Zheng Yang felt she had conquered another challenge, and one concerning her son Zheng Siyuan—arguably the most important one at that.
She thought her school life could finally settle down, but she had forgotten one thing.
No matter how perfect you are, there will always be people who dislike you.
Even if you’re the class favorite—take Lin Weiwei, for example.
Lin Weiwei’s hostility was never something that happened overnight.
From the first day of school, that “tch” sound, to the contempt during military training, to the resentful look after the student council election, Zheng Yang always knew this girl didn’t like her, but she never really took it seriously.
In her eyes, Lin Weiwei was just a spoiled little brat who couldn’t cause any real trouble.
But she underestimated the jealousy of a teenage girl.
The side effects of her plan to “tarnish” herself for her son were much greater than she expected.
She frequently hung out with boys like Zhang Zihan and Li Tong, arm in arm, calling each other brothers, even laughing off slightly risqué jokes.
When they said things like “dribbling into the penalty area,” she didn’t get angry but instead laughed and cursed back.
In the boys’ eyes, this was “being a good sport” and “able to take a joke,” but in the girls’ eyes—especially Lin Weiwei’s—it meant something else entirely.
“Zheng Yangyang is really something, hanging out with boys all day. What does she think she is?”
“Didn’t you see her messing around with Zhang Zihan? Her chest was bouncing all over the place. No shame at all.”
“I heard she even lets the boys call her ‘Bro Yang.’ Tsk, is she trying to be a tomboy, or…”
The sentence was left unfinished, but the meaningful glance said it all.
Zheng Yang had heard these rumors, but she didn’t care.
She was already “tarnishing” herself on purpose, hoping that a bad reputation would make Siyuan give up sooner—though that goal hadn’t been achieved either.
As for what others thought of her, she was a 38-year-old soul—why would she care about a few little girls’ gossip?
But she never imagined Lin Weiwei would do more than just gossip.
One afternoon during a break, Zheng Yang went to the water room to get water.
The water room was small, with rows of faucets and a “Save Water” poster on the wall.
Zheng Yang was bent over filling her cup when she heard footsteps behind her.
She turned her head and saw Lin Weiwei walking in with a cup, wearing a smirk that wasn’t quite a smile.
Zheng Yang didn’t think much of it and continued filling her cup.
Lin Weiwei walked to the faucet next to her, turned it on, and filled her cup to the brim.
Then she turned around, as if she had slipped, and threw the entire cup of water at Zheng Yang’s chest.
“Ah!”
Lin Weiwei cried out in surprise, and the cup fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.
Zheng Yang couldn’t dodge in time and took the full hit.
A wave of coldness later, she looked down at her chest—the white cross-collared school uniform was instantly soaked, clinging tightly to her skin.
Underneath, the outline and color of her bra, even the lace pattern, were faintly visible.
There were two or three other girls in the water room.
Some covered their mouths, some turned away, and some sneaked peeks.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”
Lin Weiwei bowed, her face full of “remorse,” but her voice was as calm as if she hadn’t just made a mistake.
“I didn’t mean to, my hand slipped. I’m really sorry!”
Zheng Yang looked up and met Lin Weiwei’s eyes.
There was not a trace of apology in those eyes.
Zheng Yang had lived 38 years—what kind of person hadn’t she seen? She was all too familiar with this kind of “accident.”
Office politics, “slipping” while pouring wine at dinner parties—were any of those less sophisticated?
Lin Weiwei’s little trick was as childish as playing house in her eyes.
For a moment, she wanted to teach Lin Weiwei a lesson.
She had never provoked her; Lin Weiwei was the one who always misunderstood and disliked her.
She deserved a lesson—but only for a moment.
After all, what would teaching her a lesson accomplish?
Even if she made a big scene—have Teacher Li check the surveillance?
Make Lin Weiwei apologize?
Then what?
The whole grade would know that Zheng Yangyang had water thrown on her, that she was soaked, that everyone saw her underwear.
She would be the one embarrassed, not Lin Weiwei.
Besides, Lin Weiwei hadn’t thrown boiling water.
“It’s okay.”
Zheng Yang tugged at her soaked shirt and forced a smile.
“You didn’t mean it. I’ll just go back and change.”
She picked up her cup and walked out of the water room.
Behind her, Lin Weiwei stood still, her expression shifting from “remorse” to shock, and then from shock to resentment.
She hadn’t expected Zheng Yang to react like this.
No crying, no yelling, no tattling—just walking away as if nothing happened?
It made all the lines she had prepared—
“If you don’t believe me, check the surveillance,” “I really didn’t mean it,” “Why are you being so unforgiving?”—completely useless.
What made her even more uncomfortable was Zheng Yang’s “whatever” attitude, like a slap across the face.
It was as if she was saying: “Such a trivial matter isn’t worth my anger.”
Zheng Yang left the water room and looked down at her chest again.
Soaked through—even more transparent than right after the water was thrown.
The shape of her bra was clearly visible.
She sighed, raised one arm to cover her chest, and quickly walked toward the office.
“Report.”
“Come in.”
Teacher Li was sitting at his desk preparing lessons. He looked up and froze.
“Zheng Yangyang? What happened to you?”
He saw her soaked uniform, her arm across her chest as if to hide something, but her thin arm couldn’t cover it completely—the outline of her bra was still slightly visible.
“Teacher, I accidentally spilled water on myself. I’d like to ask for leave to go home and change.”
Zheng Yang said it lightly.
Teacher Li stood up, took a few steps closer, and frowned.
“Accidentally?”
He looked at the wet patch, then at Zheng Yang’s face.
“Tell me honestly, what happened?”
“It really was an accident.”
Zheng Yang smiled.
“Just spilled some water.”
Teacher Li stared at her for a few seconds.
He wasn’t a fresh graduate.
He had been at Wenjing Academy for a few years and had seen all kinds of student schemes.
The position and shape of the water stain, combined with the “I don’t want to pursue this” expression on Zheng Yang’s face—there was no way this was an “accident.”
“Who did it?”
His voice turned serious.
“Teacher, there’s really no one. I was just careless.”
“Zheng Yangyang.”
Teacher Li’s tone brooked no argument.
“You’re the class monitor. If someone bullies you and you don’t speak up, she’ll bully other students later.”
Zheng Yang was silent for a moment.
She knew Teacher Li was right, but she still shook her head.
“Teacher, it’s really nothing. I can handle it myself.”
What would talking do?
Teacher Li would call Lin Weiwei for a talk?
Lin Weiwei would deny everything?
Then they’d be in an even deeper feud?
A 38-year-old fighting with a 15-year-old girl—how embarrassing would that be?
Teacher Li looked at her and sighed.
“Alright, if you won’t talk, I won’t force you.”
He turned and walked to a cabinet, opened it, and pulled out a neatly folded school uniform.
“I happen to have a spare here. It’s new, never worn. Change into it first.”
Zheng Yang was taken aback.
“Teacher, no need. I’ll just ask for leave and go home—”
“Isn’t it tiring to go back and forth? And skip the next class?”
Teacher Li handed her the uniform.
“Change right here. I’ll wait outside. Call me when you’re done.”
Zheng Yang took the uniform, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Teacher Li meant well, but her underwear was also wet.
She needed to change that too.
Should she tell him?
She suddenly felt shy—or rather, she was afraid that if she said it, Teacher Li would be embarrassed.
“Then… thank you, Teacher.”
Teacher Li nodded, walked out of the office, and closed the door with the small window behind him.
In the office, Zheng Yang watched Teacher Li’s head pass by the small window on the door.
She sighed in resignation and began unbuttoning her uniform.
The soaked cross-collared uniform stuck to her skin, very uncomfortable.
After taking it off, it was still uncomfortable because her bra was wet too.
The white lace bra—Wu Chun had taken her to buy it last time.
She looked down at herself—her breasts were held by the bra, and there were still water stains on her skin, faintly glistening.
She hesitated for a moment.
Then she reached behind her back, fumbled for the bra clasp, pinched it and pulled in opposite directions.
The clasp came undone, the bra slipped off, and her chest felt instantly lighter.
Her entire upper body was now bare, and below, she only wore a short skirt.
She picked up the wet uniform, used the dry parts to wipe the water off her chest and arms.
Then she finally tore open the plastic bag of the new uniform.
Outside, Teacher Li thought enough time had passed for changing clothes, so he moved his face to the small window to check.
But what he saw was Zheng Yang, topless, just taking out the new uniform.
Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a golden glow on Zheng Yang’s body.
The full yet slender silhouette was even clearer, alluring, and yet seemed to carry a hint of holiness.
Teacher Li had accidentally seen it.
He knew he should look away immediately, but he was frozen.
It wasn’t about lust—he had never seen such a beautiful sight before.
An unguarded young girl, a perfect body, a sacred radiance…
Perhaps he would never have the chance to see such a scene except in a painter’s work.
Zheng Yang, with her chest out, unfolded the new uniform.
She happened to glance toward the small window on the door.
Panicked, Teacher Li quickly crouched down, shuffled a few steps to the side, and then stood up.
‘We didn’t make eye contact. She probably didn’t see me…’
Teacher Li thought, his heart pounding violently.
Zheng Yang smiled and turned back to put on the uniform.
‘Phew… not wearing a bra is quite comfortable, but…’
She looked down.
‘Will it show?’
‘Even if I can’t see it, I should cover up with my arm.’
As for Teacher Li peeking just now—men, she understood them too well.
Besides, her body was a powerful temptation for men.
Those who could resist were gentlemen; those who couldn’t weren’t necessarily villains.
So…
“If I were a normal girl, I’d never let you off, but I’m…”
Zheng Yang thought and then broke into a smile, muttering to herself, “Let’s let it slide this time, Teacher Li. I trust you.”
She put the wet clothes into a bag and carried it out of the office.
Teacher Li’s ears were still red.
“Teacher, I’ve changed. Thank you!”
Zheng Yang looked up at Teacher Li with a sincere smile.
“Ah, good… then… go to class. If you need anything, feel free to come to me.”
“Okay!”
Teacher Li watched Zheng Yang’s retreating figure, his mind full of the smile she had just given him.
That smile made him feel as if she was like a broad, beautiful, gentle sunset—comforting, and making darkness feel guilty.
He wasn’t an inexperienced young teacher.
He had seen many pretty female students, even more outstanding ones than Zheng Yang.
But he had never felt this way before.
That feeling of… wanting to protect someone.
No, it was protecting an angel.