Chapter 13: Teacher Shen Rui

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Teacher Shen Rui poured a cup of tea for Zhai Da.
“Honestly, just by looking at you, I knew the school was overthinking it. But to put everyone at ease, let’s just treat this as a casual chat and take up a bit of your time.”

His words carried none of the patronizing tone one might expect from an adult speaking to a rebellious teenager. And if Zhai Da really were a defiant high schooler, this opening would have done much to dissolve resistance.

He had to admit, this teacher was quite articulate. Zhai Da had half-expected the usual clichés about how students should prioritize their studies.

Zhai Da had always believed respect was reciprocal—those who respected him earned his respect in return. He accepted the hot tea with both hands.
“Thank you, Director Shen.”

Shen Rui chuckled softly. “You have a sense of humor—that’s a good thing.”

The distinctive aroma of brick tea filled the small office.

“I saw from your file that your mother works at the woolen mill. That means we have something in common—my mother worked there too, once.”

Psychological counseling couldn’t start by diving straight into the main topic.

Like a psychologist who wouldn’t begin by bluntly saying, “You’re sick, and I’m here to treat you,” Shen Rui sought common ground first.

Zhai Da quietly calculated, “She must have worked there around the same time as my grandfather.”

“Your grandfather was at the woolen mill too? Maybe they really knew each other. What’s his name?”

“Yu Lihua,” Zhai Da replied.

His grandfather had actually passed away earlier than Zhai Da’s father, succumbing to multiple primary cancers.

But ever since Zhai Da could remember, he had heard many stories about his grandfather from Yu Xiaoli, his mother. The house they lived in, the savings his mother used to raise him—it all seemed to have come from his grandfather.

So in Zhai Da’s heart, his grandfather was a tangible yet elusive figure. His shadow was long, stretching far enough to guide his grandson into adulthood.

Upon hearing the name, Shen Rui paused for a moment in thought. “I think my mother mentioned him once.”

But he couldn’t quite recall the details.

A few simple words bridged the distance between them, and the conversation flowed naturally thereafter.

They talked for a full hour.

Zhai Da went from indifferent at first to wary of Shen Rui’s sharp mind, cautious not to reveal any weaknesses, and finally found himself genuinely enjoying the dialogue.

This was a knowledgeable, eloquent, and gentle teacher.

It was hard to imagine that in his past life, this man had been accepted into a top university but ended up teaching political thought in a small county town, becoming a counterexample to some students who scoffed, “Good grades don’t mean anything.”

Students who used that excuse to justify their trips to internet cafes.

But Zhai Da understood well that success sometimes had little to do with “ability”—often it was just luck.

Teacher Shen Rui was a remarkable man.

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And Shen Rui clearly sensed that this student’s mind was more mature than he had expected.

Even accounting for Zhai Da’s deliberate attempts to appear younger.

Shen Rui glanced at his watch. “Let’s wrap it up for today. Evening study is almost over. I enjoyed talking with you.”

“Thank you, Teacher Shen. You actually taught our class in the first year. I was impressed back then. It’s a pity that after that, the science classes never had political thought lessons again.”

Shen Rui smiled, recalling the memory. “I remember I was just a substitute then and didn’t even look at the syllabus. I spent class time chatting with you all about all sorts of topics—it was a bit unprofessional, honestly.”

He admitted frankly that he had been slacking off.

“But in truth, we liked those classes. We got to explore things beyond the textbook. When Teacher Zhang came back, some students even whispered in the classroom, ‘It’s not as good without Teacher Shen.’ Teacher Zhang turned green with envy.”

Shen Rui shook his head with a smile. “I also remember assigning you some pretty ridiculous homework...”

Zhai Da thought for a moment, then recalled.

“I remember... you asked us to think about a question...”

“Why do our mothers, working in textile factories, knit sweaters for foreign mothers, and how can foreign mothers knit sweaters for us?”

As he repeated it, Zhai Da frowned slightly.

It was just a metaphor, but since his own mother really worked in a garment factory, the memory stuck with him deeply.

Shen Rui asked, “So, did you all figure it out later?”

Zhai Da shook his head slowly after a long pause.

Not just high school Zhai Da, but even his reborn self had never truly understood it.

Of course, in the long journey of adulthood, even a vividly remembered high school lesson rarely gets revisited and thoroughly pondered.

Shen Rui chose to move past the topic. “That’s alright. You have plenty of time to think about it.”

“According to the school’s request, just come by for a chat next Saturday. And if you have any questions, you’re always welcome.”

Zhai Da stood, shook hands with him, then left the office.

Left alone, Shen Rui returned to his desk, pondered briefly, then pulled out a sheet of paper and wrote a few lines.

“The student exhibits mental maturity beyond peers, with strong logical abilities. Probability of extreme behavior is low.”

“Attitude toward early romantic relationships is indifferent; neither eager to discuss nor evasive, though Hawthorne effect cannot be ruled out.”

“Single-parent family has little negative impact; family atmosphere is positive; personality... quite humorous.”

After thinking a bit more, Shen Rui added:

“Behavior patterns show considerable deviation from age norms... likely due to upbringing...”

“Recommendation: Emotional stability, no need for intervention at present... continue observation.”

He didn’t pay much attention to it afterward. These notes were just his personal habit as a psychology enthusiast, not something he really needed to report to the school.

The head counselor might not even understand them.

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“He hides his mature mind—afraid of not fitting in, perhaps...”

“His manner of speech is excellent; maybe influenced by his grandfather?”

During their subsequent conversations, Shen Rui vaguely recalled who “Yu Lihua” was...

He placed the paper in a separate drawer. This was part of his extra duties at school: each student with psychological risks would be assigned to him for guidance.

The drawer contained many similar psychological profiles, but not many in total.

In this era, the threshold for diagnosing psychological issues was very high; schools rarely took it seriously.

If Zhai Da hadn’t fainted during the second mock exam, he might not have qualified for this kind of psychological counseling.

Shen Rui glanced at the last sheet in the drawer, recalling the case of a certain girl.

“What a pity... I wonder how she’s doing now...”

The paper’s header read:

“Lu Wei”

——————

On his way back to class, Zhai Da passed by the experimental class’s door, which stood open. He deliberately stayed close and quickly glanced sideways, trying to catch sight of the “special equipment” he had glimpsed before.

Unfortunately, there was no clue.

The system’s recognition criteria were rigid: special items had to be “close range” and “directly seen” to be identified.

“Close range” meant within a distance where Zhai Da could clearly discern the object, so larger items could trigger a reaction from afar—like the old elm tree.

“Directly seen” meant nothing could obscure the view; even if very close, items hidden in someone’s pocket wouldn’t register.

Evening study was nearing its end. The English teacher had occupied the first half, and by the second half, everyone had become somewhat lax.

After all, Woolen Mill High wasn’t a truly prestigious school. Compared to the other two high schools, it was like a giant among dwarfs, but students’ self-motivation was weak.

Most of the time, they were like herded sheep, needing the whip to get moving.

Zhai Da remembered that his cohort had only a 30% rate of university admission, with just 7% entering first-tier universities; most of those came from the two top classes, Eleven and Twelve.

In Class Eight of the senior year, there were only eight or nine students who made it to university, including Lin Shuyao...

Hmm? Why was that girl staring at him again?

Zhai Da glared back sharply. Lin Shuyao seemed startled and quickly turned her head away.