[The Teacher's Desire] Part 1

I.
When I saw Ms. Deng Hui again, she was already a thirty-two-year-old married woman.
Thirty-two is a very delicate stage for a woman.
Though her youthful days are gone, the beautiful shadow of youth still lingers. A mature flower, tinged with vibrant color
, still has time before its fading. Although she wasn't the stunning young woman I remembered,
the allure she exuded was still so profound.
I stubbed out my cigarette and gently exhaled the last wisp of smoke. Four years of university had ended, and two years after graduation,
I finished working in the south and returned to my hometown, finding a good job.
Six years had made this once familiar city somewhat unfamiliar. The towering buildings, the crisscrossing
overpasses, the exquisite and bustling pedestrian streets, even the fashionable women on the streets,
all seemed to confuse my not-so-distant memories.
Few of my high school friends remained; some went abroad, some went to big cities, and some
disappeared without a trace. Those who stayed only occasionally gathered to reminisce about the hard but fulfilling days of the past.
When they mentioned the beautiful homeroom teacher from the next class, I didn't say a word. It was a
popular topic on campus at the time. The young female teacher, fashionable and with exquisite makeup,
stood out so much among the plain-looking teachers.
The most sensational moment was one autumn day when she wore a shiny black leather jacket, revealing a large expanse of
snow-white skin below her neck. I still clearly remember that day, how many boys looked down from the third floor,
excitedly watching her cleavage, like a flock of noisy sparrows.
I wasn't among them; I only glanced at her briefly before silently returning to my seat. Just seeing their
excited expressions made me feel a silent sense of loss.
The boys in my class all talked about how lucky the next class was to have such a teacher. If they had known that
Deng Hui was my homeroom teacher in junior high, I believe many would have looked at me with envy
.
When I first entered junior high, my understanding of women was still somewhat vague. At first, I only knew that the teacher was beautiful and didn't
have any other thoughts. Gradually, I grew taller, my voice deepened, and
sparse stubble appeared on my chin. Sometimes, seeing a teacher would stir a strange impulse within me, but I didn't truly understand
what that feeling was until that one day. It was
a Sunday evening. I sat in the seat near the door. The school was a boarding school, and there were
two evening study sessions on Sunday nights. Tonight was Chinese class. The door creaked open. Suddenly, a bright light flashed before my eyes,
as if I saw a fiery red lantern shining there.
Deng Hui was wearing a bright red business suit, her hair styled in waves. Her form-fitting clothes
accentuated her curvaceous figure, the neckline plunging deep, revealing her firm breasts encased in a thin shirt
. Her skirt, high above the knee, proudly displayed the allure of her shapely legs. Thin, flesh-colored stockings
clung to her skin; even a glance was enough to feel the smoothness of her flesh.
The moment I saw Deng Hui, it was as if a spark ignited in my heart, and my whole body trembled.
I involuntarily murmured, "So beautiful."
The teacher seemed to hear me, a slight smile appearing on her lips. From that moment on,
Deng Hui's beautiful image was forever etched in my mind.
From that day on, I eagerly awaited Chinese class. Guessing how Deng Hui would dress before each class
became almost the only amusement in my otherwise monotonous school life. Gradually, I noticed a pattern: only
on Sunday evenings would Deng Hui wear more beautiful clothes, and her hairstyle and makeup would be more elaborate.
Although I didn't understand why, the end of the weekend, which other students dreaded, became the
evening I looked forward to most each week.
I began to devote more energy to Chinese class. Moreover, I was surprised to find that I increasingly enjoyed
reading and writing. It seemed that doing these things made me feel closer to the teacher.
Surprises always come so suddenly. One day, Teacher Deng suddenly called me to her office.
My grades had always been above average; although I didn't receive special tutoring, I was rarely criticized. With a mix of doubt
and excitement, I approached Deng Hui's office.
She wore a light green turtleneck sweater, the tight design highlighting her curves, making my breath
catch in my throat.
"Liu, your essay last time was excellent. Have you been reading a lot?" Teacher Deng asked gently
, looking at me.
"Yes." I nodded, trying to avoid her ample bosom.
"There's a language arts competition in the city next weekend, and I'd like you to participate."
"Okay." I nodded somewhat nervously.
"Then starting next week, come to my room during evening self-study to prepare for the competition, okay?"
I was stunned. Young teachers usually lived in the school's staff dormitory, and Deng Hui was one of them.
It wasn't that no one had been to Teacher Deng's dormitory before, but… I felt a wave of dizziness. I opened
my mouth to say something, but my jaw muscles were so stiff.
"What's wrong? Winning an award will be very beneficial for your college entrance exams," the teacher advised, probably thinking I didn't want to spend
time studying.
"No, no, I will... I will come." I nodded hurriedly.
As I left the research office, I quickly ran to my seat in the classroom, silently calculating
how much time was left until next Monday. That night, I had my first nocturnal emission.
*******************************************************************
Now, no longer the naive boy I once was, when I met Teacher Deng again, that seemingly distant feeling
was so vividly rekindled. Over the years, I've had flirtations, dated girlfriends, and
rarely thought of my teacher. A few days ago, I happened to hear that Teacher Deng lived near the High-tech Development Zone, and with a vague
hope, I strolled along the lakeside next to the development zone.
I knew she was married. What kind of person was her husband? How was she doing? These
questions flashed through my mind, and my only concern was perhaps seeing her again.
But today, when I saw a woman strolling along the lakeside path, I almost immediately recognized her—it
was my teacher.
Surprisingly, without the slightest hesitation, I naturally went up to her and called out, "Teacher."
She looked up; her eyebrows were delicate, her lips were bright red, and her long, flowing hair was loose. Without a doubt, she
was Deng Hui. The once beautiful and fashionable woman now possessed a more composed and gentle demeanor, like a ripe
peach—even without touching it, its softness and juiciness were evident from its color.
"You are…" Deng Hui looked at me hesitantly, as if she recognized me but wasn't sure.
"I'm Liu, do you remember? In junior high…" I said with a smile.
"Oh! Liu! I remember you. Wow, you've really grown into a young man." Deng Hui laughed,
the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes unable to conceal the beauty of her smile.
"I just got back. I was working in Shenzhen before," I said, suppressing my pounding heart. "Now I
work at a software company in the development zone."
"Really? That's great. I remember you were a very smart kid back then. By the way, your Chinese was excellent.
" Deng Hui nodded, smiling.
"That's because you were my Chinese teacher."
"No, no, language is something you're born with; you can't teach it."
"Teacher, are you free now? Let's go sit in that coffee shop over there." Perhaps the invitation was a bit abrupt,
but today I couldn't bear any hesitation or regret.
Deng Hui paused, her gaze leaving my face. She seemed to think for a moment, then looked up and said,
"Okay."
In the coffee shop, Teacher Deng and I sat at a window seat on the second floor. The lake outside the window, bathed in the setting sun
, was veiled by a curtain of golden and crimson hues. Was the sunset so breathtaking
that it unleashed all its beauty without reservation, knowing darkness was approaching?
There were few people around; it was almost just the two of us. I put down the menu, asked the waiter to leave, and looked at Ms. Deng across from me.
This was the first time in many years that I had faced her alone. My heart pounded as it had always been.
We talked about the past—middle school, high school, and occasionally, about our current lives. Memories always
bring a unique feeling, especially sitting with a former teacher like a friend. Looking
at her face, leaning back in the plush chair, I couldn't help but recall that night, that
scene I could never forget.

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