His secret
On a May evening, the rain seemed to suddenly come to its senses and stopped at 1:30 pm.
The moisture hadn't completely dissipated, but sunlight streamed through the gaps in the clouds, making the water droplets on the branches and leaves sparkle. The air carried a refreshing coolness and a hint of the sweetness of fresh grass.
He finished class earlier than usual today. He walked along the road outside the school towards the parking lot, a route that overlapped with that night a few weeks ago.
He had initially thought it was insignificant, but during his defense this morning, he suddenly realized that the little things in life always leave a mark.
In the morning, Panqiu arrived at the meeting room early and placed six cups of coffee in the center of the table.
A row of smiling little foxes adorned the paper cups, adding a touch of lightness to the air.
When he pushed the door open, he was carrying the same coffee.
My gaze lingered for a moment between the row of paper cups on the table and the one in my hand, and a feeling welled up inside me—
Like some trivial little secret that was suddenly revealed.
A few weeks ago, he shouldn't have taken that road, but because he was worried that she would go home too late alone, he casually said "on the way" and accompanied her to the entrance of a coffee shop called Little Fox.
"
After that, he made it a habit to park his car in that area and buy a cup of coffee while he was there.
Over time, even the fox's smiling face took on a strangely friendly quality.
He did not deliberately hide it, nor did he feel there was anything wrong with it.
But when I saw the paper cups in my hand lined up on the table today, a strange sense of unease crept over me—
It's as if a quiet little corner of life has been unintentionally touched.
"It seems we're thinking the same thing."
He spoke softly, a barely perceptible smile playing on his lips.
Pan Qiu looked up, her eyes lighting up, and replied with a smile, "Great minds think alike."
At that moment, he took a sip of coffee and quietly put away the little secret in his heart that didn't need to be spoken.
But during the same defense, another moment gave him a completely different feeling.
When answering the question, Pan Qiu smiled and said:
“When I encounter difficulties, the English in my head sounds like my mentor, while the Chinese in my head sounds like my mother.”
A burst of lighthearted laughter immediately filled the conference room.
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, a barely suppressed smile playing on his lips.
After a moment, Pan Qiu added:
“I trust both voices – one keeps me grounded academically, and the other keeps me from losing my emotional balance.”
In that instant, a warm surge of emotion welled up in his heart.
Over the years, he had grown accustomed to students viewing their mentors as gatekeepers of research, or even as demanding judges.
Yet very few people can so naturally associate a mentor's voice with "trust".
It's a kind of trust that's close to everyday life and carries a sense of kinship.
She juxtaposed him and her mother as the two voices within her own heart.
This was unexpected and deeply moving for him.
From a psychological perspective, he immediately thought of the concept of "internalized other"—
In our internal dialogues, we often incorporate the voices of important others.
These voices form a framework for self-regulation, guiding us to make decisions in difficult situations.
Pan Qiu's answer was not just a casual remark, but a vivid example:
She has internalized both her mother's care and her mentor's academic guidance as the fulcrum for self-regulation.
From his own perspective, he also realized at that moment that...
This is precisely why he chose to stay in academia.
Scientific research results are certainly important.
But it can leave a mark of trust in the hearts of students.
Let her hear a steady and reliable voice when she is feeling lost.
This is the most priceless reward for a teacher.
A complex feeling vaguely arose in his heart:
It is both a psychologist's keen observation of phenomena,
It also reflects the surprise and tenderness an individual feels when "placed into someone else's heart".
He knew that this feeling of being needed would be his support for a long time to come.
Near the end of his defense, he gave a very brief comment:
"A good story."
His tone was light, and he used only three words, but it was the most accurate and unreserved affirmation he could think of.
Two weeks ago, on that night, she was like someone who unexpectedly intruded into his exhausting schedule.
He remembered her anxiety and unease at the time, so he casually offered a reminder:
"Tell the story, not the details."
That was just a brief suggestion based on his experience, and he wasn't sure if she would understand.
But today, she not only listened, but also took it to the extreme.
Her entire speech flowed smoothly and naturally, like telling a story.
As the listener followed the narrative, they finally nodded in realization: "So that's how it is."
This kind of effortless mastery cannot be fully taught through techniques.
Rather, it is talent resulting from the combination of passion and hard work.
He knew very well that so-called talent was nothing more than sustained passion.
And the focus to turn interest into concrete action.
Just like in that interview, she was taking notes densely on a piece of paper while asking questions.
That kind of complete concentration is a rare strength in itself.
Today, during her qualifying exam, he saw that power again.
As a mentor, he secretly felt very lucky.
To meet a student who absorbs knowledge like a sponge and burns like a flame is truly wonderful.
To make my casual suggestion, given so casually, return to him in this way two weeks later.
This is not a reward that every student will bring.
So when he softly uttered that phrase, "A good story..."
There's a sense of effortless satisfaction deep inside:
He knew he hadn't misjudged the person.
And above all these memories lies an even deeper imprint—the interview report.
It was an assignment for a course—Panqiu invited him to be the interviewee.
Later, she completed a report, which the substitute teacher found interesting and forwarded to him.
He even suggested with a smile: "Perhaps we could consider recruiting her as a doctoral student."
He initially viewed it from the perspective of a professor.
She distilled fragments of his life into a sketch-like essence:
Why study psychology? How to deal with silence? How to maintain appropriate boundaries in other people's stories?
Her writing possesses both academic sharpness and a delicate warmth.
This was the first time he realized how his students perceived him.
What truly made his heart tremble was a picture at the end of the report—a tree.
The branches are simple, and the colors are gentle. She didn't explain its meaning; perhaps it was just a casual touch.
But he recognized it at a glance—it was Rowan.
Rowan is his middle name.
If someone else had drawn the Rowan tree, he probably wouldn't have thought much of it and would have just treated it as an ordinary symbol.
But its appearance in this report makes all the difference.
This report sketches him from beginning to end by describing his interviews.
Therefore, this painting is no longer just a coincidental pattern.
It seems like a response that arises naturally from her understanding and writing.
He knew very well that Pan Qiu did not know that Rowan was his middle name.
It's even less likely that they would know it symbolizes "protection".
But it is precisely because of this "ignorance" that the trees in the painting seem more like an unintentional overlap.
It was as if I had quietly touched a corner that no one had ever noticed before.
But as time went by, that sketch gradually changed in his mind.
When he first read the report last semester, he simply found it interesting.
The student's writing was meticulous and sincere, and the tree at the end unexpectedly echoed the theme of "protection" and "witnessing" throughout the piece.
But looking back now, after a semester together,
The image, however, appears to have had its colors intensified.
Her dedication, her seriousness,
Let this coincidence be magnified little by little.
It became a kind of warmth and touch that is indescribable and impossible to ignore.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com