Chapter 5

Timothy woke up to find Zachary by the coffee machine.

"Up so early? That's rare," Timothy remarked.

Zachary replied, "I'll go back to sleep after coffee."

"You stayed up all night gaming?" Timothy walked forward and took Zachary's coffee. "Stop drinking it and go get some rest."

Zachary grabbed another cup and asked, "Are you heading to class again?"

Timothy said, "What do you mean again? I have classes every day."

Zachary, disinterested in classes, took a few sips of coffee and started teasing him. "So, how's Mr. C?"

"What about him?" Timothy asked.

"Oh, come on, don't play dumb. How's the chat going? Did he send any photos or videos? Is he handsome?"

Timothy said, "Not that quickly. He seems pretty composed."

Zachary scoffed. "Well, he's quite a bit older. Of course, he's composed. But what's the use of being composed? You're looking for a partner, not a father. What's his job?"

Timothy replied, "I didn't ask. I didn't want to pry into his private matters. Anyway, I need to check my emails. You should get some sleep."

After refreshing his inbox several times, Timothy found Professor White still had not replied. Timothy had no choice but to head to college, as he had told Cycle the previous day, to plead in person.

As he biked to school, he could not help but notice every man in a suit. The route between their homes was only 4.8 kilometers, and it was possible to see someone dressed in a suit during the morning rush.

After spotting a few, Timothy remembered that Cycle's profile picture was taken in a car, and Cycle likely drove to work. It might be better to focus on getting to the classroom and waiting for the professor.

The robotics class was at 8:15 a.m. in classroom S17. Timothy arrived at S17 by 7:45 a.m., but the room was empty.

By 8:02 a.m., Xander arrived, sat beside him, and asked, "Did the professor get back to you?"

Timothy shook his head.

Xander felt a pang of sympathy for Timothy, thinking he was probably unlucky.

Timothy grew anxious by 8:10 a.m., with the classroom nearly full and the professor still absent. He figured he might not get a chance to speak with the professor before class started, so he said to Xander, "Excuse me, I'm going out for a smoke."

Xander glanced at the classroom clock and said, "Hurry up."

Timothy dashed to the building entrance, stood by the trash can, lit a cigarette, and watched his phone. When the time hit 8:14 a.m., he stubbed the cigarette on the stone and raced back to the classroom.

The door to the classroom was closed.

Timothy grabbed the handle and pushed it open, only to encounter resistance. He had bumped into someone.

He quickly pulled the door back and apologized in German.

The two seconds after the bump felt longer than it was. Timothy first saw the person's back. He noticed the man's polished shoes, the hem of his gray dress pants, the straight pant legs, the suit jacket with a slight taper at the waist, broad shoulders, and a light blue shirt collar peeking out from under the gray suit jacket. The hair at the back of the neck was neatly trimmed, and a metallic chain hung below the glasses frame.

The person wore frameless glasses; the lenses obscured his eyes. Above the glasses, the eyebrows extended cleanly to the temples. The bridge of his nose was prominent, and his lips were slightly lighter in color. He had no stubble. The jawline gave a refined impression.

He looked American. He also looked mature—maybe abstinent and unapproachable.

Timothy stared at the man and instinctively apologized. "Sorry."

A wave of friendly laughter filled the classroom.

That person looked down at Timothy, smiled, and humorously said in German, "I thought I'd always be the last one to class."

More laughter erupted.

Timothy quickly looked down and returned to his seat, realizing his palms were sweaty.

Xander whispered, "You didn't recognize that was the professor, did you?"

"Of course not! That would be really dumb," Timothy said casually, twisting his pen. Inside, he thought, 'Damn, how did I not realize that was the professor?'

Timothy took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves and looked at the podium.

After welcoming the class, Professor White started writing and lecturing.

Before meeting Professor White, Timothy had imagined the class would be dull, with the professor being stern and unengaged and the students only there for credits. Unexpectedly, Professor White was quite engaging.

First, he spoke in standard German at a moderate pace, highlighting key points. Second, he wrote and spoke simultaneously, with key points easily visible on the board and perfect diagrams to illustrate his points. Lastly, he paid attention to students' reactions, discussed examples with them, and joked around.

The more Timothy listened, he thought, 'This professor isn't so bad after all. Things may be fine if I talk to him after class.'

"I feel like this course isn't as terrifying as I've heard. I understand most of it, and with some practice later, I should be able to pass," Timothy said in a low voice to Xander.

Xander replied, "You think he'll just teach you simple stuff like one plus one equals two and then test you on two plus two? He'll teach you one plus one equals two and then test you on 58,467 times 169,324."

Timothy was puzzled. "Really?"

Xander said, "Last time, I said I didn't get all the notes, and you thought I couldn't copy the board? The board is just the framework; you need to understand the framework to grasp the details. But the professor never directly tests the framework."

Timothy said, "So, I'll understand the details then."

Xander said, "He doesn't test the details either. He tests the fine points, the tiny gaps, everything you haven't reviewed."

Professor White glanced over at that moment, causing Xander to immediately shut up and focus on his notes.

Timothy grew anxious again.

At 9:40 a.m., with five minutes left in the class, Professor White washed his hands, took out the roll call sheet, and began calling names.

Most students in the classroom were German, but there were also many international students. Unlike many professors, Professor White pronounced the international names according to their native phonetics. He would ask the student to teach him the pronunciation if he was unsure.

Timothy waited until the professor had called all the names and announced the end of the class. His name was never called.

Everyone packed up and started leaving the classroom. Professor White finished answering a couple of students' questions and was packing up his lecture notes.

Xander asked, "What are you going to do?"

Timothy looked at the professor at the podium and said, "You go ahead."

Xander, sympathetically, said, "Viel Glück." It meant good luck in German.

Timothy responded absently with a hum.

As Xander left, Timothy saw he was the only one in the room with Professor White. Timothy quickly shouldered his bag as the professor exited the classroom and rushed after him, calling out, "Professor."

Professor White stopped and waited by the door.

Timothy approached, nervously saying in German, "Professor, you didn't call my name during the roll call."

Professor White asked, "What's your name?"

Timothy replied, "Timothy Snow."

Professor White said, "Okay. Timothy, you were absent from the first class on Monday."

Timothy said, "Yes, I was ill. I sent you an email."

Professor White looked at Timothy over his glasses and said, "I believe you received my reply as well."

Timothy felt a wave of pressure.

The professor did not give him a chance to plead his case.

His graduation would be delayed if he had to retake the course next year. Part of Timothy's funds came from savings during his undergraduate years and partly from working in Germany.

With his student visa, he could only work 20 hours a week legally, and the earnings did not cover all his expenses. The main issue with delaying graduation was that by the next visa extension, his bank account might not have enough to meet the study guarantee, jeopardizing his visa status.

In just a few seconds, Timothy had calculated a life-or-death equation. If he had to retake, he would get deported.

Timothy swallowed hard, looking up at Professor White, and said hesitantly, "You said the reason for my retake was if I missed the first class, it meant I wouldn't be able to understand the subsequent classes. But I think I understand today's class."

Professor White listened patiently to Timothy and said, "Then please explain your understanding of today's class." He made a start gesture with his hand.

"Today, this class…" Timothy's mind went blank.

He had thought pleading would be straightforward, but he found himself facing an unexpected mid-term exam. He could not come up with an answer without any time to review.

Professor White waited for a minute before asking, "Timothy?"

"I…" Timothy stammered, uttering a few professional terms, but could not come up with a coherent understanding of the class.

Nervous and flustered, he could not even recall the key points of that day's lecture, his mind a jumble of concepts in two languages. He struggled but could not provide a suitable answer.

"Sorry…" Timothy lowered his head, unable to meet Professor White's eyes.

Professor White said, "Regarding your second email, I believe we've already answered that."

He heard footsteps receding.

Timothy was left standing alone.

He did not blame the professor for being harsh; he blamed himself for being incapable.

He stood there for a long time before slowly going to the café. He had not had breakfast yet. Arriving at the café and seeing the sausages, pork chops, steaks, and bread, he realized he had no appetite. So, he bought a cup of coffee and sat on the grass outside, basking in the sun.

Breaking up with Leonardo had not been that painful.

Accepting his own incompetence was probably the hardest thing, more painful than a lover leaving, external rejection, or lack of support.

The heat of the sun rays made him feel dizzy. Yet, amidst that dizziness, Timothy's mind uncontrollably pondered how to answer the professor's question.

That was how his mind worked. Long after the exam time passed, it stubbornly continued to try to answer questions rendered useless.

Suddenly, Timothy's phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking his train of thought. He pulled out his phone and saw a message notification.

[Distance: 7 people have just swiped on you. See who they are!]

Timothy was not interested in who those seven people were. He suddenly thought about Cycle. Had Cycle ever gone through something like that in college? Or was it just him being useless?

He opened Distance and sent Cycle a voice message.

"Are you at work? If you don't have time, don't worry about replying. Today… Ugh, why am I so useless? I can't even say a few words right… The professor even gave me a chance…"

After sending the message, Timothy stared at Cycle's profile picture and suddenly noticed their distance. They were only 506 meters apart—only 506 meters! The distance between him and Cycle was measured in meters, not kilometers.

Timothy felt a sudden jolt of shock. He immediately stood up and looked around at the surrounding academic buildings, laboratories, library, cafeteria, plaza, and green spaces.

Cycle was nearby. Cycle was on his campus.