Chapter 40: He Has Someone He Likes

The young master was being all mysterious and didn’t give a straight answer.

He just sent a hurried message:
[I’ve got something to do. See you this afternoon, Teacher Gu.]

And then, nothing more.

—

After lunch, Gu Yao packed a two-day emergency bag and set off for Yufeng.

In the courtyard, a lightweight pickup truck was parked with its trunk full of rural supplies. The driver was loading box after box onto the truck.

She guessed they were probably books and teaching materials donated to the school.

Zhou Xingduan stepped out from inside, dressed in a gray casual outfit, one hand in his pocket. When he saw Teacher Gu, he greeted her with high spirits and casually glanced up toward the second floor.

Aunt Liu noticed and smiled. “Sir is in the study handling work matters. He probably won’t be able to see you off. It’s still early—would you like to come inside and rest a bit?”

Gu Yao shook her head.

It was a rare sunny day. She wanted to soak up a little more sun.

Seeing she wasn’t in high spirits, Aunt Liu quickly had some rattan chairs and a tea table set up in the courtyard, complete with sweets and snacks, arranging everything perfectly—then gave the young master a not-so-subtle wink.

Message received.

Zhou Xingduan gave a small cough, strolled over, and plopped down lazily. He turned his head and invited her, “We’re both idle anyway—how about a little match?”

A match?

Physics problems?

Gu Yao declined. She didn’t feel like using her brain.

But clearly, she had overestimated how dedicated the young master was to learning. It was a rare winter break—how could he possibly “waste it”?

With a magician-like flourish, he produced two decks of cards.

A magic trick?

As he shuffled the cards, he explained the rules—skipping the long-winded version, the gist was: whoever had the most cards left in the end lost.

It sounded kind of boring, and didn’t seem to involve much skill either.

Is this what kids born after 2010 are playing now?

Oh well.

She figured she’d just help him kill some time.

However, taking it too lightly cost her: she lost two rounds in a row.

By the time she snapped out of it and noticed the sneaky traps hidden beneath the cards, Zhou Xingduan was already stretching with a yawn, smugly asking for his winnings.

That cocky expression of his…

Gu Yao kept a straight face and said, “Alright, what do you want me to do?”

She figured it’d be something like “truth or dare,” the kind of childish stuff older girls had already grown out of.

But she had overlooked one important detail.

Young Master Zhou was only fourteen—and in the eyes of little boys, the grown-up version of flirting was beneath them.

So when she heard his “reasonable request,” Gu Yao was completely stunned.

For a long moment, she looked at him in disbelief and asked seriously, “Are you… sure?”

Her tone was light, but cautious.

It was almost absurdly simple.

The little rascal, surprisingly merciful after all, had gone to all this trouble just to get her to go up to the study and borrow a book from the big boss.

As for the title, Zhou Xingduan typed it out and sent it to her on WeChat.

She opened the chat and saw:
《The Water of the Canglang》—a well-known contemporary realist novel.

Other than that, Gu Yao didn’t sense anything unusual for the moment.

—

Meanwhile.

On the second-floor balcony just outside the study, Zhou Zhengliang stood tall by the railing, on the phone.

It was a call from the old family house in Beijing.

A gentle female voice came through the receiver: “These days, I have to go through Xiao Xu just to reach you.”

“I’ve had a lot of meetings lately. My phone’s been on silent,” he replied.

“Xiao Xu didn’t put his phone on silent, did he?”

There was a hint of suspicion in her voice.

With his hectic schedule and long-term postings out of town, it had become normal for mother and son to fall out of touch.

There was no excuse that would hold up.

Zhou Zhengliang tapped the ash off his cigarette and smiled slightly, willingly accepting the scolding.

After asking about his recent life, there was a brief pause.

Then she said, “Siyun came back to China. Did you know?”

Two seconds of silence.

“No,” he answered calmly.

There was a soft sigh from the other end. “I ran into Madame Liang at the theater two weeks ago. She said Siyun hasn’t been in a relationship these years. You two…”

Before she could finish, Zhou Zhengliang cut her off mildly, “Our marriage ended three years ago. There’s nothing between us anymore. She doesn’t need to notify me of her return.”

Silence.

The woman on the other end seemed to want to say something more, but was interrupted by her son’s quiet reminder:

“Comrade Xiao Chen, I already have someone I like.”

As those thin lips parted, his gaze slowly dropped down to the courtyard, resting on the gentle figure of the girl below. A soft light flickered in his eyes.

What a pleasant surprise.

“You’re not bluffing? When are you bringing her home to meet me?”

Zhou Zhengliang replied calmly, “Still working on it.”

She thought of how Ah Duan had come back from Qionghai last time and secretly said, “Second Uncle might be in love.” She hadn’t taken it too seriously then, but just now a little nudge had turned up clues after all.

Her mood instantly brightened.

She issued her son a clear order: “Step it up. I want to meet my future daughter-in-law by New Year’s!”

Zhou Zhengliang let the corners of his lips lift slightly.

What his mother hoped for… wasn’t it his wish as well?
But feelings couldn’t be rushed.

The little girl wasn’t so easy to win over.

—

The call had ended barely half a minute before there was a knock on the study door.

Looking down at the courtyard, the girl had already disappeared.

He stubbed out the cigarette, lingered for a few seconds to let the smoke fade, then walked over and opened the door.

Little Comrade Gu stood straight and proper at the threshold, stating her reason for coming:

To borrow a book.

Zhou Zhengliang didn’t ask which one. He simply stepped aside and motioned for her to enter and find it herself.

Gu Yao stepped halfway in, then backed out again, a little embarrassed. “We’re leaving soon. Could you maybe help me get it?”

This was an important space. As an outsider, she didn’t feel comfortable walking around freely.

What if she accidentally saw something confidential?

Her eyes gave her hesitation away. Whenever she was alone with him, her words and actions always maintained a polite distance.

Zhou Zhengliang even suspected—

If he ever confessed his feelings, would she flee the scene in the dead of night?

It wasn’t impossible.

Suppressing the frustration in his eyes, he walked steadily over to the bookshelf and pulled out The Water of the Canglang from the bottom-left of the second-to-last shelf.

As he handed the book to her, Gu Yao looked at him in surprise. “How did you know I—”

“That little rascal didn’t dare come up himself. Not sure what trick he pulled to get you to do it,” Zhou replied.

So that was it.

Gu Yao muttered, “Lost a bet. This was the price.”

She asked, “We’re heading back from the countryside tomorrow. Want me to have Zhou Xingduan return it then?”

Since she had it already, she might as well reread it during her free time.

Seeing right through her, Zhou Zhengliang said gently, “No rush. What to do with it later, let him decide.”

The thing tucked between page 75 was still untouched.

If he’d gone to such lengths to get it back, then as his second uncle—he would help.

At fourteen, feelings start to blossom.

And honestly, that love letter… was better than the ones his father used to write.

—

Downstairs, the young master waited eagerly in the living room.

When he saw Teacher Gu coming down with the book in hand, he rushed forward and took it from her, asking nervously, “What did Second Uncle say?”

“Nothing.”

She had honored the bet. She wasn’t the type to pry into other people’s business.

Pointing upstairs, she relayed the boss’s instructions:
“Two thousand words wasn’t enough. Add three thousand more. Before you return to Beijing, email it to your dad in a Word doc.”

“No.”

What did that have to do with Old Man Guan being rigid?

Just as Zhou Xingduan was about to protest, Aunt Liu’s voice rang out from the courtyard, urging them to get ready.

It was getting late. Time to depart.

The road ahead was long.

This time, they were joining a charity team organized by a city-based foundation heading to the countryside. Gu Yao had looked it up online—the organization was a non-public, comprehensive philanthropic foundation headquartered in the capital, with a legal representative surnamed Chen, seemingly a woman.

Non-public fundraising foundations typically relied on stable sources of funding—donations from corporations, individuals, or specific groups—and were prohibited from soliciting donations from the general public.

Generally speaking, these kinds of foundations had extremely high requirements for their legal representatives. Setting aside age and health, they must possess not only integrity and leadership but also substantial financial means and a powerful background to support their authority.

In short, this Ms. Chen—whose private information was nowhere to be found online—was clearly no ordinary figure.

Of course, the background information was secondary.

What Gu Yao really cared about was the school they’d be assisting. Something about it was a little different.

And as for what exactly was different—they’d soon find out.

After three hours of bumpy mountain roads, the team finally arrived at their destination.

The principal, accompanied by two logistics staff members, had been waiting outside the iron gate for a while. A pickup truck led the way, followed by several sedans that slowly pulled into an open lot no larger than ten mu.

Near the direction of the farmland, a small area had been set aside for a basketball court. In the center stood a makeshift flag-raising platform, rudimentary at best.

Overall, though the playground was small, the layout was practical, making use of every inch of space.

The principal greeted them warmly and introduced everyone. Then, glancing hesitantly at a rather youthful face among the crowd, he asked, “Is this child here to assist with teaching too?”

He was referring to Young Master Zhou.

Before the team leader could speak, Zhou Xingduan stepped forward and said, “I’ll turn fifteen later this year, almost done with junior high. I’ve won the city-wide Triple A Student Scholarship and a first prize in the physics competition…”

He rattled off his accolades proudly.

The principal nodded in awe. “Education in big cities really is different. The starting lines are simply too far apart.”

And that, precisely, was the purpose of the teaching assistance.

Most children couldn’t choose where they started in life. But everyone deserved a chance to change their destiny. With the government now investing heavily in revitalizing rural education, there was hope that the schooling conditions here would soon improve dramatically.

As evening fell, the group had dinner in the canteen. Afterwards, the principal suggested a tour of the teaching building.

It would also be the place where classes would be held the next day.

Gu Yao paid close attention to the computer room and the English test papers for the third-year middle schoolers.

The class had only twenty-five students, and nearly ninety percent were boys.

Small details reflected the local culture—and highlighted a painful truth about social inequality.

According to the principal, most of the underperforming girls had already been pushed by their parents to transfer to vocational schools in the county.

“Did anyone ask them what they wanted?” Gu Yao asked.

The principal shook his head.

“No use,” he sighed. “Even if they stay, once they finish the graduation exams, their parents will just send them off to work. That’s the reality for many families in this area. Even if the teachers go door to door trying to persuade them, it makes no difference.”

The deeply rooted preference for sons over daughters ran through their bones.

Girls with poor grades were simply abandoned—pulled out of school to join the workforce, and then married off at a “suitable” age. That was the plan for many households.

She had always believed that with progress, outdated beliefs like these should’ve faded by now.

But the world was vast, and some places were still out of reach of sunlight.

The next morning, Gu Yao got up at six to prepare for her lesson.

According to the schedule provided by the school, the content was simple: teach the kids how to use word processing software—creating, editing, formatting documents and so on.

Yes, the kind of thing office workers are all too familiar with.

She couldn’t help but wonder if giving them a taste of such dull work in advance might, when they finally graduated from university someday, temper their dreams of those cold skyscrapers.

But that, of course, was not the goal.

So, from 9 to 11 a.m., Gu Yao decided to do something different.

The school bell rang.

As the students stood and greeted her in unison—“Good morning, teacher!”—the chalkboard already bore today’s lesson title:

“If we were 0 and 1, what would the world be like…”

A fill-in-the-blank filled with imagination and wonder—an entryway into the realm of digital logic.

Two hours flew by.

To the children, every futuristic scene this young teacher painted was vibrant, engaging, and unforgettable.

For the first time, they understood—at the most basic logical level—what “artificial intelligence” truly meant.

Without question, it was the most vivid lesson the principal had ever witnessed.

And when he learned that Gu Yao wasn’t even a certified teacher, he could hardly hide his astonishment.

As for Zhou Xingduan, who sat in on the class, his face was beaming with pride.

Now more convinced than ever—whatever he planned to do in Qionghai in the future, so long as he had Teacher Gu with him, it would be a sure win.

Best of all, he’d fulfilled his grandmother’s instructions perfectly.

In fact, the young master was already calculating what reward to ask for when they returned to the capital.

Sigh.

If only he didn’t have to write that 5,000-word reflection essay, it would’ve been perfect.

At lunch, Gu Yao forgot her phone in the classroom.

Zhou Xingduan eagerly volunteered to retrieve it, saying his legs were long and it’d be no trouble.

In truth, his legs were long—but he also had plans to sneak off to the school store for snacks.

Everyone saw through him but let it go. They figured the city boy, born and raised in luxury, might find the countryside a bit rough. It was understandable. No need to be too hard on him.

But then… he never came back.

Gu Yao was starting to wonder when she glanced toward the canteen entrance—only to spot a familiar figure peeking around furtively.

He waved at her, gesturing wildly.

What was this rascal up to now?

She got up, cleared her tray, said a quick goodbye to the others, and walked outside.

As she approached, Zhou Xingduan awkwardly patted his pockets. The message was clear.

No money?

Gu Yao burst out laughing.

She raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t your second uncle give you any funds before the trip?”

He nodded. Then shook his head.

Awkwardly, he said, “Well, he did… just not enough. Can you lend me a few hundred? I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t have cash. Can I pay by WeChat?” she asked.

Zhou hesitated.

Probably…?

Turns out, no.

The store owner—a woman—explained, “It’s hard enough making a little money. Setting up a QR code means paying service fees. Not worth it.”

They both nodded. Made sense.

In the end, they added her on WeChat and sent the money directly.

When she logged the purchase, the note she left read:
[Two bottles of soda + two bags of chips @ wholesale price + not ripping off city folks]

Walking off with a bottle of Coke in hand, Zhou Xingduan couldn’t help but ask her:

“Tell me—what exactly does a city person look like? Don’t we all have two arms and two legs?”

Gu Yao gave him a long, leisurely glance.

She didn’t say anything.

But the look on his face when he saw the prices for soda and chips—that stunned expression of someone completely out of their depth—said it all.

That innocent, wide-eyed disbelief?
No one could fake that.
It was real.

Young Master Zhou, it seemed, had never encountered prices this low in his life.