Chapter 11
The avatar incident had been a rollercoaster, but Lin Zhengmo put aside her doubts. The morning flew by with classes, time slipping through her fingers.
Zhao Xiaoxiao had a special talent—waking up a minute before class ended. The dismissal bell rang, and Xiaoxiao bolted up, ready to eat. She stuffed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.
"Bye, Ms. Lin!"
"No sleeping in class next time."
"I was listening! Attributive clauses are easy—I've got this!"
She was wildly unbalanced: top of the class in English, bottom in math, sometimes an 80-point gap between the two.
Xiaoxiao grinned and dashed out. Her cousin was a teacher, so she ate at the faculty apartments. Bursting through the door, she chirped:
"Cousin! I'm back! What's for lunch? Smells amazing!"
Jian Yue turned from the kitchen. "Wash your hands."
Xiaoxiao was Jian Yue's cousin, left in her care during lunch since her aunt was busy. Originally meant to eat in the cafeteria, she'd whined about the food. Jian Yue had caught her eating street noodles—greasy and unsafe—so she took over, feeding her and letting her nap.
"Back so soon?"
"Starving! And you're a peerless master chef—I look forward to this all day!"
Jian Yue laughed at her dramatic expression. "More rice?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Xiaoxiao hopped around, fetching dishes like a lively squirrel, even pulling out Jian Yue's chair. "Have a seat, Cousin~"
"Extra sweet today—what's the catch?" Jian Yue sat, seeing through her.
"Math test sucked again." Xiaoxiao pouted. "Last place. Don't tell Mom."
"If she asks, I can't lie."
"No! She'll tan my hide!" Xiaoxiao switched tactics. "But I got first in English! If she asks, say you don't know about math, but heard I did great in English."
Jian Yue smiled. If only Xiaoxiao applied that wit to math.
"Ms. Lin praised me today, said I'd be perfect if I didn't sleep so much." Xiaoxiao beamed at the mention of Lin Zhengmo. "She's the best teacher ever!"
Jian Yue raised an eyebrow. "That into her, huh?"
"Obviously! You don't get it—she's the best in the world!"
Oh, I get it, Jian Yue thought. I rate her even higher. "We don't know each other well."
"Of course—you're the busy director, the grade's little top. No time for Ms. Lin." Xiaoxiao added slyly, "You spend all free time on that person."
That person—the one in Jian Yue's phone. Xiaoxiao couldn't fathom why her talented cousin was hooked on online dating. "Cousin, be careful. Online guys can fake themselves into heartthrobs—don't get scammed!"
"Is that so." Jian Yue thought, You know too much for a kid—how much phone time are you sneaking?
Xiaoxiao pressed: "What's so great about them? Rich?"
"Not about money. They provide value."
"What kind of value?"
"Emotional." Jian Yue smiled softly. "I'm happy with her."
Xiaoxiao frowned, confused. She'd never seen this smile on Jian Yue—usually so composed, like she could handle anything. This... didn't bode well. Is she a love fool?
"Take Ms. Lin—reliable, gentle, thoughtful. That's who you should date." She thought, Your online thing is nothing!
"She's a woman." Jian Yue dismissed, not looking up.
"Cousin! You know about 同性恋 (same-sex love), right? Women can date women now!"
"Cough." Jian Yue looked up, surprised. "Where'd you hear that?"
"Novels! I read femslash novels on Jinjiang Literature City—they write about it!"
Jinjiang Literature City? Which author? Corrupting my cousin! Jian Yue thought. Kids knew too much these days. Coming out wasn't an option—elders would freak. "Stop going on about Ms. Lin. Tell me about math."
"Ugh—" Xiaoxiao buried her face in rice. "Let me eat first."
Work ended, and Lin Zhengmo visited her parents. Love, marriage, kids—inescapable topics for women in their thirties, like "secular ghosts haunting women, besieging and preying on us." She never understood why her family pushed marriage so hard after college.
She'd read a post once: a girl asked at dinner, "Why must I get married? Why let a man's dirty parts enter me?" The table fell silent. Lin Zhengmo felt like one of countless women caged in such expectations, cold yet sweetened by parents' so-called love.
"Made your favorite sweet and sour pork ribs." Her mother, Zhou Jingfang, placed the dish down. "Lao Lin, set the table."
"Right." Lin Hong, her father, rose with exaggerated solemnity, wrinkles like intentional creases. Lin Zhengmo disliked his stiffness.
Tuesday dinners were mandatory—three sides of a square table, "missing one side," as Lin Hong put it, implying she needed a spouse. Filling that side felt like an uphill battle.
"How's work?" Zhou Jingfang put the meatiest rib in Lin Zhengmo's bowl.
"Good. Everything's smooth."
"Glad to hear it." Her mother nodded, reciting the script: "Stable job, good health—all we want."
Lin Zhengmo knew what came next, so she stayed quiet.
"Only one thing left." Zhou Jingfang glanced at Lin Hong.
He said: "Zhengmo, it's time to consider..."
Their tone was gentler with age, but every word weighed on her, a stone on her chest. "I'm not ready yet."
"Strange." Zhou Jingfang addressed Lin Hong. "What's wrong with our daughter? Suitors line up, but she won't open the door. Where's the issue?"
"Beats me." Lin Hong played along.
"Dear," Zhou Jingfang turned to her. "We all get old. You need company—your cat can't care for you. Professor Feng from your father's school—his son saw your photo, asked multiple times. We didn't give your number without your say."
This polite pressure was learned—her family's "false politeness" hid strong demands.
"Give him my number, then."
"Good." Zhou Jingfang smiled, placing another rib in her bowl. "Eat more—you're losing weight."