I had a very strict teacher in primary school. We nicknamed him Mr Harsh. Whenever a classmate saw the master coming to the classroom, he or she would give a signal. Then all of us would stop what we were doing, return to our seats, and pretend to be studying or doing our work.

The reason why we dreaded Mr Harsh was that he punished a “wrongdoer” harshly. It did not mean that the teacher would physically abuse him or her. Instead, he had the culprit sit down and copy a very long article. The copying, which could last for hours, felt more painful than a good beating.

However, one winter, I saw a tender man in Mr Harsh. It was a freezing morning. We went to the sports field to do morning gymnastics as usual. When we were working out, I found my shoelace undone. I bent down to retie it. I tried many times, but it was all in vain, because the weather was so frigid that my little hands were simply numb. Oh, I was all fingers and thumbs then. I felt hopeless.

All of a sudden, someone approached me and squatted down by my side. He had my shoelace done. When he rose, to my disbelief, I saw it was Mr Harsh the teacher. Before I could say thanks, he went away. It occurred to me that beneath his stern exterior, Mr Harsh had a soft heart.

The winter became less cold thanks to my new discovery.