Wen/Yaqing

Oral: Meng Qi

When I was seventeen, I fell in love with my Chinese teacher. His name is Zheng Xuan, with long fingers and elegant smile. Whenever he passes my desk, he always smiles at me, his eyes are full of other gentleness, leaving many ambiguous words in my composition book, which are harsh and warm, hitting my closed heart impartially.

The first time I received the little note he put in the composition book, my hand pressed my frantic heart. My heart is beating so hard that I even feel my whole body shaking. Hurry up and bury your head in the desk, which will make your feverish face a little cold.

Meng Qi, what happened to you? My deskmate Shen Cheng touched my shoulder with a pen tip. Nothing, just tired and want to lie down. I replied in a low voice, my mind completely occupied by the words on the note.

After school, I came to the deserted grove deep in the campus and met Zheng Xuan. He said, you know what? You are dignified and elegant, just like a woman coming out of an ancient painting. He opened his thin lips, and the calm and magnetic voice passed through my fragile ears like electricity, arousing the numbness that went deep into the bone marrow. I looked down shyly, suddenly raised my head and looked at him expectantly: Teacher, can we really do it?

He gently held me in his arms and said nothing. I fell on his chest and heard his strong rhythmic heartbeat, and my heart was in a trance. At that moment, he was my warm harbor. I lost my father's love since I was a child, and I was so attached to his masculine hug and touch. I close my eyes and enjoy this wonderful feeling. Just as his hand unbuttoned the first button of my school uniform coat, a crisp and breathless whistle woke us up. 1/3 123 Last page