Tears streamed down her face, but she had no time to wipe them away, bending over as she strained with all her might.
“Teacher, can I help you with anything?” Mianmian’s voice trembled too.
The teacher gasped for breath, struggling to speak with an unspeakable shame. “I need a bottle of glycerin enema. Can you get it for me? It’s in the bottom drawer of my desk…”
Mianmian froze for a moment, then nodded immediately. “Okay.”
“And… there’s also… a pair of overnight pants in the drawer… bring those too…”
After saying this, she seemed to have used up all her strength, her head drooping weakly again, revealing only a sweat-dampened crown of hair.
Her cheeks instantly flushed, and an indescribable warmth surged in her heart—a mix of shock, embarrassment, and a deeper, more profound thrill at being entrusted with such a private matter by her teacher.
Seeing the teacher’s weak and helpless state, that flicker of embarrassment was quickly overwhelmed by a surge of courage fueled by intense worry and a sense of responsibility.
“Okay! I’ll go right away!” Mianmian agreed without hesitation, turning to run.
“Wait!” Teacher Hu called her back, her voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of shame, faint as a wisp, heavy with panting. “Mianmian… if there are other teachers in the office… just say you’re getting some tissues for me… okay?”
Her eyes were filled with pleading and vulnerability.
Mianmian’s heart felt as if pricked by a needle. She nodded firmly. “Don’t worry, Teacher! I understand!”
Mianmian ran to the teacher’s desk and opened the drawer. Inside, many items were neatly arranged. After rummaging for a while, she found the glycerin enema and a pack of overnight pants.
She grabbed these things and hurried back to the bathroom stall door. The door opened a crack, and the teacher’s hand reached out, trembling violently.
“Thank you…” the teacher’s voice came through the crack, both grateful and awkward, like a child who had done something wrong. “You should go back and review… there’s still an exam this afternoon…”
“Teacher, are you really okay?”
“I’m fine…” Teacher Hu said, her voice thin and shaky. “It’s just constipation. It happens when you’re close to giving birth. The glycerin enema will help… Please go now…”
Mianmian stood there, unsure whether to believe her.
“Go…” the teacher’s voice came again, tinged with a hint of pleading.
Mianmian had no choice but to turn and leave.
After leaving the office, she stood in the hallway, not leaving immediately. She lingered there, hearing groans from the bathroom and the sound of a faucet dripping—tap, tap, tap.
The teacher was straining again.
Unable to rest easy, she stood there for a long time until another teacher came out of the office, looking at her strangely.
She had no choice but to walk away slowly.
In the afternoon, Mianmian returned to the exam hall.
She thought Teacher Hu wouldn’t come, but as she turned onto the third-floor landing, she saw a familiar figure leaning on the stair railing, struggling to move upward.
Though only a noon had passed, Mianmian could barely recognize her.
She had changed clothes, now wearing a light gray maternity dress. Her hair had been tied up again, but a few strands still hung loose.
Her face was even more swollen than in the morning, her eyelids puffy and red, as if she had been crying for a long time. Her lips were dry and peeling, with a small crack at the corner of her mouth, scabbed over in a dark red crust.
The once round, full, and high abdomen now sagged noticeably downward. The hem of her skirt was stretched even higher, almost reaching the top of her thighs, revealing the swollen legs beneath.
Just then, Teacher Li, who taught history, was coming down the stairs. She was in her forties, and her son was already in middle school.
“Oh, Teacher Hu!” Teacher Li’s voice was filled with concern and worry. “You don’t look well at all! Your complexion is so pale!”
She carefully observed Teacher Hu’s noticeably sagging abdomen and pained expression. “Your due date must be soon, right? Your belly has dropped so much.”
Teacher Hu nodded shyly, trying to stand a little straighter. “Yes… the baby engaged at noon, and the pressure is intense. It might be soon.”
Teacher Li frowned. “That must be miserable. Oh, this… this is really… How about taking the afternoon off and going home to rest? How can you proctor an exam like this? You could go into labor at any moment!”
After catching her breath, Teacher Hu shook her head. “I’d be alone at home anyway. I’d rather stay at school. It’s fine, I’ll manage until after today’s exam. My husband will pick me up after work tonight.”
“Then you must be very careful!” Teacher Li urged anxiously. “If you feel anything wrong, call for help immediately! Don’t push yourself too hard!”
“Yes… Thank you, Teacher Li…” Teacher Hu replied softly, her voice full of exhaustion.
Mianmian carefully supported her, clearly feeling the weight of the teacher’s body. The heavy abdomen pressed against her arm, and every contraction transmitted a distinct tightness.
The short flight of stairs felt as long as an eternity.
When they finally stepped onto the flat ground of the fourth floor, Teacher Hu let out a long, relieved sigh, leaning almost entirely on Mianmian as she breathed heavily. Her bangs were completely soaked with sweat, clinging to her smooth forehead.
“Thank you, Mianmian…” Her voice was still weak, but her eyes were filled with sincere gratitude. “Go on in… the exam is about to start…”
The afternoon exam began.
Mianmian held her breath and tiptoed to her seat. The rustling sound of exam papers being handed out blurred in her ears. Her eyes couldn’t tear away from the podium.
Teacher Hu tried her best to straighten her back, attempting to maintain the posture expected of a proctor. But her usually gentle eyes now held a suppressed anxiety and pain, her gaze seeming unfocused.
As the students began answering the questions, Mianmian quietly looked up.
Teacher Hu leaned on the podium, slowly and cautiously trying to sit on the chair behind it.
However, the moment her hips touched the seat, her body stiffened abruptly, as if struck hard by something.
She stood up almost immediately, with a hint of embarrassment and urgency. Her cheeks flushed instantly, and her breathing became erratic.
She remained in that half-squatting, half-sitting, awkward position, her body trembling slightly from the sudden, intense pain. After several dozen seconds, she managed, with great difficulty, to gradually straighten up again, abandoning the attempt to sit down.
She took a step back and leaned against the wall.
Leaning against the wall, she seemed to feel a little more comfortable. But then it came again—her whole body arched forward, both hands clutching her belly, knees bending as she nearly crouched to the ground. Her mouth hung open, panting, but without a sound. Not a single sound.
Mianmian understood: the teacher didn’t dare make a noise, afraid of disturbing their exam.
Mianmian’s heart raced wildly, like a frightened rabbit had been tucked inside her chest.
Worry coiled around her heart like vines, almost suffocating her.
The teacher’s pained expression made her ache, yet at the same time, an indescribable thrill quietly stirred deep within her.
That enormous, tightly clothed pregnant belly, writhing and trembling in pain; that sweat-drenched yet stubbornly enduring profile; those suppressed, deep-throated gasps…
All of it carried a breathtaking, primal vitality that firmly seized her gaze, making her want to look away yet unable to tear herself from the fascination.
Time crawled slowly in the silent torment. The invigilator’s occasional footsteps echoed in the quiet classroom, only highlighting the lonely figure on the podium enduring in silence.
Mianmian forced herself to answer a few multiple-choice questions, her handwriting shaky and crooked—she didn’t even know what she had written. Her attention was completely drawn to the movements on the podium.
Suddenly, the teacher sharply inhaled, her body instantly stiffening as if struck hard by a tremendous force from within.
Her head jerked backward, the line of her neck stretched taut, and a short, strained groan escaped her throat—as if the pain was extreme yet forcibly stifled between her lips.
Her fingers gripping the podium tightened abruptly, nails scraping against the wood with a harsh sound.
Immediately after, her waist arched uncontrollably backward, the heavy belly lifting with it into a startling curve. The taut surface of her dress stretched smooth as a mirror, clearly reflecting the massive, round, firm outline at the base of her abdomen.
The bulge was so distinct, so full, as if it might burst through the thin fabric at any moment.
Mianmian could even see the skin at the apex of that round, firm protrusion stretched extremely thin, under the classroom ceiling lights, taking on an almost translucent quality, faintly outlining the rounded curve beneath.
Mianmian’s breath caught abruptly, her pupils contracting sharply.