It seems like it was during a break sometime in my memory, and the teacher was leaning against the podium, resting with his eyes closed. Even though we've known each other for a long time, I still don't know how to describe that feeling, really. He looked very young, but in terms of his words, actions, and experience, he seemed like someone who had lived for a very long time, or, to be more precise, like a ghost.
I swear from the bottom of my heart that I am not cursing my teacher. It's just that he really doesn't seem like someone who is still alive in this world, even if his body can be touched, his voice can be heard, and his will can be conveyed.
But no one could capture his heart, because it simply didn't exist. I always thought so.
I had mentioned this to Cao Dezhi once before, and surprisingly, he didn't accuse me of meddling; in fact, he agreed. So we started talking. I could sense the complexity of the emotions, while he could sense their magnitude. After exchanging our feelings, we discovered that Professor Huo Dong's emotions were almost completely suppressed. I don't know if all top-tier experts possess this ability, but when facing him, our emotions seemed to be swallowed up by a black hole called greed, leaving not even a trace.
His expression was always as bland as tasteless water. Thinking back, it seemed he only ever showed three expressions to his students: a smile, silence, and curiosity. Anger, sadness, hatred… all seemed to vanish from him. We had never seen a teacher like that before.
At that time, I jokingly said, "Could it be that the teacher has suffered a heartbreak? So far, no one has been able to get his number, and even emergency contact has been done indirectly through teaching assistant Bing." Cao Dezhi thought about it seriously for a while and said, "Maybe it really is. However, if we consider it from the perspective of emotional deprivation, in addition to heartbreak, the teacher may have suffered some external trauma that caused the emotional module to stop working."
I thought what he said made a lot of sense, so when I recalled this, I just blurted out the question.
"Teacher, you're so cautious and skilled, you must not have been injured much, right?"
The teacher opened his eyes in surprise. Cao Dezhi, who was standing next to me, was speechless at my question, but I ignored him. I'll get the teacher to say something in a moment, and you'll be impressed.
"How could that be?" After a brief moment of surprise, the teacher regained his composure. This answer was expected; his deep, weary eyes were a testament to his extensive experience.
So I pressed my advantage and asked, "Teacher, what was the most serious injury you've ever suffered?"
"The heaviest one?" Then he fell silent for almost a minute, which frightened me so much that I kept calling for the teacher, but he still didn't respond.
Oh no, did I really give the teacher PTSD? I'm so sorry, teacher, please don't! Please live!
I truly regret asking that question, even though the teacher later said it was nothing and had long since passed. But that minute of silence he spent was terrifying: the mysterious and powerful figure we held in our hearts, the teacher, was like a perfectly sculpted and awe-inspiring statue, maliciously shattered, yet through sheer willpower, he pieced together the nearly dust-like fragments, reshaping himself into the person he is today—still perfect from afar, but utterly weathered up close, his heart utterly empty. In that minute, he seemed to be contemplating where his heart had gone. If he found the answer, would his soul depart with his departed heart? I was truly terrified.
Fortunately, none of my worries came true. After regaining his composure, the teacher simply smiled and explained that he had been thinking a bit too far ahead. Then he answered my question: the most serious injury he had ever suffered was being stabbed nine times in the abdomen, which nearly killed him on the spot.
Cao Dezhi and I almost jumped out of our seats. Nine stabs? Is the person opposite us crazy? Then the teacher gave us a strange look and said, "He stabbed himself."
We hope we haven't stumbled upon a scene of lovers' suicide pact.
But I didn't dare ask, afraid of reminding the teacher of unpleasant stories. Seeing that we looked like we were about to have nightmares, the teacher sighed and added that it was actually a misunderstanding. The other person had taken his companion hostage, and after he did as he was told, he realized that the other person was actually a good person. He had reasons for doing so that he couldn't say, and in the end, it was a way of helping him in a roundabout way.
Don't overthink it, it's all in the past. That's how the teacher always smiles and gives others a way out.
I suddenly had a fleeting hope that a second "her" or "him" would appear in my teacher's life, filling the void in his heart; but, as he said, the right one is the best. Countless people admire my teacher, but among the myriad stars, the one that truly belonged to him may have already fallen.
That was the last time this matter was discussed.