DCTMOAS Chapter 13

After a long wait, Class 7 students were finally allowed to line up and enter the venue.

The Poetry Museum was too large to guide everyone through it at once. After passing through security, Chu Cheng set a meeting time and then dismissed the group for free exploration.

The students happily scattered, though some of the closer-knit ones didn’t want to wander alone and chose to follow their lively vice homeroom teacher instead.

Chu Cheng led the way, offering explanations as they went. He wouldn’t claim to be an expert in classical Chinese culture, but having been steeped in it from a young age, many customs and habits were already deeply rooted in him.

From the finger-tapping etiquette during tea ceremonies to the philosophy behind Go matches, he explained patiently and demonstrated personally. Whether it was paper, ink, brushes, printing techniques, or literary masters and poetry, he could talk eloquently about anything they asked.

Despite his casual outfit with a hint of wild flair, the gentle look on his face paired perfectly with the lingering fragrance of tea during their brewing demonstrations—elegant and effortless.

“Like Master Lin Qingxuan said, when drinking light wine, you should read Li Qingzhao; for sweet wine, Liu Yong; and for strong spirits, nothing better than a bold recitation of Su Shi. Reading Xin Qiji, Lu You, Li Yu, or Tao Yuanming and Li Bai all has its own flavor and occasion.”

Chu Cheng leaned casually against the railing, his gentle voice breathing life into the cultural relics resting quietly behind glass.

“Whether it’s raising a cup in the breeze, brewing tea while reciting poetry, walking on snow under the moonlight, or sending embroidered letters through the clouds, our ancestors preserved a meticulous elegance in the tiniest aspects of daily life. That’s what made time so gentle—every inch of it.”

The students were moved by the museum’s rich and distant cultural displays and exclaimed sincerely, “So this is the legendary Chinese-style romance, huh?”

“Maybe,” Chu Cheng smiled. “But I think ‘romance’ is inherently a Western term—‘romantique.’ I’d rather call it…”

He glanced up at the breathtaking calligraphy on the wall and offered a different interpretation, “…a uniquely Chinese, wholehearted kind of deep affection.”

At that moment, all the students’ attention was effortlessly captured. As they listened and wandered through the halls, they couldn’t help but feel a longing for that world of literary brilliance.

Yu Siting, never one for crowds, had planned to avoid the throng and stroll quietly on his own. But upon hearing Chu Cheng’s narration, he was drawn in and unconsciously began following behind his little group.

As the National Day holiday approached, the museum happened to be hosting a calligraphy and poetry-copying event. All the visiting teachers and students could participate in the activity held in the courtyard.

The weather was clear and pleasant. Fragrant incense gently wafted over rows of neatly arranged bright yellow pearwood tables, creating an atmosphere of elegant antiquity.

The students spread out, squatting or sitting cross-legged on various cushions, using soft brushes to copy down poetry.

Chu Cheng walked among the low tables, inspecting their work. He was quietly relieved that these kids all had decent handwriting. If it were those few boys who even had to encrypt their essays, the scene now would be simply unimaginable.

Yu Siting found an empty table and sat down, observing the vice homeroom teacher from a comfortable distance as he tirelessly moved about.

To be honest, he hadn’t held high hopes for this newcomer at first. Agreeing to let Chu Cheng serve as his vice homeroom teacher was mostly because of that suggestion letter.

Even though the letter wasn’t particularly well-argued, it showed that this person listened, observed, took responsibility seriously, and had the courage to speak his mind.

And now, it seemed he’d been right. With that innate gentleness and perseverance, Chu Cheng would one day become an outstanding subject teacher—perhaps even a full-fledged homeroom teacher.

As for his flaws… they were likely just like this—putting in too much effort, doing everything personally, and thereby quickly encountering emotional fatigue, potentially losing his passion for the profession too early.

Chu Cheng did another round and, seeing that the students were enjoying themselves, finally took a moment to rest.

He had been busy all morning organizing activities without a moment’s break. The instant his body touched the cushion, it was as if a nerve automatically relaxed, and he let out an involuntary sigh of comfort.

Yu Siting’s gaze naturally followed him. “Tired?”

“Yeah, more strain on the voice than giving lectures,” Chu Cheng admitted frankly, raising his hand to sip from the iced coffee that had already half-melted.

Every pearwood table had a brush stand and an inkstone placed beside it. Chu Cheng casually picked up a brush and looked toward Yu Siting. “Would you like to write, Mr. Yu?”

Yu Siting replied, “I’d rather not embarrass myself.”

It was clearly just modesty.

Anyone qualified to be a teacher wouldn’t have terrible handwriting. After all, every teacher training school these days includes skill-based assessments.

Chu Cheng’s tone carried a hint of playful grudge. “I remember the words ‘Reviewed’ that Mr. Yu once wrote—those strokes were quite vigorous.”

Although it was already autumn, the morning sun was still harsh. Chu Cheng was sitting directly under its glare, and it was a bit blinding, so he borrowed a straw hat provided by the venue and casually put it on before starting to write.

With his long legs having nowhere to go, he shifted positions, kneeling on one knee on the cushion. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing a fair wrist, dipped the brush in ink, and began writing a line of seal script characters on the rice paper.

“Well, it depends on who I’m being compared to,” Yu Siting responded to the earlier comment as he glanced in Chu Cheng’s direction.

The strokes under his brush were intricate and complex. Each one was written with care, yet appeared effortlessly graceful.

Watching his focused expression—so composed and elegant—Yu Siting couldn’t help but wonder what kind of environment he had grown up in, to be able to master even ancient seal script with such ease.

“This might be the first time I’ve ever received praise from you, even if it wasn’t exactly direct,” Chu Cheng raised his brows with a small smile, even thinking that perhaps this was part of Yu Siting’s charm—his character had a certain allure right here.

He was so used to the man’s sharp tongue that a rare compliment like this actually felt rather satisfying.

Yu Siting’s brows furrowed slightly. “Have I really been that stingy with verbal encouragement?”

Chu Cheng joked back, “Do you want me to pull out my work log right now? It’s filled with your tough love toward me.”

“No need to open the ledger so soon. You can save the tally for when you go solo and lead a class yourself,” Yu Siting replied in his usual calm tone, but the teasing undertone was unmistakable: Don’t forget, you’re still technically working under me.

A soft smile glimmered in Chu Cheng’s eyes. “No can do—there won’t be a chance. I’ll never be a homeroom teacher.”

Hearing this, Yu Siting immediately turned serious again. “Why not?”

The whole point of implementing the vice homeroom teacher system at Tenth High was to give new teachers a chance to learn and accumulate experience. If he had no intention of progressing further, then why had he voluntarily taken on this exhausting, thankless job?

…Hmm?

Chu Cheng hadn’t expected him to care about this question and paused in confusion. To him, the answer seemed obvious.

Wasn’t it because both homeroom and vice homeroom teachers got the same 800 yuan monthly stipend?

That’s what he was thinking—but it wasn’t exactly something he could declare with confidence.

Meanwhile, Yu Siting, who had been curious for a while now, leaned in slightly, wondering just what Chu Cheng had been writing this whole time. When he saw Chu Cheng pause and set down his brush, he quietly moved closer.

The densely packed lines of seal script on the rice paper were pristine and elegant. At first glance, the characters were proper and beautiful—square yet rounded, evenly weighted, with ink tones perfectly balanced.

But… something seemed off.

Looking closer…

Plop—

Chu Cheng finally noticed Yu Siting’s gaze. At some point, his eyes had landed directly on the rice paper before him. It felt as though some secret had been exposed, and Chu Cheng hurriedly tried to cover the paper—but it was far too late.

Yu Siting had already successfully deciphered his seal script.

Those were just random scribbles made out of extreme boredom—one could even call it daytime insanity literature.

He sat there upright, looking proper and serious for quite some time, yet what he had written was:
“I want to retire, I really want to retire, when can I retire, wishing myself an early retirement.”

Yu Siting: “……”

“How could you peek at someone else’s…” Chu Cheng lifted the brim of his straw hat, intending to righteously question him, but got stuck trying to describe his own output. In the end, he let out a snort and laughed.

The students around them had already finished copying their poems and were now distracted by the commotion, raising their heads one after another.

“What’s going on?”

“Mr. Chu, are you coming over to check our writing?”

“Big bro, what page did Mr. Chu copy?”

Yu Siting opened his mouth, about to speak, but before he could say anything, Chu Cheng suddenly stood up. He had been kneeling for a while and his legs had gone numb—he staggered a bit and quickly grabbed the person beside him to steady himself.

Yu Siting only felt a sudden warmth on his wrist as a slender, beautiful hand tightly held onto him.

“Don’t say anything,” Chu Cheng said, bent down and looking up at him, the smile in his eyes as vivid and dazzling as a flame.

“Mn,” Yu Siting replied with a soft grunt after two seconds of silence, agreeing to keep quiet.

As for passion for work and career planning… he had clearly overthought it.