked, "What about malnutrition?"

"Your complexion and hair tips give it away. Plus, a needle mark on your hand — probably from an IV."

"Parents passed? How do you know I have tablets? Have you been to my house?" she stared at me like I was some kind of miracle.

"Of course not. You have a faint burn mark near your fingernail and abrasions on your knee — likely from kneeling at the ancestral altar to pray. Maybe you believe in Buddha or God. I just got lucky."

"That's all true!" she nodded approvingly.

"What about your eye?"

"Using one eye to see changes the focus technique. When you walked in, I noticed you covering your right eye with hair — it must be inconvenient, so I observed more carefully."

"Impressive! That's amazing!" She covered her mouth in surprise.

Zhang Yan bragged, "See? Told you Song Yang's amazing!"

Everyone started praising me. Someone asked how she lost her eye. She smiled casually:

"I was sick as a kid. It's nothing now. One eye works fine."

But subtle tells betrayed her inner feelings — she was lying. I didn't press. Maybe she had her reasons.

Wang Dali, who had been silent, finally spoke up:

"Zhang Yan, you're unfair. Don't just introduce Song Yang — what about your assistant here?"

Zhang Yan said, "Teacher Li, this is Song Yang's best buddy, Wang Dali."

"Hello!" Li Wenjia shook his hand.

Wang Dali eagerly said, "Teacher Li, you study psychology. Can you read minds? Guess what I'm thinking?"

Li Wenjia laughed: "Psychology studies human mind and behavior. I'm not as good as Song Yang reading people in a glance."

Zhang Yan teased: "I know what that guy's thinking — he's just admiring how pretty Teacher Li is."

Wang Dali yelled, "That's obvious! Teacher Li, I'm really interested in psychology too. Can I add you on WeChat to ask questions?"

She thought for a moment: "Typing on WeChat is inconvenient. I'll give you my email."

Everyone buzzed around her chatting, but she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

I might have imagined it, but her gaze carried a flicker of cold hostility.

It vanished as quickly as it came.

Back then, I didn't understand what that look meant — only later, when I was deep in mortal danger, did I realize its true meaning.