Crossing the Line - Chapter 3

Shen Yanchuan’s three years of high school went incredibly smoothly, thanks in no small part to her own self-discipline. While cliques existed even in elite high schools, these students were far cleverer than the crowd back at the orphanage, they weren’t foolish enough to do something as crude as cornering someone in the bathrooms.

The most Shen Yanchuan received over those three years were faint looks of disdain and a natural sense of exclusion.

Of course, she didn’t care about any of that. She hid away the two thousand yuan Gu Tan had given her, living strictly off the meager allowance provided by the orphanage.

Elsewhere, Gu Tan continued her life in much the same tedious fashion. Her mother had developed gout and couldn’t sleep most nights, so Gu Tan had to take leave from the orphanage to care for her at the hospital.

It was only during these times that her mother would show a flicker of warmth. Gu Yaqin held high expectations for her daughter, hoping she would fly a little higher, clearly, she felt that being a preschool teacher was a dead-end career.

“Mom, let me tell you, one of the students from our school got into a top-tier high school. I always knew she had potential,” Gu Tan said, sitting to one side peeling an apple.

Seeing her mother lying in bed with her eyes squinted shut, Gu Tan reflexively stopped talking and finished peeling in silence.

“I suppose people really do have to rely on themselves, don’t they? Qingqing, why couldn’t you have pushed yourself just a little harder back then?”

Qingqing was Gu Tan’s childhood nickname.

“Mom! I tried my best. My talent only goes so far, what else could I do? Here, eat your apple and stop nagging me,” Gu Tan said, handing the whole apple to her mother to try and keep her quiet.

“I just want you to have a better life. The pay at the orphanage is too low, and you can’t even come home every day…” Gu Yaqin grumbled softly before taking a bite. The part she left unsaid was: If you can’t come home every day, I miss you.

Gu Tan smiled. “I like working there.”

Shen Yanchuan had flown away just like that. Even though there hadn’t been much contact between them, Gu Tan still felt a sense of emptiness in her heart. One night, another abandoned child appeared in the small hut by the gate, the umbilical cord was still attached.

It was bloody and smelled of the womb.

When they opened the swaddling clothes, they discovered the index and middle fingers of the baby’s right hand were fused together.

What a cruel world.

Gu Tan’s dreams began to grow increasingly terrifying. Sometimes, she would wake up in a cold sweat at three in the morning, unable to fall back to sleep.

A month after Shen Yanchuan started high school, she sent Gu Tan a letter. It briefly described her life at school, the lines brimming with the spirit of youth. The letter ended with:

Miss you.

I miss you.

Gu Tan wasn’t entirely sure of the high school’s schedule, and she feared that responding impulsively might cause trouble for Shen Yanchuan. Instead, she simply tucked the letter away in her drawer.

Xixi had reached primary school age. Whenever she saw Gu Tan, she would still sweetly call out, “Teacher Tan Hua,” and she was exceptionally active during music lessons.

Perhaps because Gu Tan didn’t look intimidating and spoke with a gentle voice, the children were all very obedient.

In April, the orphanage organized a spring outing. Gu Tan and Xia Hong were responsible for taking over forty children on a bus to a nearby park.

On the bus, Xixi clamored for Gu Tan to hold her, looking as if she were about to burst into tears if refused.

Xia Hong frowned at Gu Tan, signaling her not to spoil the girl.

“I’ll hold you for a little bit, then you have to go back to your seat,” Gu Tan said with a hint of firmness.

Xia Hong chimed in from the side, “Chen Xixi, you’re just taking advantage of Teacher Gu’s soft heart. I certainly wouldn’t be holding you.”

Xixi buried her face in Gu Tan’s arms and giggled, refusing to look at Teacher Xia. She instinctively felt that Xia wasn’t very nice, at least not nearly as nice as her Teacher Tan.

The so-called “spring outing” was nothing more than dozens of children lining up and walking a lap around the park. Everyone wore their school uniforms and held hands. To prevent anyone from wandering off, Gu Tan had to keep her focus on every single child.

People were flying kites in the park, but there was no wind that day. The kites flew low, looking as though they might snag on a branch at any moment.

That evening, as they gathered to head back, Gu Tan did a head count twice and realized someone was missing. It suddenly hit her that the clingy little girl was gone.

It felt as if someone had squeezed her heart.

She hurried to stop Xia Hong. “Chen Xixi is missing. Take the others back first. I’m going to get the security guards at the gate to help me look.”

Xia Hong grew anxious upon hearing this as well. She made a quick phone call, then patted Gu Tan on the shoulder with an air of authority. “Don’t panic. She probably just forgot to come back because she was playing on the slides. Kids are young, they’re forgetful. I’ve already called the orphanage, so just stay calm.”

How could Gu Tan stay calm? The park was about to close, and Chen Xixi was nowhere to be found. She recalled that the last time she saw Xixi was indeed at the playground, where the girl had been climbing up and down.

She rushed back, climbing to the highest point of the slide structure and using a flashlight to search from the top down. The slide tunnels were empty. She searched through the bushes, where the forked branches were covered in sharp thorns.

She wasn’t there either.

After a full hour of searching with no results, the search party gradually grew. Cries of “Xixi” echoed out, one after another, enough to pull a person’s very soul from their body.

By midnight, dew began to condense on the leaves.

At two in the morning, Gu Tan finally found Xixi.

She was huddled next to an electrical distribution box, her tiny body nearly swallowed by the darkness and the cold.

There was no crying, she just stared at Gu Tan with vacant, dull eyes.

Gu Tan picked her up and realized her school trousers were soaking wet. The girl was shivering violently, as if she had suffered a massive shock.

Tucked in her hand, Gu Tan found a note. Xixi had been clutching it so tightly it was crumpled. Only two words were written inside: Bitch.

The handwriting was childish, but the strokes were as sharp as a katana.

Gu Tan didn’t have time to think. She shoved the note into her pocket.

“I found Chen Xixi!” Gu Tan shouted to the others. “Call an ambulance, quickly!”

When the paramedics arrived, the doctor said the child was on the verge of hypothermia, another hour and she might not have made it.

Chen Xixi had congenital heart disease. The orphanage had raised funds from the public for her heart surgery. Back then, her own heart couldn’t circulate blood on its own, so she had to rely on an extracorporeal circulation machine.

She had undergone open-heart surgery at such a young age. Now seven, she knew how to act spoiled with her teachers and how to read people’s expressions.

Such a vibrant, precious life.

It was almost lost. If Gu Tan hadn’t checked that furthest corner… she didn’t dare think about it further.

Two days later, Chen Xixi was moved from the ICU to a general ward. That day, Gu Tan and the other teachers went to visit her, bringing flowers.

“Little Chen Xixi, does your chest still hurt?” A nurse couldn’t help but pinch her cheek.

Xixi shook her head obediently. “It doesn’t hurt. Thank you, Nurse sister.”

Gu Tan stood at the back of the line of teachers. She silently wiped away her tears. Once the other teachers and the director had left, she placed a sunflower by the bed.

Xixi didn’t act spoiled like she usually did, instead, she sat there fidgeting with her fingers.

“Xixi, you need to get well soon,” Gu Tan said, stroking her head.

“Thank you, Teacher.”

Gu Tan kept thinking about the meaning behind those two vicious words, and her mind went back to the bus ride that day when she had indulged Xixi’s request for a hug.

Was it because she held Xixi that it sparked resentment in someone else, leading to this deliberate act of retaliation?

The oldest children on that bus were only eleven. How could they do something so cruel? Whenever Gu Tan thought of Xixi lying pitifully in that hospital bed, her heart bled.

She couldn’t sleep properly for several nights.

If only I hadn’t held Xixi, she wouldn’t have been treated this way.

If only I had watched her more closely, this never would have happened.

If only…

Countless “ifs” floated through her mind.

In the end, she couldn’t find peace with herself.

During the time when Shen Yanchuan was choosing her subjects in her second year of high school, she wrote another letter to Gu Tan. She told her she would be choosing the liberal arts track, though she was still very confused about her future career.

This time, she finally received a reply. The stationery carried the scent of paper and ink, and the handwriting was clearly the teacher’s, written with a fountain pen. There were faint traces of ink bleeding through to the back of the paper.

“To the most excellent Student Shen:

I have always believed you will achieve great things in the future. Of course, I am not saying you must do something grand. Doing an ordinary job well is also a form of greatness. No matter what the future holds, as long as you do your absolute best, I will always be standing behind you.

Signed: Gu Tan.”

As she read the letter, Shen Yanchuan suddenly remembered a time when she was younger. Due to malnutrition, her period didn’t start until she was fifteen. Even though she had read about the phenomenon in books, when it finally arrived, it left her feeling completely helpless.

She didn’t have any pads on her, she didn’t know how to properly wash bloodstains out of her clothes, and her lower abdomen was cramping painfully.

She had rushed into Gu Tan’s dormitory to ask if she could borrow a pad.

Shen Yanchuan remembered seeing three pansies in a vase on Gu Tan’s small desk, their purple petals drooping slightly. The teacher brought her into the room and patiently explained how to attach the pad, telling her she needed to use the long overnight ones and change them regularly.

In the end, she gave her a few packs to get her started.

Now, lying on her small bed in the high school dormitory, Shen Yanchuan felt her emotions return to that day of her first period.

During her afternoon nap, she dreamed she was kissing her teacher.

When she woke up, Shen Yanchuan felt as though she were being enveloped by a tide, a sickeningly sticky sensation welled up in her heart.

The coursework in the second year grew heavy, and boarding students only got two days of leave a month. Almost all her roommates went home, leaving Shen Yanchuan alone with nowhere to go.

Usually, she would spend those two days sitting in the library. She had spent five hundred yuan on a second-hand phone that could store music, she liked wearing headphones and listening to songs while she read.

Actually, after she bought the phone, the thing she wanted to do most was call Teacher Gu. But she had no legitimate excuse to ask for her phone number. As a former student, writing two letters already felt like she was overstepping her bounds.

After all, there were so many children at the orphanage, they couldn’t all graduate and then spend every day on the phone with her.

Shen Yanchuan told herself she had to be considerate of how hard the teacher worked.

The only time she felt an impulsive urge to buy a bus ticket and go find Gu Tan was when a classmate mindlessly remarked: “Why doesn’t Shen Yanchuan’s mom buy her any new clothes?”

It was a simple question. Shen Yanchuan heard it as she walked past.

Something inside her shattered instantly.

Back at the orphanage, being cornered and beaten in the bathroom by Kong Wenyi hadn’t hurt nearly as much as this. A drop of water landed on her arm, and only then did she realize she was crying.

Ultimately, Shen Yanchuan didn’t go back. The orphanage was far away, and a bus ticket would cost a week’s worth of living expenses. She couldn’t afford to pay that price.