I Promise to Walk With You for Half of my Life’s Journey - Chapter 10

The May Day holiday finally arrived.

Cheng Sutong was feeling bored at home, so she invited Song Qingqing over. They lived close enough to visit each other easily. Sutong shared everything regarding her interactions with Teacher An, and Qingqing became incredibly excited for the gossip. Qingqing seemed to be a huge fan of web novels, specifically those involving romantic subtext between women.

“Qingqing, I feel like Teacher An is actually a really good person. She is not nearly as strict as she is in class.”

“Oh? So you two have started sending flirtatious texts now?”

“What flirtatious texts? It was just a normal expression of concern.”

Qingqing, always one to enjoy the drama, had an expression that suggested she was fully shipping them. “Sutong, have you two had any closer private contact? Do not tell me you have fallen for the teacher. I am telling you, that is taboo.”

Before she could finish, Sutong interrupted her. “It is a simple student-teacher relationship. Teacher An just saw that I am physically weak and live alone, so she is looking out for me.”

Qingqing chuckled. “Fine, fine. Regardless, you are my best friend. As long as you do not smuggle drugs or betray the country, I will support you.”

The two of them chatted and played video games until evening. Sutong asked, “Qingqing, I got a zoo flyer from someone handing them out at the school gate. Let us go together tomorrow.”

“Oh, sorry Tongtong, I already have plans tomorrow.”

“How about the day after?”

Qingqing guiltily twiddled her fingers and offered a vague explanation. “Tongtong, I am busy for the next few days. I will go with you next time, okay?”

Sutong felt a bit disappointed, but she could not force it. Suddenly, Qingqing leaned in with a mischievous grin. “Tongtong, you could ask Teacher An to go with you. It is perfect.”

Before Sutong could even process the idea, Qingqing snatched her phone. She found Teacher An on WeChat, took a photo of the colorful zoo flyer, and sent it. The flyer featured a cartoon giraffe with text next to it that read, “See the world with the one you love most!” Along with the photo, she sent a message: “Teacher An, have you ever been to the zoo? My dad promised to take me when I was little, but he was always too busy.” She added a crying cat emoji for effect.

An Chuxin stared at the message for a long time. Just as the girls thought there would be no reply, Sutong’s phone buzzed. The teacher replied, “If you are free tomorrow, we can go to the zoo. Consider it an extracurricular practical session. Write an observation journal and submit it next Monday.”

Cheng Sutong and Qingqing both stared with wide eyes. The excuse was flimsy, but they both accepted it. Qingqing teased, “Haha, little Tongtong, just go and enjoy yourself with Teacher An. It is not like she is going to eat you.” Sutong gave a helpless smile, but deep down, she was truly happy.

The zoo on Saturday was bustling. Children ran around while parents chased after them. An Chuxin and Cheng Sutong walked through the crowd, one following the other. They looked like a pair of sisters with a slight age gap, or perhaps just a formal pair consisting of a teacher and a student.

They saw the elephants, the monkeys, and the pandas. An Chuxin spoke very little, but she would stop to read the information plaques. Occasionally, she would correct Sutong’s misconceptions about the animals, which was her instinct as a teacher.

When they reached the giraffe enclosure, the crowd thinned out. Inside the high fences, several giraffes paced gracefully, their slender necks reaching toward the sky. Their eyelashes were long, and their eyes looked gentle. Cheng Sutong leaned against the railing, looking up at the gentle creatures.

“Teacher An,” she suddenly spoke, “do you know how mother giraffes protect their babies?”

An Chuxin shook her head.

“They stand in a circle with the calf in the middle,” Cheng Sutong said, her eyes still fixed on the giraffes. “All the adults face outward so they can spot predators immediately.” She paused for a moment. “When I was two months old, my mother abandoned me. She said she was going out to work to give me a better life. Later, my dad told me she never came back.”

An Chuxin’s body stiffened. She turned to look at Cheng Sutong’s profile. The girl was still looking up, her expression as calm as if she were talking about someone else.

“So sometimes I wonder,” Cheng Sutong continued, “if my mother were a giraffe, would she have kept me in the middle to protect me?”

The words were spoken softly, but they landed in An Chuxin’s heart like a heavy boulder. She finally understood. She understood the bottomless loneliness in Cheng Sutong’s eyes, her almost obsessive craving for stability, and why she had unconsciously grabbed her sleeve when she fainted. This girl had been abandoned in the wilderness of the world from the very beginning of her life.

She was not looking for a teacher. She was looking for a wall to lean on, someone who could keep her in the middle.

An Chuxin thought of her own mother, a woman who never thought of giving up on her even while being tormented by illness. She possessed something Cheng Sutong never had, yet she also felt the same fear of impending loss. In that moment, all professional boundaries, social norms, and rational thoughts were swept away by a more powerful surge of emotion. It was resonance, it was heartache, and it was a maternal protective instinct.

“Cheng Sutong,” An Chuxin heard her own voice, which sounded a bit hoarse.

Sutong turned her head. Her eyes were a bit red, but she did not cry. An Chuxin raised her hand, wanting to touch her face, but she stopped in mid air. Finally, she just let it rest gently on her shoulder.

“From today on, if you are afraid or if you need anything, you can come to me.”

She did not say she would protect her like a mother, nor did she say everything would be fine. Those promises were too heavy and too hollow. She simply provided an opening, a small entrance into her tightly guarded defenses specifically for this girl. Cheng Sutong looked at her, her eyes widening slowly, and then she nodded.

In the distance, children laughed and animals called out. The world was noisy and vivid. In that quiet corner, two souls shared their first true moment of connection. It was like two distant trees in a vast wilderness finally seeing each other and deciding to stretch their roots quietly toward one another.

As they left the zoo, it was still early. An Chuxin said, “I will drive you home.”

“There is no need, Teacher An. I can go back by myself.”

“Let us go.” An Chuxin was already walking toward the parking lot.

They remained silent in the car. While waiting at a red light, An Chuxin suddenly asked, “The selection for the physics competition is next month. Do you have any thoughts on it?”

Cheng Sutong was startled. “I, can I do it?”

“Your thinking is deeper than that of your peers. You just lack systematic training.” This was the first time she had explicitly acknowledged that Cheng Sutong was different. “Consider it.”

The car stopped at the entrance of the residential complex. Cheng Sutong unbuckled her seatbelt, hesitated for a moment, and whispered, “Teacher An, thank you for today.”

“Mhm,” An Chuxin responded, then added, “write that observation journal seriously.”

“Okay.”

Cheng Sutong got out and closed the door. After walking a few steps, she turned back and saw that An Chuxin’s car was still parked there. She stood and watched the white car for a long time. Then, she raised her hand and gave a small wave. An Chuxin watched the waving figure in the rearview mirror, and the corners of her mouth curved up involuntarily.

When the car finally drove away and Cheng Sutong headed upstairs, she took out her phone and sent a text to that number: “Teacher An, I am home. I was very happy today.”

A few minutes later, a reply came: “Mhm, get some good rest.”

Simple and stiff, it was An Chuxin’s usual style. Outside the window, the May evening breeze blew in with the slight warmth of early summer. The mundane details of life felt exceptionally tender in that moment. Cheng Sutong collapsed onto her bed and closed her eyes. From today on, she was no longer standing in the wilderness alone.

On the other side of the city, An Chuxin parked her car but did not go upstairs immediately. She sat in the driver’s seat looking at the message on her screen. Then, she opened her memo app and created a new document titled: “Cheng Sutong, Extracurricular Tutoring and Psychological Support Records.”

In the first line, she wrote: “May Day holiday, zoo. Observed subject has a deep longing for protection and stable relationships. Originates from the trauma of maternal abandonment during infancy. Need to provide stable and reliable emotional support in subsequent interactions.”

She paused for a long time after writing this. The cursor blinked on the screen, mirroring the unwritten question in her heart. Finally, she closed the memo, leaving the real question unasked: “When I look at her, how much of this intense protective urge is a teacher’s responsibility, and how much is something else?”

She did not know the answer. Perhaps she was simply afraid to know. As the night grew darker, the city lights flickered on like countless silent eyes watching this woman who tried to analyze emotion with logic, even though she had already crossed the line.

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