Chapter 14: April

If April’s sky refuses to tear its silk, how can May’s lined robe begin?

—Jian Zhen, Splitting Silk in April

The class representative had no idea that the two were exchanging veiled barbs. She continued reassuring Chen Zhiyu that he was brilliant, elegant, and worthy of being ranked first among all “campus heartthrobs.”

Chen Zhiyu smiled without responding. His gaze passed over Su Nan’s face, somewhat cool and carrying the indefinable feeling of someone who had suddenly come to his senses.

Only the class representative ate the barbecue with complete satisfaction.

On the way back to the hotel, she was also the only one capable of talking about “how handsome Professor Chen is” for the entire journey without repeating herself.

Those inside the game and those outside it saw entirely different things.

When they reached the hotel, Chen Zhiyu parked and calmly found a reason to send the class representative away.

“I saw a supermarket across the road. Could you buy some snacks?”

The class representative was delighted. “What would you like?”

“What you manage to eat on the drive back tomorrow depends on what you buy.”

She happily climbed out of the car.

Chen Zhiyu watched her cross the road before withdrawing his gaze. He reached into the storage compartment, found a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. Then he looked into the rearview mirror.

The small mirror was just large enough to reflect Su Nan’s eyes.

“You’re the contact person for fifty or sixty students. Everyone needs to reach you about schedules, travel plans, and contact information. What were you planning to do without a phone? Communicate through a meeting of minds? Telepathy?”

The final remark made Su Nan want to laugh, but she could not manage it.

Chen Zhiyu’s voice was cool. “If you’re so concerned about accepting things, why don’t you simply go barefoot?”

Su Nan lowered her eyes. “I can afford shoes. I can’t afford that phone. Even the first-prize graduate scholarship at Dancheng University is only ten thousand yuan. The phone costs more than six thousand.”

Holding the cigarette between his teeth, Chen Zhiyu fell silent.

Her voice gradually weakened, with a hint of self-abandonment.

“You saw what my family is like last time. My brother-in-law is having an affair, and my sister is fighting with him over the divorce. My niece isn’t even a year old. My sister has been a homemaker for several years and has no income. My father...”

She remembered The moon walks, and I walk too. I’ll see my father to the village entrance. She remembered the old yellow dog and the morning glories, and her heart grew increasingly bitter.

“My parents divorced when I was eight. My father remarried, but less than two years later, he died because of his alcoholism.”

She could not continue.

Licking one’s own wounds in front of another person was an ugly sight.

If living boldly and without restraint were possible, who would not choose a different life?

“Su Nan.”

In the rearview mirror, her eyelashes trembled. She slowly raised her head, her eyes blurred by gathering moisture.

Chen Zhiyu could not identify the feeling inside him. He took a deep drag from his cigarette. Only when the smoke sank into his lungs did the burning sensation offer some relief.

He carefully considered his tone before explaining, “I didn’t mean anything else by it. I passed an electronics store while buying the medicine. For convenience, I simply bought a model I knew.”

He had never lacked food, clothing, or money while growing up. Material constraints had never existed for him.

The worst punishment he had suffered was Chen Zhen withholding his allowance for half a year after he caused trouble. Even then, Cheng Wan, Gu Xinhong, and his large group of friends supported him, allowing him to continue living comfortably.

He could not imagine having to deliberate over sums such as six or ten thousand yuan. That did not prevent him from empathizing with her.

He had acted with good intentions and produced a bad result.

The frustration was almost unbearable.

In a hoarse voice, Su Nan said, “I know. Thank you.”

He understood.

She was grateful, but she still could not accept it.

“Su Nan...”

The misted eyes in the rearview mirror watched him quietly.

Holding the cigarette between his teeth, he broke several sentences apart and chewed them over in his mouth.

“Let me tell you another story.”

Across the road, the class representative emerged from the supermarket carrying two plastic bags.

The words he had prepared vanished instantly, like a tide washing across a beach and leaving no trace behind.

Chen Zhiyu sighed, opened the window, and extinguished his cigarette. Wind entered the car and swept the smoke outside.

“Next time.”

Thanks to the class representative’s publicity, Professor Chen’s reputation for being “approachable and generous” spread widely through the class.

The following morning, after several groups triumphantly reunited in Y City, the students insisted on dragging Chen Zhiyu to the lakeside for a picnic.

With her injured foot, Su Nan did not particularly want to go. The class representative and another woman each took one of her arms, carried her out of the hotel room, and pushed her directly into the back seat of a taxi without allowing her any opportunity to resist.

The April weather was clear and pleasant. The lake formed a pale green pool. Many families had come for an outing, and colorful tablecloths and blankets already covered the pebble-strewn shore.

By the time they arrived, only a corner remained available.

They spread out a plastic groundsheet and poured snacks, fruit, and drinks onto it. Finally, they pulled Chen Zhiyu into the “seat of honor.”

What was called a picnic was actually a gathering centered on gossip.

“Professor Chen, will you teach us again next semester?”

“Do you still have classes in your third year?”

A chorus of disappointed voices answered, “No.”

At first, they asked only proper and restrained questions. Seeing that Chen Zhiyu answered everything, they gradually became bolder.

A female student opened a pair of wide, innocent eyes and asked with perfect innocence, “Professor Chen, do you have a girlfriend?”

A male student beside her voluntarily became the group’s spokesperson.

“Professor Chen travels between Dancheng and Chongcheng, and he’s even wasting his weekend here with all of you. Of course he doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

“I don’t know whether Professor Chen has one, but you certainly don’t!”

“Stop arguing! Let Professor Chen answer.”

Chen Zhiyu’s expression remained calm. “I won’t answer personal questions.”

“Professor Chen!”

“Don’t be like that. Tell us a little more.”

“Anyone who asks again will write a five-thousand-word literature review after returning.”

Everyone groaned and no longer dared act presumptuously.

Su Nan lowered her head and ate the apple the class representative had peeled for her. She did not dare look at Chen Zhiyu’s expression.

She remembered “Yang Luo,” whom she had seen inside the red houses, and the beautiful, gentle face in the photograph.

What relationship had existed between Yang Luo and Chen Zhiyu?

There could be no doubt that his feelings had been profound. Otherwise, how could he remain unable to forget her more than ten years after her death?

After returning home that day, Su Nan had specifically searched for information about Chen Zhiyu.

When she previously asked why he had entered a humanities discipline after studying the sciences, she had assumed that his undergraduate major was journalism or communications.

It was not.

He had studied architecture as an undergraduate. After graduating, he remained at home for one year, then changed fields and went to an American university for a master’s degree in communications. Afterward, he returned to China for his doctorate.

Yang Luo died in a car accident during the same year that Chen Zhiyu graduated from university.

Her death had entirely changed the direction of his life.

Could she hastily draw that conclusion?

People could create and destroy.

The one thing they could not move was a death that had already occurred.

Su Nan kept everything she had learned deeply concealed.

By the time everyone finished dividing the snacks, only a mess remained.

Satisfied, they entrusted their valuables to the injured Su Nan and rushed toward the lake to play in the water and take photographs.

No matter how “approachable” Professor Chen was, he was not approachable enough to participate in such a childish activity.

Left behind, Su Nan and Chen Zhiyu could only stare at each other.

“Did you eat enough?”

She had watched him throughout the picnic. While everyone else noisily crunched potato chips, Chen Zhiyu had condescended to eat only a small bunch of grapes.

“It was all puffed snack food. How could anyone become full?”

Chen Zhiyu searched through the remaining food and found two bananas.

“Why do you children enjoy eating junk food so much?”

“It’s convenient, and it tastes good.”

“It’s unhealthy.”

“Staying up late to read manga is unhealthy too.”

Chen Zhiyu raised an eyebrow. “More nonsense.”

“The contents of Chapter 723, which was released this morning, are...”

“Su Nan.” Chen Zhiyu stared at her with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “For every word you spoil, you’ll write a thousand words.”

“A popular supporting character just died.” Su Nan blinked at him. “Six thousand words, correct?”

Chen Zhiyu swatted at her.

Su Nan covered her head. “Professors aren’t allowed to physically punish students!”

“Even if it costs me my associate professorship, I’m teaching you a lesson today.”

Su Nan laughed so hard that she could not straighten her back. After a long while, she raised her eyes from behind the backpack held protectively in her arms and unexpectedly met Chen Zhiyu’s gaze.

It was serious and contemplative.

She froze.

“Su Nan, do you know why I became a teacher?”

Su Nan shook her head.

“Partly because circumstances naturally led me here.”

Chen Zhiyu turned his gaze toward the laughing students beside the lake.

“Mr. Zhou Fucheng said that he possessed only half a stick of chalk with which to pass down the wisdom of the sages.”

Su Nan instinctively continued:

“Whether beneath the brilliance of open daylight or surrounded by flickering candlelight, an awakened soul always keeps watch. As long as someone remains on watch, dawn remains possible.”

Chen Zhiyu looked at her in mild surprise. “You’ve read The Lamplighter.”

“Mm.”

The Lamplighter told the story of passing on knowledge by keeping a light burning.

When the young Zhao Yuesheng became lost, his teacher, Zhou Fucheng, offered him extensive guidance. In the end, Zhao Yuesheng inherited Mr. Zhou’s spirit and set out upon the path of tending the lamp through the night.

The April wind passed through the treetops and swept toward the lake.

Chen Zhiyu looked at Su Nan, his gaze burning intensely.

Even if he was like a trapped animal, and every step he took spun another strand of web around him, he still selfishly wished:

“I’m officially attached to the dean as a supervisor, and I have one place for a doctoral student whom I can co-supervise.”

“Su Nan, come to Chongcheng University for your doctorate.”

Let me place you somewhere I can always see you.

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Author’s Note

I didn’t consider the earlier timeline thoroughly enough, and it was somewhat rushed. The ages could just barely be made to work, but to make everything more plausible, I have slightly revised Yang Luo’s age and the timing of Professor Chen’s education in Chapter 9 and this chapter.

To summarize:

Professor Chen entered university at sixteen. He graduated with his bachelor’s degree at twenty and then took a gap year. At twenty-one, he changed fields and began studying communications. He completed his master’s degree in communications at twenty-four.

Yang Luo was three years older than Professor Chen. She began her undergraduate studies at eighteen and died during the first year of her master’s program at twenty-three.