You will inevitably find yourself agonizing over the title.

Yet my heart felt uncertain—could I really be together with Liu Xiaomei? I kept thinking and thinking. At best, our relationship was ambiguous… Maybe I should try harder, send more messages, make more calls?

Liu Xiaomei smiled and asked, “Do you own a suit?”

“I do.”

“When did you buy it?” she asked again.

“Ten years ago?” Zhang Pa tried to recall.

“Let’s go shopping tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new suit,” Liu Xiaomei said. “Pick me up at nine in the morning.”

“I have to report to school tomorrow morning,” Zhang Pa replied.

“Ah, I forgot,” Liu Xiaomei said. “Then wait for my call.”

“Please don’t buy me any clothes,” Zhang Pa hurried to say.

Liu Xiaomei asked why.

“Just don’t buy it, alright?” Zhang Pa pleaded.

Liu Xiaomei pondered for a moment. “Fine, then I’ll head back. Remember to practice your singing.”

Zhang Pa promised he would. Liu Xiaomei waved goodbye and turned upstairs.

Zhang Pa went back to fetch his bicycle and hurried home. Time was running short, but no matter what, updating his work was always the first priority.

The next day, he made a point to wash his hair, put on fresh clothes, and went to find Yun Zheng for school.

When the door opened and Yun Zheng saw Zhang Pa, he was taken aback. “You’re not going to school again, are you?”

“Yes, from today you’re changing classes. I’m now the head teacher of Senior Year Class 18, and you’re the class monitor. Stick with me, there’s a future in it.”

Yun Zheng’s face turned pale green, and he stood there speechless for a while.

Yun Yun came over from the back. “Come in, come in, why are you standing at the door?”

Zhang Pa said, “Let me formally introduce myself. I’m the homeroom teacher of Senior Year Class 18 at the 119th Middle School, and your son, Yun Zheng, is my student. Hello, parent.”

Yun Yun laughed. “So you really became a teacher?”

“Absolutely,” Zhang Pa replied. “I’m teaching with a sense of historical mission, intent on inspiring even the most stubborn of hearts.”

He was clearly exaggerating. Yun Zheng, a bit dazed, turned to grab his phone from his bed and head out.

The room was tiny, just a large room and a kitchen. The big room held two single beds—home for the mother and son, relying on each other.

A while later, Yun Zheng returned. Zhang Pa asked, “What did Lao Pi and the others say?”

Yun Zheng replied, “We’ve accepted it.”

Yun Yun was annoyed. “What are you saying? Watch your mouth.”

Zhang Pa told her not to worry, then turned to Yun Zheng, “It’s good you’ve accepted it.”

Yun Zheng’s eyes were dull, as if he’d lost all hope. He silently ate a few bites, saying, “I’m done eating, off to school.”

“We’ll go together,” Zhang Pa said goodbye to Yun Yun and left with Yun Zheng.

“I want to transfer to another school,” Yun Zheng said.

“With your grades, you’re lucky any school will take you,” Zhang Pa replied. “Is our school still dead last in the city?”

“Yeah, it’s been that way for years. Always last,” Yun Zheng answered.

“How can a school that’s dead last have so many students? That doesn’t make sense,” Zhang Pa said, pretending to be knowledgeable.

Just like the day before, Yun Zheng labored to pedal him to school by bike.

It was Zhang Pa’s first day on the job, and the school leadership took it very seriously—so seriously that Principal Qin once again personally received him.

At the east end of the first floor was a large classroom with two ping-pong tables—likely a teachers’ recreation room—now requisitioned as the classroom for Class 18. One wall held a very old wooden blackboard.

Principal Qin opened the door. “From now on, this is your battlefield.”

Zhang Pa looked around. “There’s nothing here?”

Principal Qin handed him a bag. “My computer. Use it as you wish.”

“Thanks.” Zhang Pa took the laptop and asked, “What’s the Wi-Fi password?”

“The computer connects automatically,” the principal said. “Password’s in the computer bag pocket.”

“Alright then,” Zhang Pa said. “Go ahead and get busy.”

Principal Qin was momentarily stunned. “Get busy? You don’t even have any students yet.”

“They’ll come,” Zhang Pa replied, truly unhurried.

Principal Qin thought for a moment. “There are no desks, and you don’t even have a table.”

“I trust in the wise leadership of the school. Everything that should be here will be,” Zhang Pa said.

The principal was speechless and turned to leave.

Zhang Pa wandered around the room, dragged the ping-pong tables to the wall, went next door to borrow a chair, took out his laptop, plugged it in, inserted a flash drive, and got to work.

Just as he was typing away, the classroom door was suddenly kicked open and in walked a tall student, at least six feet.

The student carried a desk inside, set it down, and asked, “Is this Class 18?”

“Out. Knock and come in again,” Zhang Pa said.

“Damn,” the tall boy looked at him with disdain.

Zhang Pa acted as if he were invisible and focused on his work.

Five minutes later, Yun Zheng came in carrying his own desk. “Bro, where do I sit?”

Zhang Pa stopped typing, turned, and said, “Knock and come in again.”

Yun Zheng glanced at Zhang Pa, then at the tall boy, shook his head, went out, knocked, and called, “May I come in?”

“Enter,” Zhang Pa replied coolly.

Yun Zheng brought in his desk. “Reporting, teacher, where do I sit?”

“Go to the student office and fetch some brooms and mops, also a basin and a bucket,” Zhang Pa issued his first order as a teacher.

“Yes, sir,” Yun Zheng replied and left.

The tall boy didn’t take Zhang Pa seriously, but having seen Yun Zheng before, he felt something was off—this guy, who was even more of a mess than him, was actually willing to follow the teacher’s instructions.

Nevertheless, pride kept him from knocking and coming in again. Nor did he go further into the room; he just took his chair off the desk and sat in the doorway.

Zhang Pa shook his head, stood up, and walked over. The tall boy grew a bit nervous, uncertain what the teacher would say. To his surprise, Zhang Pa said nothing at all—he simply raised his foot and kicked. With one kick, the six-foot boy went sideways out the open door. Zhang Pa shoved his desk and chair out after him, then slammed the door.

The boy was furious, jumped up, and stormed back in. But as soon as he opened the door, he saw Zhang Pa standing right there. Before he could react, Zhang Pa kicked him out again, right in the chest.

Refusing to admit defeat, the boy got up and charged in again, ready this time to fight back. Unexpectedly, Zhang Pa didn’t kick him again. Instead, once he was inside, Zhang Pa circled around and closed the door behind him…

Kicking him out twice in front of spectators wasn’t ideal—some things are best handled in private. Then the tall boy’s luck ran out: though his face was unscathed, pain shot through every inch of his body after Zhang Pa gave him a thorough beating and dumped him by the wall.

At last, with his wits restored, the tall boy sat up against the wall and said, “Teacher, you hit me. I’m going to report you.”

“Do you have proof?” Zhang Pa asked.

“My whole body’s bruised.”

“Your whole body?” Zhang Pa smiled. “Hurry, go get examined. Go on.”

At this moment, a teacher from the next class walked in, saw the unfamiliar Zhang Pa and the student sitting on the floor, and asked, “You two fighting? What class are you from?”

Most of the first floor was for first-year classes, so this teacher didn’t know about the special existence of Class 18 yet.

Zhang Pa smiled and replied, “Hello, I’m the new teacher. Please take care of me from now on.”

“You’re a teacher?” The woman, about thirty, looked displeased at Zhang Pa’s long hair. “First day on the job?”

“Yes, sorry for disturbing you. I’ll be more careful next time.”

Just as he finished, another student came in carrying a desk, reporting for class. The female teacher eyed him suspiciously, then turned and left.

Zhang Pa stepped aside to let the student bring in the desk.

Over the next half hour, more students trickled in, each carrying their desks. Those who knew each other exchanged greetings and idle chatter. Zhang Pa acted as if he didn’t hear, nor did he do any work—he simply leaned back with his hands behind his head, feet propped on the ping-pong table, his chair balanced on two legs, swaying leisurely.

After a while, the principal came in, saw the chaos, and clapped his hands for attention. “From today, you are all students of Class 18, and this is your homeroom teacher, Mr. Zhang Pa.”

Zhang Pa rose slowly and smiled at everyone.

The students didn’t react at all; they looked at him as if he were a stranger on the street.

The principal said to Zhang Pa, “Step outside for a moment.”

The two of them went out to the corridor, where the principal handed over a list: fifty students in all, twenty-four of whom hadn’t come to school.

“That’s some truancy rate,” Zhang Pa chuckled.

“Here’s the list. See if you can get them to come to class—their phone numbers and addresses are listed below.”

“Will you reimburse me for phone bills?” Zhang Pa asked.

“As long as you can keep them at school and out of trouble, anything goes,” the principal said, then changed to a solemn tone, “You should know, the school has high hopes for you. We hope you succeed.”

“How could it be that easy? If just any teacher could succeed, would your school still be last in the city?”

“It’s our school!” the principal corrected him.

“Yes, our school,” Zhang Pa said. “Go ahead, I’ll take care of them.”

“Be careful not to go too far,” the principal warned, a little worried.

Zhang Pa waved him off, went back into the classroom, slammed the door, and announced loudly from the doorway, “Let me introduce myself. My name is Zhang Pa—like ‘afraid’—I’m afraid of everything. So you can’t bully me. If you bully me, I might lose control, and who knows what I’ll do. For everyone’s health, and for the peace and love of this world, please, please, don’t bully me.”

What kind of opening was that? The twenty-six students in the classroom were relatively quiet—actually, they were indifferent, watching Zhang Pa’s antics with cold detachment.

He continued, “Now that you’ve entered this door, you have only one choice: listen to me seriously and behave. There are no other options.”

Still, no one responded.

With a smile, Zhang Pa said, “First rule: tomorrow, no cell phones at school.”

“Why? Even the principal doesn’t care,” a student finally spoke up.

Ignoring him, Zhang Pa pressed on, “Second rule: no skipping class. This one is important.”

Some students scoffed in disdain.

Zhang Pa pretended not to hear. “Now, get to work. Divide up chores, clean the place, and toss the ping-pong tables out onto the field. Also, bring me back a desk for the office.”

No one replied, except Yun Zheng, who stood awkwardly among the brooms and mops.

Zhang Pa pretended not to notice, packed up his laptop, dragged his chair outside, and sat at the doorway in a daze.

Is this what class is supposed to be? The students were confused; even the school leaders peering down the hall were baffled.

Zhang Pa didn’t care. Hugging his laptop, he closed his eyes for a nap, looking for all the world as if he were already asleep.