Come home with me

Teacher…

The title carried no allure,
only a mix of admiration and hope.
Back then, she truly believed
her mother had softened,
had compromised.

But…

Her eyes flickered for a moment,
thoughts drifting further away.

“She sent you to pick me up?”
The girl outside the police station asked eagerly.

Her eyes still held traces of exhaustion,
her oversized T-shirt wrinkled,
a tear at the sleeve—
perhaps from a fight,
or snagged by accident—
making her look disheveled.
Yet her expression was bright,
her clear jade-green eyes sparkling like gems,
reflecting the woman opposite.

Liu Tingsong stiffened,
whether from the awkwardness of their first meeting
or something else,
hiding her expression under the brim of her hat,
offering only a vague nod.

On any other day,
Xu Fengluan might have sensed something off.

But back then,
fresh from a brawl and a night in the police station,
her highs and lows left her dazed,
unable to think clearly,
swept up in joy.

Her reasoning was simple:
This was her mother’s olive branch.
Why else would she send not just anyone,
but the company’s hottest cash cow to fetch her?

This was Liu Tingsong,
crowned the Heavenly Queen of music in her twenties.

If her mother let her meet Liu Tingsong,
it meant she approved her entering the entertainment world,
allowed her to pursue music.

Her long-cherished dream finally permitted,
Xu Fengluan felt buoyant,
her steps light as if drunk,
treading on soft cotton.

She walked, asking:
“She really sent you?”

Unable to resist,
she confirmed again,
then burst into a silly grin,
as if chiding herself for such a dumb question.
This was Liu Tingsong!

If not for her mother’s orders,
why would Liu Tingsong bother with a stranger?

“Really sorry to trouble you,”
the girl scratched her head,
bashfully explaining:
“It was an accident, honestly—
I got dragged into it.”

Liu Tingsong nodded again,
unclear if she was listening.

The girl rambled on alone,
unsure how to quell her excitement,
words tumbling out one after another.

“My mom keeps pushing me to take over her business,
but I just don’t like it.”

“She defied her own parents for her dreams, didn’t she?”

“I just want to do what I love,
like she did.”

“I really love making music,”
the girl tilted her head up,
the full moon casting a soft glow on her youthful face,
etched with the same stubborn resolve.

Liu Tingsong paused,
her gaze, complex and shadowed,
lingering on her.

The night breeze blew relentlessly,
failing to dispel the muggy air,
instead leaving a sticky layer of sweat,
unbearably cloying.

The alley’s old streetlamp flickered,
hiss-popping with static,
its dim yellow light stuttering,
unable to pierce the darkness under the red bricks.

Liu Tingsong, lost in thought,
pressed her lips together,
unable to speak.

Xu Fengluan didn’t grasp her hesitation,
finding her as cool and reserved as on screen,
like hazy moonlight—
even standing close,
she felt unreal, fleeting.

But Xu Fengluan reconsidered:
It made sense.
For someone of Liu Tingsong’s stature
to come for her in the middle of a busy schedule
was already unthinkable.

At that thought,
her expression softened,
flashing a bright smile:
“Where are we going?
To see my mom?”

Since her mother had relented,
she should strike while the iron was hot,
switch her major right away.
If not,
she’d rather repeat senior year
than study business—
she had zero interest.

Liu Tingsong, silent for so long,
finally spoke,
but not the answer Xu Fengluan expected.

She said:
“Go back first.”

Her voice was hoarse,
her words strained,
as if swallowing something difficult.

Xu Fengluan froze,
not processing what she meant,
let alone catching the nuance in her tone.

Liu Tingsong repeated:
“Come back with me first.”

Her voice steadied,
showing no trace of oddity.

She added:
“Your mother asked me to stay with you for a while.”

What kind of arrangement was this?

Xu Fengluan was dumbfounded,
unable to fathom her mother’s plan.
She was a college student,
capable of living independently—
no need for a “nanny.”
And why would her mother spare Liu Tingsong?

Frankly,
Xu’s mother was a workaholic.
Given a choice between Xu Fengluan and her career,
she’d pick the latter every time,
which was why Xu Fengluan was raised by her grandparents.

Liu Tingsong was her most valuable artist.
Instead of cashing in on her,
she’d send her to babysit?

Was her mother insane?
Or was Xu Fengluan dreaming?

Xu Fengluan shook her head hard,
wondering if she’d been hit in the fight,
hallucinating now.

But Liu Tingsong offered no explanation,
walking ahead.

Xu Fengluan, still confused,
wondering when this dream would end,
hurried to catch up.

Their shadows stretched on the ground,
from trailing to side-by-side,
eventually merging,
swallowed by the night,
blown away by the breeze.

From that night,
Xu Fengluan moved back to the house her mother arranged,
Liu Tingsong staying as her “tutor,”
asking to be called Teacher.

Around that time,
rumors of Liu Tingsong’s retirement began to spread.
Both she and the company heard,
but neither clarified,
letting the rumors grow.

The memory faded,
returning to reality.

Her unfocused eyes sharpened,
though half-reclined on the soft sofa,
her back was rigid,
hands clenched,
in a tense, guarded state,
like a wounded beast,
bristling with wariness.

Liu Tingsong, opposite,
pressed her lips,
not yet finding words to smooth things over.

Xu Fengluan turned to the camera,
her smile cold,
eyes sharp with indifference,
saying word by word:
“Senior Liu, hello.”

The room’s atmosphere froze,
the earlier warmth gone.
Anyone could see Xu Fengluan’s rejection of Liu Tingsong.

Zhang’s expression faltered,
stepping forward,
yanking the cameraman’s wrist to shift the lens,
forcing a laugh:
“You can tell everyone loves Senior Tingsong—
so nervous they can barely speak!”

“Since we’ve done greetings,
let’s move to the next segment,”
she pushed on stiffly.

Ji Lunan, Kuang Ye, and Chu Cheng
quickly played along,
shifting the topic.

Their swift reaction
meant that while some viewers sensed something off,
they didn’t have time to dwell or comment,
swept along by the pace.

Within minutes,
Liu Tingsong’s live stream trended on X-blog.

The viewer count surged,
people flooding in from all channels,
pushing concurrent viewers to a staggering million.

But Liu Tingsong didn’t care,
her eyes lowered,
lost in thought,
until Zhang called her name repeatedly.

She snapped back,
showing a hint of confusion.

“Tingsong just returned to the country,
still adjusting to the time zone?
Your schedule’s been hectic,”
Zhang offered an excuse,
repeating:
“Now’s the fan Q&A segment.
Everyone wants to know why you came back so suddenly.”

Xu Fengluan, eyes closed in feigned rest,
her eyelids trembled slightly.