DCTMOAS Chapter 12
by SuxxiThe morning self-study bell rang, and Chu Cheng reluctantly shuffled into the classroom.
His task this morning was to grade a pile of essays stacked on the file rack in the last row — assignments from a week ago. The students’ handwriting was so atrocious and their phrasing so indecipherable that Chu Cheng had kept putting it off until now.
He had grown up surrounded by the scent of ink and books, never imagining that someone could write Chinese characters this horrendously. But after becoming a Chinese teacher, he gradually came to realize the vast diversity in the world.
Running on barely any sleep, Chu Cheng was already drowsy. Now, his mood had soured even more. He ruffled his freshly washed black hair into an even messier state and sighed as he graded, the irritation practically written all over his face.
Yu Siting happened to glance up and noticed the guy in the back row already questioning his life. He slowly walked over to check. “What’s wrong?”
“Just look at these essays. They’re like 360-degree anti-peep screens,” Chu Cheng said, randomly picking a few of the worst offenders to show him.
Yu Siting took them, went silent for a moment trying to decipher the nearly illegible writing, then furrowed his brow. With a swift motion, he slapped the essay papers onto the student’s desk.
“Did your trash bin come with encryption?”
His brutally sarcastic comment made the nearby students burst into laughter.
“Don’t laugh at others when you’re just as bad. What is all this garbage?” Yu Siting walked down the aisle handing back papers while chastising them.
Now that he had backup from the homeroom teacher, Chu Cheng seized the moment to plead for some basic rights: “Guys, the life of a Chinese teacher matters too. Your handwriting is so messy, it’s the kind that gets marks automatically deducted.”
“You don’t need to negotiate with them. If they don’t pick up a pen, it won’t stick,” Yu Siting said as his sharp eyes swept toward the window-side row. “Where’s the Chinese class rep?”
Han Rui quickly looked up. “Here!”
“This noon or evening, go to the bookstore by the school gate and pick up a set of copybooks to hand out. Put the cost on my tab. From now on, collect them every week — I’ll personally check them.”
Han Rui glanced at Chu Cheng and replied in a gentle voice, “Okay~”
A low pressure filled the classroom — even the sound of flipping pages seemed to quiet down.
“Ridiculous,” Yu Siting said with a cold expression, scolding again as he walked back to the podium.
Lu Yan glanced at his back, then leaned toward Chu Cheng and whispered, “Congratulations, Mr. Chu. You’re gradually mastering the essence of managing a class.”
Chu Cheng was puzzled. “What do you mean?”
Lu Yan grinned and continued, “Every teacher who teaches Class 7 knows to say one thing: ‘Don’t make me go tell your Big Bro.’”
His tone and inflection were spot on — the imitation so vivid that Chu Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. He lowered his head, still smiling, and began fiddling with his phone.
A WeChat message popped up. His mentor had just sent a notice in the subject group chat.
[In ten minutes, all Chinese teachers gather in the lecture hall for a short meeting.]
“At this hour? What could the meeting be about?” Chu Cheng murmured to himself.
But Lu Yan seemed to know something. In a leisurely tone, he said, “Probably about the study tour.”
“Huh?” Chu Cheng turned to look at him.
Lu Yan explained, “It’s a tradition at Tenth High. Before May Day, National Day, and New Year’s, there’s always a study tour. Each time a different subject leads, and it just happens to be Chinese this time.”
“Seriously? How do you know more than I do?” Chu Cheng was half-skeptical as he grabbed his notebook and pen and exited through the back door to attend the meeting.
As it turned out, Lu Yan’s intel network was indeed top-tier — he was spot on. The meeting was indeed about the upcoming Chinese subject study tour.
When Chu Cheng returned to the classroom with the confirmed news, Big Bro had just stepped onto the podium, ready to start math class.
Seeing the assistant homeroom teacher walk in, Yu Siting paused. “If you’ve got something, go ahead.”
“Yeah, they need the list urgently.” Chu Cheng smiled, apologizing for taking up his time.
“Class rep, help tally the names.” Yu Siting moved aside from the podium and casually pulled up a chair to sit next to him.
“Got it.” Lu Yan was already prepared. He pulled out a roll call sheet and quickly stepped out of his seat.
Chu Cheng opened his meeting notes and highlighted the key points: “I heard this is something you all do every year, so I won’t explain too much. This Thursday we’ll have a Chinese study tour, theme is ‘Tang Poetry and Song Lyrics: Inheriting Traditional Culture.’ It’s a one-day trip, costs 95 yuan per person, including transportation, student tickets, and lunch. Anyone interested can sign up voluntarily.”
He hadn’t even finished speaking when students were already shooting their hands up high.
According to school rules, the subject teacher leads the trip. But if more than half of a class signs up, the homeroom teacher has to go too.
So when Yu Siting saw their overwhelming enthusiasm, he clicked his tongue without even hiding his disdain: “You do this every year — don’t you ever get tired of it?”
“The destination’s different every time!”
“It’s a group outing! If you don’t go, you have to stay and do self-study at school — only an idiot would choose that!”
“Big Bro, this is a once-in-a-lifetime Chinese study tour!”
The students all started chattering noisily.
By tradition, English study tours involved museum explanations or speaking corners, while math and physics usually meant competitions — events tailor-made for the top students. Only the Chinese study tour involved visiting famous historical homes or literature museums — just show up with eyes open and you’d be entertained.
With no risk of being crushed by difficulty, their enthusiasm was naturally higher.
As Lu Yan recorded the names, he muttered under his breath, “Don’t listen to him — he just doesn’t want to go, so he’s trying to PUA, KPI, and FBL us.”
Yu Siting shot him a glare, his deep eyes filled with discontent. “Got a big mouth now, huh?”
“I’m just serving my classmates~” Class Rep Lu could bend and stretch as needed. In the blink of an eye, he switched to a fawning expression.
But Yu Siting wasn’t buying it. He urged him impatiently, “Hurry up with the count.”
Lu Yan quickly tallied the names he had marked and reported with a triumphant grin, “Forty-two.”
At 95 yuan per person, that was enough to buy a whole day of the Demon King Yu as their reluctant chaperone. Never mind half the class—this was practically a full turnout.
“Thanks for your enthusiastic participation,” Chu Cheng said, eyes drifting to the side. He hadn’t expected such a unanimous show of hands either. For a moment, he wasn’t sure whether to feel sorry for Big Bro, who was now being forced into extra work and a day of involuntary fun.
Yu Siting leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. His mouth twitched—he looked like he was reluctantly resigning himself to the arrangement.
Chu Cheng went on to finish explaining the details, then turned to him and said, “Mr. Yu, you can go ahead with your lesson now.”
The man, who had been silent but clearly annoyed, finally stood up. Once back at the podium, he abruptly changed his original plan. He pulled out a stack of papers from under the desk and said in a low voice, “Test.”
A chorus of groans erupted from the class.
“What?!”
“Big Bro! This is blatant revenge!”
“Bring it on! We bravely say ‘I want you!’ to this study tour!”
“Shut up. Why do you all have so much nonsense to say?” Yu Siting retorted coldly, expressionless as he began handing out the papers.
Chu Cheng suppressed a laugh and quietly slipped out of the classroom.
Honestly, the students weren’t to blame. The guy really did have a terrible personality — and didn’t even bother to hide it.
During lunch break, the Chinese department teachers gathered for a casual chat. Chu Cheng seized the chance to get advice from the others and carefully finalized the itinerary for the week’s study tour.
Knock knock—
Someone politely tapped twice on the office door. Han Rui peeked her head in and asked cautiously, “Mr. Chu, are you awake?”
“Come in,” Chu Cheng lifted his eyes and waved her over. “What’s the matter?”
Han Rui stepped inside, bowed slightly to the other teachers, and walked over to Chu Cheng’s desk, handing him a few small booklets. “Big Bro asked me to buy some copybooks this morning. I brought back a few samples and wanted you to help pick one.”
Chu Cheng flipped through them briefly. “These are all fine. The font style is just an extra—what matters first is understanding the basic structure of the characters. You need to make sure the horizontal and vertical strokes are straight.”
“Okay, then I’ll go with this basic 4,000-character one. Teacher, can I borrow your pen for a second?” Han Rui leaned over and made a note on a sticky note.
“What copybook did Class 7 choose? Let me take a look too,” a teacher who had just been chatting with them came over. Glancing at Han Rui’s note, she praised, “Wow, your class rep’s handwriting is quite impressive!”
The other teachers also chimed in with their critiques: “This style… it looks like Old Master Chu Lining’s semi-cursive script, right? It’s really well done.”
“Thank you, teacher.” Han Rui had always felt she barely scratched the surface of Master Chu’s calligraphy, nowhere near as masterful as Mr. Chu Cheng’s elegant style. She hadn’t expected her writing to be recognized, and her heart swelled with joy.
But wait—she suddenly realized something.
Master Chu Lining…
And Mr. Chu?
Not only did the two share a strikingly similar calligraphic style, but even their surnames were the same.
As Han Rui stood there dazed, the group of Chinese teachers also picked up on it.
“Is it that everyone surnamed Chu has some natural talent in calligraphy?”
Because of Master Chu’s prestigious status in the literary and calligraphy world, they all just assumed it was a coincidence worth joking about.
“I wouldn’t dare compare myself to Master Chu,” Chu Cheng replied with a faint smile, composed and unruffled, brushing off the topic.
Thursday – the day of the field study trip. The air was crisp and clear, and the sky was a flawless blue.
Students arrived at school for their usual morning self-study before boarding the buses in an orderly fashion.
“Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…” Chu Cheng stood at the bus door, carefully checking names off the list.
Rarely free from teaching duties, he dressed a bit more casually today: a relaxed T-shirt layered with a black denim jacket, fitted pants, and ankle boots that made his already long, straight legs even more eye-catching.
“Mr. Chu looks like a runaway idol. Other classes check license plates—our class checks people. His proportions are so good, I’m stunned from 800 meters away.”
“Quit the flattery. You’re the last few—hurry and get on.” Chu Cheng laughed, checked off the final names, and boarded the bus himself. “Driver, everyone’s here. We can head out.”
“Alright,” the driver replied, reminding everyone to buckle their seat belts before setting the GPS for their destination.
Only then did Chu Cheng start looking for a seat. He had a mild tendency to get motion sickness and avoided the back of the bus, so he ended up sitting next to Yu Siting.
Big Bro Yu was dressed as impeccably as ever in a premium black shirt—comfortable yet refined. He leaned against the half-open window, napping as the breeze gently tousled his soft hair.
Chu Cheng carefully took his seat, trying not to disturb the man beside him while fastening his seatbelt. But then, Yu spoke first.
“They’re not kids anymore.”
“Huh?” Chu Cheng turned to look at him, only to see Yu still resting with his eyes closed, slightly shifting his posture.
“What?” he asked again.
Yu Siting’s Adam’s apple moved slightly as he spoke. “They can handle their own stuff. Why are you running around for them? Doesn’t that exhaust you?”
His tone was like he was lamenting: Ah, new teachers still have that burning passion.
Chu Cheng couldn’t help but chuckle. “Please, every other class’s teacher is just as busy. You’re the only one playing the shepherd. If I hadn’t been standing at the bus door earlier, would you even have bothered to do roll call?”
“Capacity is 49. One seat empty in the front, three in the back. You didn’t need to count.” Yu lazily waved his fingers. He still hadn’t opened his eyes, yet somehow knew exactly where the empty seats were.
Chu Cheng licked his lips, unable to come up with a proper comeback. He muttered under his breath, “Fine, I’m just a mutt,” and decided not to bother with him anymore, turning instead to chat with the students in the back.
“Mr. Chu, can we take a photo with you?”
“Sure.”
“I want one too, me too!”
“Of course.”
“Over here too, Teacher!”
Chu Cheng was repeatedly called by the students to look at the camera. He found his first time leading a trip quite meaningful, so he simply raised his phone and took several wide-angle group selfies with everyone.
The workshop buzzed with excitement and noise—only Yu Siting remained unmoved like a mountain.
While internally complaining about how unsociable the guy was, Chu Cheng looked down to browse the photos. Suddenly, he noticed that in one picture—where the lighting and angle were just perfect—Yu Siting had his eyes open.
Instinctively, Chu Cheng turned to look, only to see the back of that silent head. That figure must have moved at some point, but had blended harmoniously into the frame.
Chu Cheng chuckled, saved the photo, then put away his phone and closed his eyes to rest.
After nearly two hours of driving, the study group arrived at the first stop of their trip: the Poetry Museum.
Because of the strict real-name reservation policy, the entrance process was quite complicated. Perhaps the deep cultural atmosphere had a subtle influence—making people feel more poetic and inspired—for while waiting outside the venue, the students started playing a poetry game called Feihualing.
Chu Cheng was happy to see this kind of atmosphere. Leaning on the queue railing, he joked with the students, “Looks like you all aren’t as bad at Chinese as our ‘big bro’ says.”
A student laughed and replied, “Mr. Chu, you really don’t expect much from us. At the very least, we’ve memorized some of the Three Hundred Tang Poems.”
Chu Cheng raised an eyebrow. “That confident?”
Such a short question instantly sparked the students’ competitive spirit. Someone immediately suggested, “Why don’t you test us with a prompt?”
“But it’s not fun without a reward. We’ll probably be in line for a while. If we get it right, can we go to that shop over there and buy milk tea?”
Quite a few students were interested, and once the idea of a reward was brought up, many of them crowded around Chu Cheng.
“Big bro, can we?” someone from the crowd called out to Yu Siting. The class advisor, leaning nearby, lazily responded, “This is up to the teacher in charge.”
“Alright.” Since it was a student-initiated challenge, there was no reason to refuse. Chu Cheng readily agreed. “But words like wind, flower, snow, and moon—or spring, summer, autumn, and winter—are too easy for you guys. What kind of prompt should I give?”
He stood in thought for a moment. When he looked up, he happened to notice phoenix carvings on the surrounding buildings and instantly got an idea. “Let’s go with the word phoenix. It can be a poem, a lyric, or a verse—as long as it’s seven characters long, it counts.”
“Deal!” The students were fired up. Even before the rules were fully explained, some were already eager to start.
Seeing how agreeable he was, Yu Siting, who had been looking down at his phone, couldn’t help but mutter a warning: “Don’t let too many of them run off. It’ll be hard to round them up later.”
Chu Cheng found that reasonable and quickly added more rules. “Hold on! Since you’re all pro-level players, it shouldn’t be too much if I ban three lines first, right?”
“There’s a ban too?” The students nearby were already about to say their answers, but upon hearing this, they could only laugh in frustration. “Hurry up and ban them, then!”
“Listen carefully now” Chu Cheng’s enunciation was crisp, his voice gentle and clear like a breeze brushing past the ear. “On Phoenix Terrace, the phoenixes once danced;
Now the birds are gone, the terrace remains, and the river flows on.
Jade shatters on Kunlun Mountain, and the phoenix cries;
Lotuses weep with dew, while orchids smile in bloom.
As for the last—”
“Wings we lack, like a colored phoenix pair; yet our hearts are linked, as if we are one” Yu Siting finished without hesitation.
Nice!
Chu Cheng gave an internal nod of approval at the perfect sync.
“Wow, you two just banned all the classics in the syllabus.”
“You call that the syllabus? I haven’t even heard some of those!”
“We’re doomed. My mind’s gone blank.”
The students gradually realized things had escalated out of hand and began to protest loudly.
“Wait, I know one.” Amidst the growing noise, Lu Yan remained calm. After a few seconds of silent contemplation, he slowly raised his hand. “O Phoenix, O Phoenix, return to your home. Don’t roam the world in search of a mate. It’s not a strict regulated verse, but it’s still seven characters per line, right?”
Chu Cheng hadn’t expected this line to be the first one thought of. Holding firm to his promise, he made a fair judgment. “Quoting Sima Xiangru—clearly a fan of traditional operas. Alright, your milk tea is secured.”
With that strong example, the others’ minds started opening up.
Han Rui was next to raise her hand and recite, “Parrot pecks leftover rice from fragrant fields, old phoenix rests on green paulownia limbs.”
“Beautiful—Du Fu, the Sage of Poetry” Chu Cheng praised sincerely.
Then came a soft, composed voice from the class monitor of Class 7, the school beauty and talented scholar, Xu Wanwan: “Huan Tan could not forget the western smile, not even for the Phoenix Pool in Chang’an.”
Chu Cheng gave an approving wave. “Wen Tingyun, founding poet of the Huajian school. Next!”
“Whoa, impressive.” Admiring whispers rippled through the crowd.
Amid the commotion, a student took the chance to recite, “A parrot-carved cup, wine cradling drifting green leaves,
While the phoenix-flute sings, and plum blossoms fall like tears..”
“Luo Binwang’s poetry is excellent, but using Baidu doesn’t count,” Chu Cheng said sharply, calling it out with eagle-eyed fairness. “One last spot left. You’re on your own now.”
“Huh? Last one already?”
“Wait, how did those three pass? I lagged!”
Though the students were anxious, no one could come up with a line right away.
Chu Cheng waited a moment. Seeing no volunteers, he decided to wrap things up himself. “No more takers? Then sorry, folks, guess I win. Here I go—In the old nest, still carrying mud—mmmph!”
Before he could finish, several students lunged forward and covered his mouth in unison. “Stop! Pros aren’t allowed to compete!”
“Thought we said it’s every man for himself—can’t take the heat?” Amid a tangle of hands pulling and holding him back, Chu Cheng still fought back rebelliously, yelling, “Fly up to the branches and become a phoenix! Lu Yan, grab me an iced latte!”
He could’ve easily recited a poem no one had heard of and ended this segment gracefully. But no—he just had to make enemies. Quoting a well-known line so casually was, in the eyes of the students, a subtle form of humiliation.
“Hahahaha, you guys can’t come up with anything and won’t even let others speak? I want my coffee…”
“No coffee for you!!”
“Mr. Chu, don’t even think about it.”
“Even if the Jade Emperor himself showed up today, no one is getting on that branch!”
Drawn by the laughter, Yu Siting looked up. From the corner of his eye, he saw a refined, handsome figure being swarmed by students, gradually swallowed up by the cheerful crowd.
The noise around him was endless, yet it somehow sounded joyful.
—————-
Author’s Note:
Yu Siting: I thought they hired a vice homeroom teacher. Turns out he’s the one causing the most chaos in class.
Chu Cheng: Slurp. (Happily bought himself an iced coffee and took a satisfied sip.)