The work-study job was quite easy. Qiu Yun was paired with a male classmate named Zhang Xu. As the saying goes, "When men and women work together, the labor is never a chore." Qiu Yun certainly didn't feel tired, mostly because her male counterpart handled almost all the dirty and heavy lifting. She simply wiped down tables, emptied the trash, made herself a familiar face in the faculty offices, and managed to sneak in a lot of reading.
She also began seeing Liang He much more frequently. Although he was the counselor for the freshman class, he was essentially still a first-year graduate student. She had always assumed that graduate school was a breeze—just helping a supervisor with some tasks and going out for sketches, a life of leisure and pleasure. In reality, Liang He was far busier than she had imagined. Graduate students had a heavy course load: foundational courses, theory, cultural studies, and public electives—none were missing, and all possessed a certain level of difficulty and depth. Furthermore, his role as a counselor added a significant weight of responsibility to his shoulders.
Perhaps influenced by the general atmosphere of the era, people's hearts during this time were much more grounded and simple. Supervisors focused on mentoring students and pursuing scholarship, while students dedicated themselves to learning and further studies. One rarely heard of teachers taking side jobs for extra cash, and few students opened their own training classes or workshops. Everyone’s mind was quiet, and life felt comfortable and settled.
One day, while Qiu Yun was wiping tables in the Dean’s office, she heard a commotion in the hallway, as if some joyful news was spreading. People were congratulating Liang He, as well as his supervisor, Chen Jingtao. Qiu Yun poked her head out; it seemed one of Liang He’s works had won an award. Lin Chunxia, the deputy head of the Oil Painting Department, walked into the faculty office beaming, holding a red document. "Teacher Liang, congratulations, congratulations..."
The faculty office was diagonally across from the Dean’s office. The sounds of laughter and chatter drifted out, but Qiu Yun couldn't hear the details clearly. Unable to suppress her curiosity, she leaned against the wall and peeked into the doorway of the shared office.
"Not bad, not bad at all," Chen Jingtao said, patting Liang He on the shoulder with a smile. "When I gave you this topic and you handed in the assignment, I thought it was excellent. Winning this award is well-deserved. But remember to guard against arrogance and impetuosity; don't let it go to your head."
Liang He gave a somewhat bashful smile. "I think I just got lucky, a stroke of serendipity. I also had a lot of guidance from you, Professor."
The other teachers crowded around Chen Jingtao, admiring a page in the magazine he held, offering endless praise.
Someone asked, "Every major competition has a touring exhibition. Which country is it in this time?"
"It’s in Florence this time."
"Will you be going, Teacher Liang?"
Liang He glanced at Chen Jingtao. "I’ll have to apply for permission from the department."
"They have to agree!" someone else declared immediately. "This is an honor for the entire school. They’d be worried you *wouldn't* go."
Chen Jingtao brushed back his hair and nodded with a smile.
Another person asked, "How much is the prize money this time?"
Liang He just smiled again, looking a bit embarrassed to say.
The others egged him on. "Go on, tell us. Don't worry about shocking us."
Liang He thought for a moment and reluctantly held up two fingers.
"Two yuan?"
"Get out of here—how could it be that little?" The crowd erupted in laughter.
"Twenty?"
Liang He shook his head.
"Two hundred?"
Liang He considered it and nodded.
"That much!" Before the others could react, Qiu Yun couldn't help but cry out. By 2018 standards, that would be tens of thousands!
Everyone turned toward the sound and laughed when they saw a student eavesdropping at the door. Feeling a bit sheepish, Qiu Yun rubbed her head and simply walked into the office. "I heard outside that Teacher Liang won an award."
"It’s the Gold Medal from the XXX!" Lin Chunxia said quickly.
Qiu Yun didn't catch the name clearly, but she saw an award certificate on the desk: *XXXXX Painting Award*, embossed in gold English lettering.
"Wow..." Qiu Yun screamed again, unable to contain herself. She knew this award; it was a top-tier prize in the world of fine arts. Only a handful of people in all of China had ever won it. She hadn't expected Liang He to win the Gold Medal, especially while he was still so young! In a flash of realization, she suddenly remembered Liang He’s biography. Vaguely, she recalled that he had won a massive international award in his youth—one whose importance was no less than an Oscar in film or a Pulitzer in journalism. Wu Liu had often spoken of it with extreme adoration. So this was the award, and this was the moment!
A strange sense of witnessing history washed over her. Qiu Yun suddenly felt incredibly excited and happy—happier than if she had won the award herself, happier than if she had won five million in the lottery or bought ten houses! She involuntarily moved toward Chen Jingtao, wanting to see the painting, wanting to see what a world-class, award-winning piece actually looked like. The magazine in Chen Jingtao’s hand was being passed around among the other teachers. Qiu Yun squeezed through the crowd, catching only a glimpse of a deep black corner of the painting. Just as the magazine was about to reach her hands, someone intercepted it and snapped it shut.
Qiu Yun was bewildered. "?"
Liang He held the magazine, a flicker of unease in his eyes, but he spoke politely. "I have to go to class now. Let's stop looking for now."
The sudden shift was jarring. Qiu Yun blinked. "It won't take but a moment. Let me learn something from it too."
Liang He checked his watch. "Your work-study time is almost over. Go back and finish what you need to do. Don't be lazy."
"Then lend it to me. I'll put it on your desk when I'm done."
But Liang He seemed to be intentionally keeping it from her, tucking the magazine directly into his bag.
"Seriously, Teacher Liang? You're being..."
Before she could finish, Liang He walked away.
Qiu Yun stared at his retreating back, finding it utterly bizarre. *So prideful and awkward—is that really necessary?*
Resentfully, she took her rag and returned to the Dean’s office.
Chen Jingtao watched the two of them leave one after the other, a meaningful smile playing on his lips.
***
News of Liang He’s award quickly spread throughout the academy. The school even held a special commendation during the staff meeting, encouraging everyone to learn from him. That evening, Liang He actually treated a group of teachers from the department to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the city. Wang Chen described the event vividly back at the dorm. Qiu Yun listened in silence, not saying a word, until finally letting out a solitary "Hmph."
Qiu Yun clutched her books and headed toward the library. As she approached, she saw a familiar figure ahead.
Normally, Qiu Yun would have hurried up to greet him. But right now, she didn't want to. She maintained her pace, following behind him. To her surprise, the fellow also turned into the library. Qiu Yun paused for a moment, then had no choice but to follow him inside.
It was peak time for self-study. As if scripted in a novel, Qiu Yun searched around and finally found the only empty seat right next to that figure—someone had just stood up and left.
He happened to look up and see her.
She had no choice but to walk over with her books.
She set them down, took her seat, and flipped open a book. He was on her right, so she propped her head up with her right hand and turned her face to the left to read.
Throughout the entire process, the only time she couldn't avoid eye contact was while sitting down, during which she forced a brief, awkward smile.
Qiu Yun had brought a book on foreign art history; there was a quiz next week. She was currently reading about the Renaissance, learning that its source was Florence, where Michelangelo, Raphael, Da Vinci, and countless other masters had left their precious marks... Wait, Florence... wasn't a certain someone going to Florence to accept an award? Qiu Yun’s thoughts began to drift. Since she sat down, the two of them hadn't exchanged a word. she didn't even know what book he was reading to her right. Was he looking at her? Her posture felt a bit stiff, and her back was starting to ache. If she moved, would it make her look insecure? She hadn't washed her hair yesterday—was it dirty? Did it smell?
As she absentmindedly tucked her hair back, a slip of paper quietly slid into her field of vision.
*Da Vinci has been holding that brush for twenty minutes now. I think he can put it down.*
Confused, Qiu Yun turned her head. Liang He gestured toward her book. Qiu Yun looked down; the last line on the page read: "Initially, Da Vinci painted over a thousand eggs... holding his pencil for a long time..." To see the rest, she had to turn the page.
Embarrassed and annoyed, Qiu Yun looked up at Liang He. He looked like a "villain in success," smiling with a hint of mischief.
Qiu Yun grabbed the paper and wrote: *Why are you watching me?*
Liang He wrote back: *Who said I was watching you?*
Qiu Yun wrote: *If you weren't watching me, how did you know I was looking at Da Vinci?*
Liang He: *Daydreaming during study and then complaining about being supervised.*
Qiu Yun replied directly with: *Childish!* She pressed the pen down hard on the exclamation mark.
Liang He, however, seemed to be in high spirits. He tore off a new piece of paper and handed it over: *Da Vinci is a key point. Study him well.*
Qiu Yun looked at the note, then at Liang He. Her brain sparked with an idea, and she wrote: *Did you know Da Vinci was a time traveler?*
*Time traveler?*
Qiu Yun wrote rapidly: *Someone who goes from the modern era to the ancient past. Anatomy, perpetual motion machines, airplanes—which of those do you think should have appeared in his era?*
Liang He pondered for a moment, frowning. *Every era has its pioneers and trailblazers. This is an inevitable part of historical progress, not something to be dismissed as a wild guess.*
Qiu Yun took a deep breath, almost blurting out, "I am one!" But seeing Liang He’s serious, earnest expression, she figured if she told him the truth, he’d probably jump out of his skin in the quiet library. She shook her head slightly, a trace of a sigh in her eyes.
She continued writing: *Did you know Da Vinci was gay?*
When Liang He saw this, his expression indeed shifted slightly. Qiu Yun suppressed a laugh as she watched him write even more seriously: *Don't talk nonsense.*
Qiu Yun looked at him dismissively, her every feature screaming the words "Old Fogey." She wasn't entirely sure if Da Vinci was actually gay, but she was certain that people in this era were still very sensitive about the topic.
She asked intentionally: *Have you heard of homosexuality?*
Liang He turned his face to look at her.
Before he could put pen to paper, Qiu Yun followed up with another question: *Or do you discriminate against them?*
Liang He continued to stare at her. Qiu Yun raised her eyebrows at him provocatively.
He looked down and wrote: *No.*
Qiu Yun found his expression strangely amusing—a bit awkward, bashful, and even cute. She suddenly thought of things that would happen many years later and felt a sudden urge for some dark humor: *Have you thought about your future wife?*
The topic shifted so abruptly that Liang He stared at the words for a long time, as if he didn't recognize them. But the tips of his ears slowly turned red.
He shot a quick glance at Qiu Yun and wrote a few words on the paper: *Focus on your studies.*
How could Qiu Yun possibly stop there? Liang He’s reaction was exactly what she wanted. She stared at him boldly for two seconds, took the paper back, and nearly bit her lip to keep from laughing as she wrote: *Have you ever considered that your future wife might be a lesbian?*
When the note was passed back, sure enough, Liang He’s expression went through a cycle of colors like a disco ball—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. Qiu Yun slumped onto the table, hiding half her face in the sleeve of her sweater, revealing only her eyes which were crinkled with laughter. However, her shaking shoulders betrayed her. Liang He took a deep breath and slowly turned his head. He was about to snap at her, but when he met Qiu Yun’s eyes—two crescent moons hiding a mischievous glint—for some inexplicable reason, his anger vanished. Instead, he felt a strange sense of happiness.
Still, he kept a cold face and wrote briefly: *If you aren't going to study, come outside with me.* After writing, he tapped his index finger twice on the table.
It reminded Qiu Yun of a middle school dean’s habitual gesture when scolding someone. Unmoved, she asked him with her eyes: *For what?*
Liang He looked down at her from his height, but the note he handed over said: *I'm treating you to a late-night snack.*
Qiu Yun sat bolt upright. *You still have money?* After treating the department teachers, shouldn't that 200 yuan be mostly gone?
Liang He handed over two more words, words that gave Qiu Yun goosebumps.
*US Dollars.*
***
**Glossary**
Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation
--- | --- | ---
勤工俭学 | Work-study | A program where students work part-time jobs provided by the school to earn money.
辅导员 | Counselor | A staff member in Chinese universities responsible for the administrative and ideological management of students.
研一 | First-year graduate student | Short for 研究生一年级.
穿越 | Time travel / Transmigration | In this context, the modern slang for traveling through time.
美金 | US Dollars | Referring to the currency of the prize money.
林春霞 | Lin Chunxia | Deputy head of the Oil Painting Department.
陈静韬 | Chen Jingtao | Liang He's supervisor/professor.
张旭 | Zhang Xu | Qiu Yun's classmate in the work-study program.
