DCTMOAS Chapter 37

Chu Cheng finished drawing the graph on the blackboard, then turned to face his students—who all looked like they were seriously questioning their eyesight.

“Mr. Yu’s throat is really in bad shape tonight, so he’s taking a short break. I’ll be stepping in to explain two sets of math papers instead. Is that okay?”

Mr. Yu was still sitting in the back of the classroom. Who in their right mind would say no?

The room was dead silent, but the collective pupil quake from the students was louder than a siren.

One piece of good news and one piece of bad news.

Good news: the Chinese teacher who was on leave has returned.
Bad news: he’s switched sides and is now teaching math.

Was this what we taught you?! All that effort helping you snatch the class back from Big Bro, and you go and pull this?

Once again, Chu Cheng read the “why are you like this” look in his students’ eyes. But since he had been slacking off and playing the hands-off vice-homeroom role all week, he now felt genuinely guilty toward Mr. Yu, who was holding the line while sick.

So this time, Chu Cheng boldly chose to betray the masses and stand in the trenches with the homeroom teacher.

“Looks like there’s some resistance, but not too much,” he clicked his tongue, ignoring the students’ eager, betrayed stares, and picked up the worksheets.

As he turned his back to them, he even recalled a self-deprecating joke: Today, I’ve finally become the kind of person I used to hate.

“Everyone got their own test paper? For the multiple choice and fill-in-the-blank, just call out the question number if something’s unclear,” Chu Cheng said, collecting himself as he chalked up the answers to the first page’s short problems in the corner of the board for them to check.

“Question 7.”

“Question 9.”

“Twelve.”

At the end of the day, Class 7 students were still very self-disciplined. Even if they were still recovering from the emotional whiplash, they got into study mode fast.

“7, 9, 12…” Chu Cheng repeated, marking with chalk. His hand hovered over the board for a few seconds. “That’s all?”

Silence. No one else raised any new questions.

Chu Cheng assumed they just didn’t trust his math-teaching skills, so he opened the heavily worked-through test paper and smiled at them: “You don’t need to worry, I prepared well for this. Don’t be shy about asking questions. Even if I mess something up, your Big Bro in the back will correct me.”

He wouldn’t claim to be able to teach a brand-new math unit, but when it came to these two review papers, he was confident.

He’d already worked through them front to back while prepping earlier in the office. Two of the knowledge points were a bit fuzzy due to how long it had been, but he had even consulted Mr. Yu on the spot to get the optimal solving method.

But as it turned out, that might’ve been completely unnecessary.

“Mr. Chu, there really aren’t any more,” said Mu Yiyang from the back row, holding up his paper. Bright red marks across the page showed a glaring 144 points.

Looking around, his deskmate Xu Wanwan had 128, and Meng Xin in the back row raised his test—139.

“Actually, 7 and 9 don’t really need to be gone over. Whoever got them wrong can just ask their deskmate when they have time,” chimed in Lu Yan from the side row.

This kid had a perfect 150 but was marked as zero because he couldn’t be bothered to write his name.

Chu Cheng was momentarily stunned.

Sure, he knew this was a strong foundation class where the average math score during the midterms was over 120—but the contrast was unreal. You guys are never this sharp during Chinese review sessions!

No wonder Big Bro had a desk piled high with test papers and didn’t seem the least bit anxious. Turns out, he could’ve dragged it out even longer.

It was just plain bullying.

“Let’s look at the question…” Chu Cheng, feeling mildly defeated, tapped the blackboard with the chalk held between his index and middle fingers.

And so, the sound of math problem explanations echoed through Class 7’s classroom.

“Hey.” Since there weren’t really any mistakes to go over, Mu Yiyang leaned back in his chair and called out to Lu Yan.

The class monitor, who was only half-listening to the lesson, lifted his head and shot him an impatient glance. “What?”

Mu Yiyang said, “Don’t you think Mr. Chu’s approach to solving this type of problem is exactly the same as Big Bro’s?”

Lu Yan found that even more pointless than he’d expected. He kept copying from his English handwriting practice sheet and replied half-heartedly, “Of course they’re alike.”

“Why though? Aren’t the ways of thinking in Chinese and Math super different? Hey, I’m talking to you!” Mu Yiyang got no response to his question. But with Big Bro looming in the back row, no one dared mess around any further.

“Go ahead and organize the steps for this problem,” Chu Cheng said after finishing a long-form question, pausing to give the students time to think.

During that break, he casually stretched his neck and happened to glance toward the office desk in the corner. There, Yu Siting was leaning back with his arms crossed, staring intently at the front of the room.

Chu Cheng suddenly felt a little self-conscious. He turned back to double-check his board work, but everything looked fine.

Sure, he’d told Mr. Yu earlier he could monitor the class, but did he really need to sit so properly… and listen so seriously?

Feeling Chu Cheng’s repeated glances, Yu Siting seemed to realize he was affecting the teacher’s flow. He quickly lowered his head and coughed lightly into a clenched fist to cover it up.

Chu Cheng walked a lap around the classroom, checking in on how the students were keeping up. By the time he looked up again, the man who had been monitoring the class had already picked up his cup and stepped out to get hot water.

At exactly 9:50 PM, the bell signaling the end of the evening self-study session for the second-year students rang.

Chu Cheng pushed it three minutes over, just enough time to finish the second test paper, and called out, “Class dismissed.”

The students visibly relaxed, packing up their things, calling out to friends, and getting ready to return to their dorms or leave the school grounds.

A few students from other classes had come early to wait outside. When they saw the blackboard covered in dense formulas and graphs—and Mr. Chu still standing beside the podium—they were visibly stunned.

“What the heck is going on in your class?”

“Did your Chinese teacher change subjects or something?”

The students of Class 7 all nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, you’re not seeing things. Today, all our math was taught by our Chinese teacher.”

As the class monitor on duty for the week, Lu Yan originally intended to clean the blackboard after class. But when he saw Chu Cheng still holding the last test paper, scrutinizing it and occasionally jotting down calculations on the board, clearly in no rush to leave, he decided to go rinse the mop first.

Compared to the two sets of questions they had just reviewed, the remaining paper was noticeably more difficult, with some tricky problems thrown in.

Chu Cheng had hit a roadblock—he tried drawing two auxiliary lines, but neither yielded the expected results.

Just as he was deep in thought, a tall figure approached, briefly casting a shadow under the overhead light.

“Your diagram’s wrong,” said Yu Siting, extending a hand with long, elegant fingers. He picked out the last piece of colored chalk from the box, and with a few strokes, made the flat geometric figure come alive.

His voice was still hoarse, low and rough: “Add the auxiliary line here, then connect it diagonally like this.”

“Oh, oh, I see it now.” With that nudge, Chu Cheng quickly caught on.

Yu Siting opened his palm. “Then keep going from there.”

Chu Cheng reached out to take the piece of colored chalk.

Yu’s hand must’ve just held a cup of hot water—the warmth still lingered in his broad palm. That subtle, lingering heat made Chu Cheng unconsciously brush his fingertip against it.

There was still a faint sweetness in the air, probably from the powdered medicine Yu had taken earlier. The scent was oddly comforting.

Lu Yan came back into the classroom with the mop. As soon as he stepped in, he saw the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder at the blackboard, working out the problem together with a single stub of chalk.

The scene instantly reminded him of what Mu Yiyang had asked during class.

Of course their problem-solving approaches were identical—this was basically hand-in-hand tutoring!

Maybe Yu Siting had a naturally strong constitution, because even that fierce early-winter flu wave didn’t do much to him. His throat was sore and swollen for three or four days, then it cleared up like nothing happened.

After covering a few evening self-study sessions for him, Chu Cheng returned to his actual job: focusing entirely on how to raise Class 7’s Chinese grades.

Before they knew it, December was almost over.

Because the Spring Festival was early that year, winter break was moved up as well, and the final exams were scheduled right after the New Year’s holiday.

As the semester drew to a close, Chu Cheng grew increasingly anxious looking at his students’ stagnant weekly test scores. Especially when he remembered the bold promise he’d made to Mr. Yu about climbing the rankings.

On Friday afternoon, well past the lunch hour, Chu Cheng finally made his way to the cafeteria.

Since his surgery, he had to avoid so many foods that he basically lost interest in eating. Most things were off-limits—he couldn’t eat this, couldn’t touch that—so his appetite had faded a lot.

He got just two light stir-fried dishes and a bowl of vegetarian soup. Holding his tray, he found a random seat and started eating while scrolling through messages on his phone.

A soft thud sounded as another tray was placed on the table.

Chu Cheng looked up—and was met with Yu Siting’s sharp, steady gaze. Yu stood there looking down at him from above, then pulled out the chair across the table and sat down.

Chu Cheng stared at him in surprise.

Yu Siting had always disliked getting food smells on himself. Ever since the beginning of the school year, the two of them had never eaten together in the cafeteria.

“Is this seat taken?” Yu asked.

Chu Cheng shook his head. “No.”

The food counters were practically out of dishes by now. Who else would come eat this late?

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Yu asked as he picked up the bamboo chopsticks and gave them a quick wipe.

“—I thought you wouldn’t stay for dinner,” Chu Cheng lowered his head, nudging at the almost oil-free vegetables with his chopsticks before stuffing a slice of wood ear mushroom into his mouth.

Yu Siting frowned slightly as he watched him pick at the food.

This man had grown visibly thinner since his discharge from the hospital, his jawline now sharp and prominent. After all these days, he hadn’t gained back even a little weight. It was hard to tell whether it was from the stress of work or simply not eating enough.

The surgery had been quite a while ago, and logically, he should’ve been able to eat meat by now. Yet his tray was still full of vegetarian dishes. Clearly, the reason wasn’t physical—it was psychological. He had something weighing on his mind, making him lose his appetite.

“This semester’s finals are a citywide joint exam,” Yu Siting began, testing the waters.

Sure enough, the moment the words “semester finals” came out, Chu Cheng’s gaze shifted from his phone to Yu Siting.

That answered it. So this was what had been bothering him.

He was the same man who used to talk all the time about retirement and living a laid-back life, yet barely out of the hospital, he’d rushed back to school. He even volunteered to use his free periods for extra student sessions, and now he was eating poorly and sleeping worse—just because he was worried about their grades.

Hating it and loving it all at once—how exactly should one evaluate a teacher like Mr. Chu?

When Chu Cheng didn’t speak again, he kept his eyes on Yu Siting.

Yu Siting continued, “This afternoon, the Education Bureau is holding the annual review meeting for the city’s directly affiliated high schools. If the teachers who wrote the joint exam questions show up, there might even be a little follow-up gathering afterward.”

Chu Cheng pushed a few grains of rice into his mouth. “Sounds like you’ve got a busy day.”

“That’s why I’m worried I might miss something. If you’re free after school, would you come with me?” Yu Siting set down his chopsticks and looked at him intently with those deep black eyes as he asked.

“The Education Bureau, huh…” Chu Cheng seemed a little intimidated by those words. He teased, “I’ve only just arrived, and they already want to put me to work? That doesn’t feel right.”

Yu Siting replied, “It’s not a school thing. I just need your help.”

“Do you really need me?” Chu Cheng asked, uncertain.

Yu Siting nodded sincerely. “Yeah.”

“You’ve got class during the last period, don’t you?” Chu Cheng finally stopped poking at the pitiful pile of green vegetables, putting down his chopsticks and wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

Yu Siting understood what he meant and said, “Wait for me at the school gate when class ends.”

At 3 p.m., the students were dismissed.

Lu Yan, having been instructed earlier by his uncle, didn’t bolt out of school like he usually did on free afternoons. Instead, he stayed behind obediently to supervise the classroom cleanup.

After Chu Cheng finished handling the class affairs, he left the building to find Yu Siting already parked and waiting at the gate. He opened the door and got into the passenger seat.

Several other cars also turned out of the school entrance—likely colleagues heading to the same meeting. But Yu Siting took a turn midway and pulled over in front of a nearby fruit shop.

“Wait for me a sec.”

Yu Siting stepped into the shop, and a moment later came out carrying several bags of fruit.

Chu Cheng suddenly got the feeling that this guy wasn’t heading to a meeting at all—he looked more like he was going to deliver gifts. Just as he was about to ask, a warm bag of candied chestnuts was shoved into his arms.

“What, you think I’m a kid? Gotta bring snacks when I leave the house?”

“For you to snack on when you get bored waiting,” Yu Siting replied as he fastened his seatbelt and drove the car back onto the road.

The meeting at the Education Bureau seemed like a major one—by the time they arrived, the courtyard was packed with parked cars from other districts. Yu Siting got out, lifting the bags with one hand, and walked into the building. Chu Cheng, unfamiliar with the place and the people, stayed close behind him.

The meeting hadn’t started yet. School administrators were the first to enter the room to sign in. The hallway was left to the younger teachers, most of whom had been sent along to help with logistics—or just to make a good showing.

Everyone was about the same age and already knew each other, so the vibe was more relaxed than Chu Cheng had expected.

“Why is it you two again? Doesn’t the Experimental High School have anyone else?”

“Careful saying that—our boss might overhear you. We’re loaded with talent at our school…” The teased teacher looked around, saw no supervisors nearby, and added with a grin, “He’s the ‘talent,’ I’m the ‘pool.’”

As they joked around, someone spotted Yu Siting approaching and greeted him with a teasing tone: “Hey, No. 10’s High are here too!”

“Ever since he stopped taking senior classes and quit doing all those motivational talks, it feels weird not seeing him around.”

“How nice,” Yu Siting replied perfunctorily, nodding slightly as he walked past them.

The teacher who’d just claimed to be the “talent” got yanked by his friend: “Did you see him even acknowledge you? Honestly. I swear I’m telling the supervisor not to bring you next time.”

“What’d I do?”

“……”

Yu Siting didn’t pause, letting the chatter fade behind him as he kept walking.

Chu Cheng glanced back. “Aren’t you going in? I think I just saw Director Yang already inside the meeting room.”

“No rush. It hasn’t started yet.” Yu Siting veered toward a quiet hallway and stopped in front of an office door. He knocked and said, “I’m here to visit someone first.”

Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, the door opened from the inside. Standing there was a man in his fifties with a kind face and a sharp, energetic presence.

“What a rare visitor,” the man said, though his tone held no surprise at all. Only when his eyes landed on Chu Cheng did he show a flicker of hesitation. “This face is new.”

“He’s here to accompany me to the meeting,” Yu Siting explained simply. “This is Mr. Zhong—he used to teach at No.10 High too.”

Chu Cheng nodded politely. “Nice to meet you.”

Because Yu Siting rarely brought anyone along, Mr. Zhong gave Chu Cheng an extra once-over before smiling and inviting him in: “Come on in and sit down.”

“He’s a bit socially anxious, so I’ll leave him here with you for a while. I’ll come back after the meeting.” Yu Siting stepped inside just far enough to set the fruit on the table, then didn’t sit down.

Mr. Zhong’s face crinkled into a warm smile. “Sure, don’t worry. It’s quiet here—no one comes by.”

Chu Cheng’s throat tightened slightly.

Why did he suddenly feel like a kid being dropped off at preschool?
Yu Siting patted his shoulder. “Then I’ll head over first.”

Chu Cheng nodded, accepting the temporary arrangement.

“Have a seat, eat some fruit.” Teacher Zhong casually opened the bag Yu Siting had brought and pushed it toward the guest, chatting naturally. “You just graduated this year?”

“Yes.” Chu Cheng sat up straight, eyes forward, not looking around.

“Knew it—you’re way too stiff.” Teacher Zhong chuckled at the sight, pulling out a pear from the bag and wiping it haphazardly with a tissue. “Look at those lively ones outside earlier—every one of them groomed by top schools, slick little things.”

Chu Cheng didn’t know any of the teachers being mentioned, so he couldn’t carry the conversation. Sitting in silence and making eye contact felt awkward, so he took the initiative to start a new topic: “I heard from Teacher Yu just now that you used to work at No.10 High School too?”

Teacher Zhong replied, “Yeah, I was transferred temporarily, but ended up staying four years. I’m nearly retired now.”

Chu Cheng asked curiously, “What subject do you teach?”

“Math.”

“Same as Teacher Yu.”

That comment slipped out of Chu Cheng’s mouth and made the older man raise an eyebrow. “Of course it’s the same. How else do you think he landed under my wing right after graduation?”

“Oh… So you’re his mentor?” Chu Cheng finally realized. No wonder Teacher Yu had brought fruit to visit.

“Hah, I like that word. You kids these days actually call it that? Never heard him say it.” Teacher Zhong sat down on the armrest of the couch to Chu Cheng’s right, took a bite of the pear, and suddenly paused as if struck by a thought. “Wait—you’re not that unlucky, are you? Don’t tell me you got assigned under his supervision?”

Chu Cheng quickly explained, “No, I teach Chinese. I’m under Teacher Yang Zhengwen from No.10.”

“Ah, Old Yang’s last disciple!” Hearing that, the other immediately made a why didn’t you say so earlier? face. Even though he’d been casual from the start, now he really relaxed. “Me and him go way back—this makes us practically family. No need to be so polite. Go on, eat some fruit.”

“Thank you.” Chu Cheng smiled politely, and under the teacher’s repeated urging, picked up a tangerine and began rolling it in his hands.

While chatting with Chu Cheng, Teacher Zhong pulled out his phone from his pocket and tapped out a message.

[What’s the meaning of this? Dropping off some random kid at my place without warning?]

The meeting must’ve been boring, because Yu Siting replied almost immediately:

[He’s been under a lot of stress lately. I brought him out to ease his mind.]

[Zhong: I knew you didn’t just bring me fruit out of kindness. But why dump Old Yang’s disciple on me?]

[Yu Siting: Teacher Yang is upright. When it comes to giving workplace BS disguised as comfort, you’re still the best. Just like when you corrupted me back in the day.]

What kind of reply was that!

[Zhong: Getting cocky now, huh? Not afraid I’ll spill all your rookie-year black history?]

Back in the other meeting room, Yu Siting glanced at the dull PPT on the screen without changing expression.

[Did I have one? At the current pace of this meeting, you’ve got about two hours left to make stuff up.]

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Author’s note:

Chu Cheng (quietly calling his big bro): Hello? Your mentor’s kinda weird. I’m scared. Come pick me up early.