Chapter 2 Faint Dream,startling marks

The white fox’s figure suddenly vanished in the dream.

Su Liwan jolted awake from her sleep, her back soaked in cold sweat. She raised a hand to wipe the dampness from her forehead, her gaze falling on the lit phone screen — Zhou Hu had sent a message: “I’ll pick you up after school tomorrow. I’ll take you somewhere nice.”

She stared at the line for a long time. Her fingertip hovered over the input box, deleting and rewriting several times, before she finally replied with only one word: “Okay.” Just like the “Mm” she sent to Qin Ruhai the night before, same length, yet utterly different in meaning.

The “Mm” to her teacher was distant, cold, a deliberate distance kept.

The “Okay” to Zhou Hu was consent, surrender, a willing closeness.

Su Liwan rolled onto her side, burying her face in the soft pillow. She hated to admit it, but the recklessness and straightforwardness in that delinquent had her utterly hooked. He spent money without a second thought — over eight hundred yuan on a street food dinner the night before, not even a frown. The way he looked at her was full of unbridled possession and desire. That naked gaze made her both terrified and strangely thrilled.

And Qin Ruhai? His eyes toward her were always gentle and restrained, careful, as if holding a fragile treasure, afraid it might shatter with the slightest force.

She wanted gentleness, but deep down, she craved to be utterly possessed.

The next morning, Su Liwan was late.

She rushed into the teaching building just as the bell rang for class. Her schoolbag strap slipped off her shoulder repeatedly, and her long hair was too messy to tidy. At the stairwell corner, she nearly crashed into someone.

“Careful.”

A warm hand steadied her shoulders firmly, with just the right amount of force, then quickly pulled away.

Su Liwan looked up and met Qin Ruhai’s gentle gaze.

He wore a light blue shirt today, sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms, revealing neat, well-defined lines. His hair was neatly combed, his eyes behind the lenses warm as jade, a faint smile on his lips that invited closeness yet dared not rudeness.

“P-Professor Qin… good morning.” Su Liwan lowered her head in a fluster, her voice flustered.

“Why are you in such a hurry again?” Qin Ruhai asked softly, no blame in his tone, only a touch of helplessness. “The stairs are crowded. What if you fell?”

“I… slept in. I didn’t want to be late for class.” She mumbled defensively.

“Set an alarm next time. Don’t keep cutting it so close.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Hurry to class. It’s about to start.”

Su Liwan walked past him with her head down. In that brief brush, a faint scent lingered around her nose — not heavy perfume, but the clean smell of sunlight on laundry.

Her heartbeat skipped a beat, for no reason at all.

Qin Ruhai stood there, watching the girl’s back as she ran up the stairs. Her school uniform skirt swayed lightly with her steps, loose hair falling by her neck, not even a moment to fix it. He almost called out to tell her to be careful, but swallowed the words hard.

He couldn’t.

He couldn’t show her even the slightest extra concern.

Yet the hand that had held her remained in its previous position, his palm still seeming to hold the warmth of her shoulder. He slowly curled his fingers into a fist, stuffed it into his pocket, and turned toward the office.

You are the teacher. She is the student.

Any care for her must stop at the proper limit.

Su Liwan had just settled into her seat when the class bell rang on time. Her deskmate Lin Xiao leaned over, nudging her gently with an elbow.

“Late again? What were you up to last night?”

“Nothing. I just overslept.” Su Liwan replied casually, reaching into her bag for her textbook.

After searching for a while, she realized with a start that she had left her math textbook at home. Distracted by Zhou Hu’s message the night before, the book had fallen out of her bag without her noticing.

“Oh no…” she whispered.

“What’s wrong?” Lin Xiao peeked over. “You forgot your textbook? First period is math!”

“I left it at home.” Su Liwan’s face paled.

First period was math.

Qin Ruhai walked into the classroom, and the whole room fell silent. He never needed to shout or scold; standing quietly at the podium was enough to make everyone focus.

“Turn to page forty-two. Today we’ll talk about the monotonicity of functions.”

Su Liwan lowered her head, pretending to flip through a book, but her desk was empty, not even a scrap of scratch paper.

Qin Ruhai explained for a moment from the podium, his gaze sweeping the class, pausing briefly at her seat. He saw the girl with her head down, her ears red, nothing on her desk.

He did not call her out, did not scold her, did not even linger longer. He only turned back to write on the blackboard, his pace slowing unconsciously, as if thinking quietly to himself.

“For this example problem today, I’ll ask a student to come up and demonstrate.”

The classroom fell completely silent. Everyone lowered their heads, avoiding eye contact. Su Liwan also buried her face tightly, silently praying she wouldn’t be picked.

“Su Liwan.”

Her entire body stiffened.

“Come up.” Qin Ruhai’s voice remained calm, holding out a piece of chalk to her.

Su Liwan walked up to the podium stiffly. The moment her fingertips took the chalk, they brushed lightly against Qin Ruhai’s. The touch was as gentle as a breeze, yet it sent a sudden warmth through her fingers.

She looked up at him, but he was looking down at his lesson plan, his expression unchanged.

The problem was not difficult — it was the homework she hadn’t finished the night before. Su Liwan thought for a moment and began writing, but halfway through she suddenly froze, chalk hovering over the blackboard, unable to fall.

All eyes in the class were fixed on her.

Her ears grew hotter, fine beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Here.” A hand reached from behind, gently covering hers, guiding her to complete the steps on the blackboard.

Qin Ruhai’s deep, gentle voice fell above her head, without a trace of improper thought: “The key to this problem is to first determine the axis of symmetry, then judge the function values at the interval endpoints. Understand?”

“…Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.

His chest was almost pressed against her back, warm breath brushing the top of her head. Su Liwan’s mind went completely blank.

Qin Ruhai let go, stepped back to the podium: “Finish the rest.”

She nodded numbly, hastily completing the remaining steps. When she returned to her seat, her legs felt slightly weak, her heart racing almost out of control.

She did not see that, the moment she turned around, Qin Ruhai hid the hand that had touched her behind his back, clenching it tightly, his knuckles turning slightly pale.

After class, Su Liwan lay on her desk, unwilling to move. Lin Xiao immediately leaned over to gossip quietly.

“Wow, Professor Qin personally taught you how to do the problem!”

“He just… happened to be explaining that part.” Su Liwan whispered.

“Yeah, right. Last time I asked him a question, he just wrote the idea and told me to figure it out myself.” Lin Xiao winked. “Professor Qin definitely treats you differently.”

Su Liwan fell silent. She knew Qin Ruhai was special to her, but refused to dig into what lay behind that difference.

The phone vibrated suddenly. It was a message from Zhou Hu: “I’ll pick you up this afternoon. We’ll go to the mall. Pick whatever you want.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Su Liwan’s lips as she read the message. Zhou Hu’s favor was straightforward and rough, yet it made her feel utterly secure — she knew exactly what this man wanted, and exactly what she could give.

She replied: “Okay.”

Then locked her phone and set it aside.

The sun shone brightly outside the window, but in her heart, half was warmth, half was panic.

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