The Devil's Temperature

Anger

Pei Chuan made no further attempt to drive her away, and Bei Yao’s joy bubbled over.

Slung over her shoulders was a white cloth schoolbag—bought for her by Zhao Zhilan at the market the previous day for five yuan. A tiny panda doll dangled from its strap.

This schoolbag was Bei Yao’s favorite across both lifetimes. It was nearly half her size, yet she carried it faithfully for years on end.

Even in her fragmented third-grade memories, it still accompanied her.

Bei Yao carefully tucked the bag into her desk as Teacher Yu began distributing textbooks.

Teaching preschool was no easy task. Serving as a bridge between kindergarten and elementary school, it demanded a shift from kindergarten’s lax discipline—where play dominated—to structured order. Teachers had to alternate between encouragement and firmness, balancing kindness with authority to rein in the children’s boundless playfulness.

Yu Qian asked: “Which little friends would help the teacher pass out these textbooks?”

Dozens of small hands shot up eagerly; Chen Hu, the chubby boy, was so enthusiastic he nearly jumped out of his seat. With a smile, Yu Qian picked Chen Hu, Li Da, and four other children to hand out the books.

Preschool textbooks were small, illustrated with colorful pictures. The brand-new books felt surprisingly heavy in the children’s hands—each could only carry five or six at a time. Yu Qian, however, had intended this as a way to boost their initiative, so a slower pace mattered little.

The children, holding their first preschool textbooks, could barely wait to flip through the pages.

Chen Hu’s eyes darted. At the bottom of the stack was a math book with curled corners smudged with dirt. He picked it up, walked to the first desk by the window, and tossed it onto Pei Chuan’s desk.

A faint cloud of dust rose; the curled edges stood out starkly.

Pei Chuan’s face remained expressionless. He took the dirtiest textbook and began writing his name, his grip on the pencil neat and proper. On the first page, he inscribed, “Pei Chuan, Preschool Class 1.” When he glanced up, he found the little girl staring at him.

Half of her hair bun had come loose, lending her a comically endearing look—one she was oblivious to. A ribbon dangled by her cheek. Seated so close, she carried a soft, milky scent; tiny and pure, her eyes held no trace of malice.

When she met his gaze, she broke into a bright, radiant smile.

On his next trip distributing books, Chen Hu rolled his eyes dramatically before handing Bei Yao a crisp, clean new textbook. “Thank you, Chen Hu,” Bei Yao said.

Chen Hu huffed and moved on to the next student.

Though Chen Hu loathed Pei Chuan, he did not take his anger out on Bei Yao. But if she insisted on befriending “the mute,” that might well change.

Bei Yao flipped through her new book, first curious about the content and colorful illustrations, then carefully writing her name in neat strokes.

Pei Chuan stared straight ahead, indifferent to whether the little girl could write her name or what she might have written.

Since the textbooks were handed out, the classroom had buzzed with chatter. Yu Qian remained unhurried—she had years of teaching experience and knew how to manage such children. She first gave them time to introduce themselves to their deskmates and neighbors, and the room erupted into lively conversation.

A pencil tip poked Bei Yao’s sleeve. She turned around to see a thin little girl grinning: “I’m Ni Hui. What’s your name?”

“I’m Bei Yao.”

Ni Hui stole a glance at Pei Chuan, who sat in front of them, but dared not speak to him.

Ni Hui’s deskmate, a little boy with shaggy hair and freckles on his cheeks, leaned over to join the conversation: “I’m Gu Xinghua. I’m five years old.”

No one called out to Pei Chuan, and he did not mind. He lowered his eyes, quietly flipping through his textbook.

After Bei Yao finished greeting her new friends, she turned back to look at him. For some reason, Pei Chuan’s heart was no longer as calm as before—he even felt a flicker of irritation, as if he wanted to yank her messy hair bun apart and forbid her from staring any longer.

Pei Chuan steadied his breath and turned the pages with a blank expression.

Unlike kindergarten, preschool ended only at 11 a.m. A group of children, fresh from the freedom of kindergarten, craned their necks early, eager to spot their parents’ figures.

Yu Qian smiled: “Mom and Dad won’t come to the classroom door to pick you up. The teacher will take you to the school gate to line up neatly. Starting with the first group, stand in a straight line—then we’ll go meet Mom, Dad, Grandpa, and Grandma!”

All the other children followed this routine, except Pei Chuan. Due to his special needs, Pei Haobin rode his motorcycle onto the school grounds to pick him up.

As Pei Haobin helped his son onto the motorcycle, he passed the vehicle entrance and spotted little Bei Yao—standing obediently at the front of the line on the left, her sharp eyes catching sight of them.

Small for her age, she looked like a tiny, round dumpling.

Her chubby face and messy hair buns were utterly endearing.

Pei Haobin couldn’t help but chuckle: “Yaoyao’s in preschool too, and in your class, Xiao Chuan. We’re going the same way—let’s give her a ride home.” The Bei family had no car; for such a young child to walk the long distance alone, even Pei Haobin felt a twinge of pity.

The inexplicable irritation Pei Chuan had felt in the classroom still lingered.

Calmly, he said: “Dad, let’s go. What if her mom has already come to pick her up and gets worried when she can’t find her?”

Pei Haobin thought it over—his son had a point. He revved the motorcycle and drove forward.

Pei Chuan’s small face remained impassive as he glanced diagonally backward.

At the front of the line, the little girl’s clear eyes widened in surprise as she watched father and son ride past. She recognized Uncle Pei’s motorcycle. Bei Yao’s eyes crinkled into crescents, and she waved vigorously, brimming with joy—Goodbye, Pei Chuan!

Pei Chuan turned his gaze forward, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Since learning that Bei Yao had enrolled in preschool, Zhao Xiu had been in a foul mood.

At the garment factory, the sewing machines hummed in a steady rhythm as Zhao Xiu chatted with Zhao Zhilan: “Your Yaoyao’s only four. Sending her to preschool so young—what if she can’t keep up with the lessons?”

Zhao Zhilan’s heart swelled with pride, but after years of dealing with Zhao Xiu, she had mastered the art of feigning modesty. Her hands never paused on the sewing machine as she replied: “Yaoyao has a bit of a knack for studying. She can already do arithmetic problems, and she begged to go to preschool herself.”

The sewing machine beside her fell silent. Zhao Xiu nearly pricked her finger with the needle.

Gritting her teeth, Zhao Xiu seethed inwardly. Fang Minjun was half a month older than Bei Yao, yet she was still playing games in kindergarten—while Bei Yao was already in preschool. Would her daughter always be a grade behind Zhao Zhilan’s?

That simply would not do!

As soon as she got home, Zhao Xiu discussed it with her husband: “Let’s send Minmin to preschool too. The elementary school is close—we can talk to the teachers, beg if we have to.”

Zhao Xiu’s husband, Fang Xin, disagreed: “Minmin’s only four.”

“So what? That silly Bei Yao’s in preschool already!”

“Don’t call other people’s children ‘silly.’”

Zhao Xiu waved off his objection: “But she is slow! The kindergarten teacher said Bei Yao learns things slower than most kids. Our Minmin’s so smart—she’ll do fine in preschool.” The more she thought about it, the more urgent it felt. She paced the room, pinching Fang Xin’s arm: “Are you just being lazy? Let me tell you, this has to get done. Our Minmin is going to preschool this year!”

Fang Xin sighed in resignation. Unable to resist Zhao Xiu’s unreasonable demands and relentless pestering, he agreed to go handle the enrollment. As a teacher himself, arranging this was far easier for him than it had been for the Bei family.

Zhao Xiu pulled Fang Minjun aside: “Minmin, listen to Mom. Soon you’ll be going to preschool. Study hard there, obey your teachers, understand? You must work hard on your exams—make sure you score better than Bei Yao, no matter what.”

Fang Minjun’s “Little Jade Lady” face turned serious, and she nodded solemnly.

Zhao Xiu felt reassured.

That night, Zhao Xiu had a dream. It was the final exam, and Minmin came home with a perfect score of 100. Downstairs, that silly Bei Yao had only scored 50, and Zhao Zhilan’s nose was practically twisted with anger.

In her dream, Zhao Xiu couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Because preschool was much farther than kindergarten, Bei Yao now had to get up at 6:30 every morning.

Each day, she stumbled out of bed, rubbing her sleepy eyes, but by the time she left the house, she was wide awake and full of energy.

Neither Zhao Zhilan nor Bei Licai’s work routes passed the preschool, but Zhao Zhilan’s factory had more flexible hours and started later. Thus, the task of taking Bei Yao to school fell to her.

Fang Minjun, meanwhile, was dropped off by her father, Fang Xin—who taught at Chaoyang Primary School.

Bei Yao wore a small green jacket. There was no rain that day, so her hair buns remained neat.

As Fang Xin walked along, children greeted him with “Hello, Teacher Fang” at every step. Walking beside him, Fang Minjun became the center of attention.

“Wow, is that Teacher Fang’s daughter?”

“They say she looks like Chang Xue—now that I see her, it’s true!”

“Haha, she’s the ‘Little Jade Lady,’ just like Chang Xue!”

Amid the chorus of admiring chatter, Fang Minjun straightened her back and walked toward the school, unable to hide the pride of being admired at such a young age.

Bei Yao felt no envy. Fang Minjun really was beautiful, after all!

She clutched the big red apple hidden in her schoolbag, wondering how to split it with Pei Chuan later.

As Zhao Xiu had demanded, Fang Minjun was also assigned to Preschool Class 1.

Teacher Yu Qian frowned slightly.

The class already had exactly 58 students—now that Fang Minjun, a colleague’s child, had joined, where was she to sit?

When Teacher Zheng heard about this, his first thought was to have Pei Chuan sit alone.

Over the past few days, he had noticed Pei Chuan’s withdrawn nature—he refused to interact with any classmates, often lost in his own world. Moreover, Pei Chuan ignored his deskmate Bei Yao entirely. Teacher Zheng had seen Pei Chuan push Bei Yao’s arm away multiple times when she inched too close, as if he could not tolerate anyone crossing his boundaries.

In Teacher Zheng’s view, Pei Chuan was overly selfish and cold. He would never accept Bei Yao—or any deskmate.

It would be better to let him sit alone.