【Her · The Intern Teacher】
My name is Shen Zhiyi, twenty-two, a senior, a teacher-training major, student council president, class monitor — every line on my résumé neat and spotless. On my very first day, the teacher supervising my internship praised me in front of the whole office: “Little Shen is the easiest of this batch of interns — clean-cut looks, steady work.” I lowered my head and smiled, said she was too kind. I was used to praise like that, the way I was used to my own face — long straight black hair down to my waist, round eyes, a smile that looked a bit meek. Most people assumed at first glance I hadn’t even graduated yet.
The place I got assigned to was a cram school for adult art-exam students, taking in grown students who’d failed the college entrance exam and were retaking it for art academies, plus a batch from vocational colleges hoping to transfer up into a bachelor’s art program. In other words, everyone sitting in my class was eighteen or older, some already twenty-one or twenty-two — barely younger than me. When the supervising teacher handed me the roll book, she even teased, “Careful they don’t mistake you for a classmate and run off with you.”
At the time I just smiled politely and didn’t take it to heart. I thought this semester would pass quietly — teach, mark drawings, supervise evening classes, write my internship journal, then wait to graduate, wait to see my long-distance boyfriend.
My boyfriend was named Xu Jing. We’d been together since sophomore year, long-distance for two. He was in grad school in another city, busy; I was busy too, and for the past six months all that was left between us was “you there?”, “going to sleep,” and read-with-no-reply. Last week we fought again over something small, and in a fit of temper I packed my bags and applied, on my own initiative, to intern at this school — the farthest from home. I couldn’t even say clearly whether I was trying to escape him or make him chase after me. He didn’t chase.
【Him · Gu Zhao】
My name is Gu Zhao, twenty, a seasoned old hand in the adult art-exam class. One year of retaking, and this was my second run at the art academy. Six-foot-five, and when I sat in the back row of the studio I blocked half the class’s daylight. Lots of girls in the class, I got along with everyone, could banter with anybody, and yeah, I’d had on-again-off-again little flirtations with a few of them — nothing unusual in an older cram class like ours.
So when the new intern teacher pushed the door open that day, she caught my interest at first glance. She was so different. Other teachers walk in with a “Quiet, please.” She walked in with a “Sorry to bother you,” her voice so soft it was like she was afraid of disturbing someone. Long hair, white shirt, eyes that curved when she smiled — standing at the podium like a good student who’d wandered onto the wrong set. I gave my pen a spin on the desk, and a voice in my head said: this one’s interesting.
【Her · The Intern Teacher】
First class, I was teaching gesture drawing. Halfway through, I noticed the extra-tall boy in the back row kept looking at me. Not at the blackboard — at me. It made me uneasy, so I deliberately called on him: “Gu Zhao, tell us about the line of action in this one.”
He stood up unhurried, drew himself straight like a flagpole, looked down at me from above and said slowly, “Teacher, the center of gravity of this line of action is in the waist.” He paused, one corner of his mouth curling up. “Same as where your center of gravity is, standing there.” The whole class burst out laughing. My face went hot in an instant. I pretended not to catch it and told him to sit down.
After class I was washing my hands at the sink by the hallway when he followed me out, leaned against the wall — so tall he had to bow his head just to talk to me. “Teacher Shen, did you just graduate? You look younger than a bunch of girls in our class.” I told him to mind his manners. He grinned, utterly carefree. “I’m complimenting you. With your kind of looks, people would take a second glance at you on the street — especially when you don’t even know it.”
【Him · Gu Zhao】
I knew I was hitting on her. I just wanted to see her blush. The more she put on that “I’m the teacher, so behave” act, the more I wanted to see through it. While I was packing up, the girl sitting next to me leaned over and murmured a warning, “Gu Zhao, don’t go messing with that new teacher. She’s a decent girl, not like you.” I just smiled and said nothing. Decent girls are the interesting ones. The easy ones bored me long ago.
【Her · The Intern Teacher】
That night I lay in my little rented studio, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Xu Jing still hadn’t messaged me that day. I stared at the ceiling, and against my will the face of that tall boy from the afternoon kept drifting through my mind, along with that line of his — “especially when you don’t even know it.”
I told myself he was just a smart-mouthed student; grown or not, he was still a student, and I was his teacher. But there was a very, very small voice inside me that I never dared admit to — being praised like that, so bluntly, with that little edge of aggression, made my heart beat a little fast. Xu Jing hadn’t looked at me that way in a long, long time.
I lit up my phone screen and let it go dark again. Empty. I rolled over and told myself: go to sleep, Shen Zhiyi, don’t overthink it, you came here to intern, not to get into trouble.
But what I didn’t know was that some things had already started sliding downhill — from the very first day he grabbed me in the hallway to talk.