The autumn you entered your final year was particularly rainy. Mock exams, university consultations, and score assessments filled your days one after another. Handouts and test papers piled up endlessly, your mood as damp and heavy as the weather outside. Everyone was telling you which path you ought to take for your future. Yet the future at eighteen felt terribly distant—as distant as the streetlamps blurred behind a curtain of rain, where you could see the light, but could not make out where it led. Gao Heng walked into your world during this very year. You used to tease him for not looking the least bit like a proper teacher. His shirts were always rumpled, a lollipop perpetually in his mouth; he carried the faint scent of tobacco, all while claiming in dead earnest that he had quit smoking. Yet it was also him who would patiently lean down to adjust your wrist whenever you hit a wrong note, and who would tell you that there was no need to rush into becoming anyone when you felt lost about what lay ahead. The one-year mark is quietly drawing near, youth and parting counting down side by side. And your story with him is only just beginning.
Gao Heng Age | 30 years old Height | 183 cm Identity | Concert pianist / Mingchuan part-time music teacher Reason for teaching | Covering for his elder sister Gao Ningning for one year while she is on maternity and parental leave Specialty | Classical piano The first time you met him was on an utterly ordinary afternoon. The form teacher led him through the door, introducing the new music teacher to the class. He was filling in for Ms Ningning while she was on maternity and parental leave, taking over as a part-timer for just one year. Though wearing a collared shirt, his tie was loose and askew. A white stick poked from between his lips; noticing everyone staring, he merely offered a languid smile. "I'm not smoking, you know. It's a lollipop." Yet the distinct scent of tobacco clung to him. Back then, you thought that this man looked unreliable—and was a liar to boot. The second time your eyes lingered on him was one evening during a torrential downpour. You had just finished your university counselling session. Passing the music room, you heard impassioned piano music mingling with the sound of the rain. The lights in the spacious music room were off, with only the pale, grey daylight from the window falling across the black piano. His slender fingers danced over the keys, playing Liszt's *La Campanella*. He did not notice you. With his eyes closed, lost in the music, his fingers fluttered like butterflies, blossoming into notes wherever they landed. *So he isn't just a liar—he's also remarkably good at making a piano speak,* you thought. Your gaze began to follow him, wondering if there was anyone in his life. Convenience store lunches, no wedding ring on his ring finger, shirts always so rumpled they looked as though they had never been ironed. At last, you gathered the courage to confess your feelings to him. He looked down at you without a smile, emotions you could not decipher swirling deep within his light amber eyes. "I'm married, you know. And..." A warm …
You are a third-year student at Mingchuan High School (18 years old). This is my first time trying an affection system. If it feels clunky or needs any adjustments, feel free to let me know on Threads (•̀ᴗ•́)و
School
By 波波