Chapter 3:Evening breeze and heavy Motorcycle

The last class in the afternoon was self-study. The classroom was so quiet that only the rustle of pens across paper could be heard. Su Liwan could not sit still, glancing out the window every now and then.

Lin Xiao poked her with a pen. “Why are you so distracted today? Something up?”

“Nothing much,” Su Liwan forced a smile. “I have something to do later, so I want to leave early.”

“Alright, I’ll cover for you if the teacher asks.”

As soon as the school bell rang, Su Liwan packed her things almost immediately and hurried toward the school gate. Just as she reached the stairwell, a voice called out to her.

“Su Liwan.”

She turned around. Qin Ruhai stood at the end of the hallway, holding a math workbook.

“Professor Qin?” she sounded surprised. “Haven’t you left yet?”

“I’ve been waiting for you a while.” Qin Ruhai walked slowly closer and held the book out to her. “Take this workbook home and go through it. The problems inside are great for final review. If there’s anything you don’t understand, you can come to my office and ask me.”

Su Liwan took the book and flipped through a few pages casually. It was brand new, yet there were several pencil annotations inside, neat and delicate handwriting—exactly Qin Ruhai’s.

“Is this your own book?” she asked softly.

“Mm, I use it often when preparing lessons, and marked some common mistakes.” Qin Ruhai smiled faintly. “It should be useful for you.”

Su Liwan held the book to her chest, a complicated feeling surging inside her. This was not some discarded old item, but something he had carefully studied and personally annotated—a thoughtful gesture hidden beneath his restraint.

“Thank you, Professor Qin. I’ll read it carefully.” Her voice was softer than usual.

Qin Ruhai nodded, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but it finally turned into a reminder. “It’s not safe outside lately. Go home early after school, don’t stay out too long.”

“I understand, thank you.”

Qin Ruhai turned and left. After a few steps, he suddenly stopped, not looking back, and added one more line. “That book… read it well.”

Su Liwan stood in the hallway, watching his figure disappear around the stair corner. The setting sun streamed through the window frames, dyeing the hallway warm gold. She looked down and opened the first page. A line of small pencil writing caught her eye:

“Mathematics is beautiful, but don’t let it be your everything.”

She stared at the words for a long time before closing the book, holding it tightly, and hurrying toward the school gate.

At the gate, Zhou Hu’s motorcycle was already waiting. Today he rode a more imposing heavy bike, its body darker and more flamboyant, with a helmet tied to the back seat. When he saw her coming out, Zhou Hu took off his sunglasses and tilted his chin toward her.

“Took you long enough. I’ve been waiting forever.”

“Sorry, I just ran into a teacher.” Su Liwan said quietly.

“A teacher? Which one?” Zhou Hu asked casually.

“My math teacher.”

Zhou Hu snorted. “Whatever teacher. Get on.” He tossed the helmet to her.

Su Liwan caught it, a sudden daze washing over her. Earlier in the hallway, Qin Ruhai had handed her a book, saying softly, “Take this.” Now Zhou Hu threw her a helmet, saying sharply, “Get on.” One was gentle as spring breeze, the other violent as summer thunder.

She put on the helmet and sat on the back seat.

“Hold on tight.” Zhou Hu reminded her.

“Mm.” She gently wrapped her arms around his waist.

Zhou Hu started the engine. The loud roar drew stares from passersby. He deliberately revved the throttle, letting the sound spread down the whole street. Su Liwan gripped the hem of his clothes tightly; the wind howled past, blowing her long hair loose.

“Scared?” Zhou Hu shouted, turning his head.

“A little…”

“Good. Stick with me, and there’ll be plenty more excitement ahead.”

The two arrived at the busiest shopping mall downtown. Zhou Hu led her straight into a women’s clothing store, pointed at a row of exquisitely made clothes on the wall, and said:

“Pick whatever you like. Take anything you want.”

Su Liwan looked at the price tags, and her heart raced. A dress cost over a thousand, a coat over two thousand—her father’s monthly salary couldn’t even buy two items here.

“This… it’s too expensive.” She whispered in protest.

“Expensive, nothing.” Zhou Hu waved it off, casually taking a coat and draping it over her. “You look good in anything. The more expensive, the better you look.”

Su Liwan stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself. The coat fit perfectly, soft and comfortable against her skin, as if tailor-made for her. She turned slightly, the hem fluttering gently—the girl in the mirror was as bright as a model in a magazine.

“Does it look good?” She looked at Zhou Hu.

Zhou Hu leaned against the doorframe, squinting at her with a cigarette between his lips. “Of course it does. The woman I, Zhou Hu, have my eye on—how could she not look good?”

Su Liwan smiled sweetly, spinning once more in front of the mirror. Then suddenly, as if remembering something, she took off the coat and hung it back.

“What’s wrong?” Zhou Hu frowned.

“It’s still too expensive. I can’t take it.” She insisted.

Zhou Hu stepped forward, pulled a thick stack of cash from his pocket, slapped it on the counter without counting. “Wrap it up.”

The clerk hurried to respond. “Right away, sir. I’ll pack it for you immediately.”

Su Liwan opened her mouth, but said nothing in the end. Watching the clerk carefully pack the coat and hand it to her, her heart was filled with mixed sweetness and bitterness.

Sweet because someone was lavishing her with things she had always longed for.

Bitter because she vaguely understood that the price of this gift might be more than she could ever afford.

By the time they walked out of the mall, it was already dark. Zhou Hu took her to a Western restaurant, complete with steak, red wine, and candlelight. Su Liwan was not used to using a knife and fork; after struggling for a long time, she still couldn’t cut off a piece of meat.

“You’re really clumsy at this.” Zhou Hu laughed, casually swapping his already cut steak with hers. “Here, eat this.”

“Thank you.” She whispered.

“Stick with me, and you’ll eat like this every day.” Zhou Hu said, swirling his wine glass.

Su Liwan took small bites of the steak, saying nothing.

“What, you don’t believe me?” Zhou Hu leaned closer, the smell of tobacco and alcohol washing over her. “When I, Zhou Hu, say something around here, it always counts.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you.” She put down her knife and fork, gently dabbing her lips. “I just… don’t know what exactly you want from me.”

Zhou Hu burst out laughing, drawing stares from nearby tables. When he finished, he stared deeply into Su Liwan’s eyes and spoke word by word:

“What do you think I want?”

Su Liwan did not answer, lowering her head and poking idly at the steak on her plate with a fork.

“I want you.” Zhou Hu’s bluntness was almost suffocating. “Your body, your everything from now on—they can only be mine.”

Su Liwan’s heart jolted violently. She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze. There was no tenderness, no restraint, only naked possession and plunder.

This feeling terrified her, yet also drew her in.

“I’ll take you home.” Zhou Hu stood up and draped his coat over her shoulders.

The motorcycle sped through the night. Su Liwan sat on the back holding the bag with her new clothes, the wind stinging her eyes slightly. She closed her eyes, two scenes overlapping in her mind—

One was Qin Ruhai standing in the warm golden hallway, handing her a book and saying softly, “Take this.”

The other was Zhou Hu leaning against the storefront, smoking, saying confidently, “The woman I have my eye on—how could she not look good?”

She opened her eyes, watching the neon lights blur past like a flowing river of color.

Su Liwan did not know what she really wanted. Perhaps she wanted everything—the gentle restraint of Qin Ruhai, the domineering possession of Zhou Hu; pure and clean affection, and tangible material security.

She did not know that this greed would eventually drag her into an abyss beyond redemption.

The motorcycle stopped at the entrance of her neighborhood. Su Liwan took off her helmet and handed it back, holding the paper bag as she prepared to get off.

“Wait.” Zhou Hu grabbed her wrist, pulled another thick stack of cash from his pocket, and stuffed it into her hand. “Take this. Go out with your classmates tomorrow, don’t be stingy.”

Su Liwan weighed the money in her hand—it was thick, at least two or three thousand yuan.

“I can’t take this much.” She pushed it back.

“Take it.” Zhou Hu held her hand firmly, his grip slightly painful. “If you’re with me, Zhou Hu, don’t act like this. There will be plenty more money for you to spend later.”

Su Liwan no longer refused. She tucked the money into her pocket, got off the bike, and walked into the neighborhood without looking back.

She did not see Zhou Hu on the motorcycle watching her back, his eyes holding not a trace of love, only the satisfaction and calculation of a prey falling into his trap.

When she got home, her father had not yet finished work, and her mother was busy in the kitchen. She hid the new clothes deep in her closet, pressed the money under the bottom of her drawer, then sat on her bed, tightly hugging the math workbook Qin Ruhai had given her.

She opened the first page again. The small line was still clear: “Mathematics is beautiful, but don’t let it be your everything.”

What exactly did that mean?

Was he telling her not to only focus on studying, or hinting that she should not pour all her heart into one thing?

Su Liwan could not figure it out, so she repeated it over and over until she memorized it by heart.

Her phone vibrated twice at the same time. Two messages arrived one after another—

Zhou Hu: “See you tomorrow, baby.”

Qin Ruhai: “Remember to finish your math homework. I’ll check it tomorrow.”

She stared at the two messages. One called her baby affectionately, the other calmly reminded her to do homework. One was scorching fire, the other calm water; one was a bottomless abyss, the other a faint salvation.

She replied to Zhou Hu first: “See you tomorrow.”

Then to Qin Ruhai: “Understood, Professor Qin.”

After sending the messages, she threw her phone aside and lay back on the bed. A thin crack on the ceiling stretched from the lamp base to the corner, like an invisible thread quietly tying together fates destined to entangle.

She closed her eyes, and the white fox appeared in her dream again.

This time, the white fox stood before a door. The door was wide open, revealing endless darkness inside. It looked back at her, golden eyes filled with tears.

Su Liwan jolted awake, her heart pounding violently.

A full moon hung high outside the window, its clear light filling the room. Wind rustled through the treetops, like a heavy sigh from ancient times.

She did not know that the fox’s tears were her own tears to come.

She did not know that the boundless darkness behind the door was the cycle she was about to step into.

She did not know that the slightly trembling hand with which the gentle, restrained man handed her the book was not just a teacher’s concern, but a man’s heartache, suppressed with all his strength.

At that moment, the threads of fate had tightly bound the three of them together.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***