DCTMOAS Chapter 38
by Suxxi“What’s wrong? You don’t look like someone who came here willingly to learn and observe a meeting. More like someone who got roped in at the last minute.”
Teacher Zhong noticed Chu Cheng seemed a bit absent-minded while sitting on the sofa. He put down his phone, tossed away the pear core, and struck up conversation again: “You and Yu Siting are managing the same class, right? Tell me, how does he usually exploit you?”
Chu Cheng set down the tangerine he’d been fiddling with for a while and replied properly, “Not at all. Teacher Yu takes good care of me. He’s taught me a lot—let me walk a smooth road paved by those before me.”
Teacher Zhong chuckled at that. “Hey, you’re a clever one, already know how to give credit where it’s due. Even if Yu Siting does have tricks for squeezing the juniors, chances are he learned them from me, am I right?”
Chu Cheng smiled but didn’t say more.
Teacher Zhong glanced toward the far end of the sofa. Of course, he understood the anxiety young teachers often had about performance. When every other subject in the class excels—except the one you teach—it’s hard for anyone not to feel the pressure.
“Even though I’m no longer at No.10 High, I still know a bit about that class of his. There was even a student strike that reached the district office. You’re teaching Chinese—it’s normal to feel pressure.”
Chu Cheng nodded. “Yes, but that happened before I graduated. I don’t know much about it.”
Teacher Zhong casually stretched his back and sighed.
“Being a teacher nowadays isn’t like it used to be. The expectations on young people in education are getting higher and higher. You’ve just graduated, and suddenly you’re supposed to be a role model, both in teaching and character. You’re still kids yourselves, not fully grown emotionally—and yet you’re thrown into this. That’s why so many new teachers get depressed as soon as they start, or become disillusioned the moment they step into a school. The visitors’ room downstairs sees countless newbies every year—just landed the job, and already asking for a transfer or quitting.”
Chu Cheng paused, quietly listening. He’d never considered that—after all, quitting meant there was no more talk of retirement.
“Even that group earlier—don’t be fooled by their bright eyes and cheerful chatter. Who hasn’t gone through a period of confusion? Everyone has. No exceptions.” Teacher Zhong rummaged again through the bag his disciple brought, picked out another piece of fruit, and added, “Yu Siting too, of course.”
Chu Cheng looked up. “Well, you’ve known Teacher Yu a lot longer than I have. You must’ve seen him at his greenest.”
“Green? That guy? He showed up on his first day of work in a two-million-yuan Range Rover.”
Teacher Zhong let out a dry laugh, thinking to himself: Hey, I didn’t bring this up on purpose—it’s just that this young Chu fellow seems way too interested in Yu Siting. Still, that guy’s story made for good teaching material.
Chu Cheng joked, “So working in education really can’t make you rich, huh?”
Teacher Yu was already loaded before he even started.
Teacher Zhong chuckled and sighed but didn’t pursue the topic.
Chu Cheng wanted to hear more, so he followed up: “Then in your impression… did Teacher Yu, five years ago, already have that same calm and cold demeanor?”
“It’s been more than five years. When we first met at No. 10 High School, he was only 20. He didn’t have a teaching post yet—just got sent there for an internship before graduating from his bachelor’s program.”
Teacher Zhong reminisced about those days. Back then, every teaching office in the school would be crammed with two such interns. They didn’t have fixed classes or specific duties. They just clocked in and out on time, helped their mentors grade papers, and filled out their internship handbooks.
“At first, I didn’t take him under my wing. But he sat right next to my desk every day, hammering away at his graduation thesis on a top-of-the-line laptop. I still remember the title—something like ‘On the Application of Task-Based Teaching in Middle School Math Classes’. What a mess.”
The thesis mainly described how, through some kind of classroom experiment, students with the same aptitude were split into test and control groups, and somehow valid data came out of that…
Now, thinking back, Teacher Zhong couldn’t help but squint as if the memory pained him.
“Teaching’s not that easy,” he muttered.
“Mine was just as bad when I graduated,” Chu Cheng chuckled, easily picturing what someone like Teacher Yu—hands-on, allergic to wordy nonsense—must’ve been like wrestling with an academic paper.
Teacher Zhong continued, “But hey, I had no business criticizing him. His family was rich, he had that cold face, and a sharp tongue—you could just tell he wasn’t someone who’d swallow his pride. It felt like he’d descended into the mortal world just to ‘experience life.’ Honestly, the fact that he managed to act politely around us regular folks was already impressive.”
Sitting on the sofa, Chu Cheng shifted position slightly. “So how did he end up under your mentorship?”
“Well, the teacher originally supervising Yu Siting was still pretty young. One day, that guy was busy with something and asked Yu to prep a practice class—basically just draft up answer sheets and highlight tricky problems with a quick explanation, so the actual teacher could skim it and understand.”
Chu Cheng blinked. “That doesn’t sound like easy work. Different people have different ways of solving problems.”
Copying someone else’s prep work like that? Might as well just let Yu teach the class himself.
“But he didn’t mind at all—just said ‘okay’ and went for it. We only found out that afternoon that he’d written everything using pure calculus, with huge leaps in logic—stuff that would make even a grad student pause. The best part was when he coolly asked, ‘Was my answer wrong?’ The supervising teacher was so mad, their nose almost went crooked.”
Even though Teacher Zhong had just threatened on WeChat to drag his student’s reputation through the mud, truth be told—this was pretty much the only real dirt he had on him.
“He was that bold?” Chu Cheng sat up, impressed.
Clearly, even in his rookie days, the guy was already boss-level.
“As for why he ended up with me, you can probably guess—his original mentor didn’t want to deal with him anymore. But I was head of the math department at the time, so I couldn’t just wash my hands of it. I had to sit him down and talk. I remember trying to be really sincere, telling him that lesson planning is an essential skill for a teacher. Sure, you can solve problems with calculus, but you can’t exactly teach it to high school students that way, can you?”
Chu Cheng was curious. “What did he say?”
“He didn’t really offer any opinion. But his attitude was decent—he actually had a proper conversation with me.”
It was during that chat that Teacher Zhong finally learned: Yu Siting came from a competitive academic background, excelling in both math and physics. His brain just worked a few laps faster than most people’s.
They never really figured out why that guy chose to attend a teacher-training college in the first place, but one thing was clear: up to that point, he had zero intention of becoming a teacher.
“And then?” asked Chu Cheng.
“Later, when his internship ended, he needed his mentor to write an evaluation in his handbook. He came directly to me. I honestly can’t remember exactly what kind of praise I wrote down back then, but I still remember the few things I said to him in person.”
Teacher Zhong shifted into a more comfortable position and began to speak leisurely.
“I told him that being a teacher is a matter of conscience. It’s far from as simple as writing an academic paper. Even if you can breeze through a tough set of college entrance exam problems in half an hour, even if you can recite competition questions backward, if you keep acting so detached and unwilling to connect with your students emotionally, it just won’t work. In this profession, there are only two kinds of people: those who pour their heart into education, burning themselves out like a candle or a silkworm spinning till death; and those who treat it simply as a means of making a living—letting go of the savior complex, respecting others’ paths, and doing the job with a clear conscience. If you can’t humble yourself, and since you come from a privileged background and don’t need this job to survive, then honestly, there’s no need for you to throw yourself into it.”
“So back then, you thought he just wasn’t suited to be a teacher,” Chu Cheng said gently with a sigh.
“Exactly. I really thought I’d never see him again. But to my surprise, those words had the opposite effect. A few years later, he came back.” Teacher Zhong still sounded incredulous.
Yu Siting not only went on to pursue a master’s in education but also officially joined No. 10 High School as a full-time staff member.
Chu Cheng was surprised too. “From what you said, Mr. Yu didn’t seem to be good at teaching in the beginning. Did things change after grad school?”
“They did. I had recommended he take charge of a competition class, but he refused. He was willing to wait for a regular teaching assignment just so he could teach a standard math class. He’s got a proud personality, but he’s also incredibly flexible when it counts.”
At this point, Teacher Zhong’s tone shifted—no longer teasing, but filled with admiration and respect.
“In his first semester, Yu Siting only taught one class. The rest of his time, he spent observing other teachers. Some classrooms didn’t even have enough seats, so that nearly 1.9-meter-tall guy would bring a little stool and sit by the cleaning supplies. Every single teacher at No. 10 back then—including the one he’d once clashed with—was approached by him for advice.”
“That was probably his most frustrating yet most endearing phase. He had two favorite phrases he kept saying all the time: ‘How can they still not get this?’ and ‘Didn’t I just explain that?’”
Too real.
Chu Cheng couldn’t help but smile wryly—wasn’t that exactly what he himself was going through now?
Teacher Zhong continued: “Yu Siting’s biggest strength is that he has a sharp eye. He doesn’t miss anyone’s strengths or weaknesses. His ability to learn and self-correct is outstanding, and combined with his already solid knowledge base, it only took him one semester to raise the average math score of his regular science class by 15 points.”
“After I was seconded elsewhere, he went on to coach the competition class, become a homeroom teacher, and even led the teaching research group. That’s when I realized—what he really loves isn’t math itself, but the process of encountering problems and constantly figuring out how to solve them, just like in math.”
Whenever Teacher Zhong talked about the protégé he’d mentored from the start, he couldn’t help but sigh with emotion.
Yu Siting was a kind of professional he’d never met before—a third type: someone for whom there’s no such thing as ‘can’t do,’ only ‘won’t do.’ He was completely in control of his own work.
Chu Cheng had originally been hoping to hear some juicy blackmail material about his sharp-tongued senior, but instead, he found himself slipping into silence.
Every step Yu Siting had taken was steady and deliberate, with a clear logic behind it.
He was just too damn good.
By evening, the annual work summary meeting at the bureau had ended.
The guests gradually dispersed. After exchanging a few polite words with acquaintances, Yu Siting left the conference room and headed back to pick up Chu Cheng.
He knocked on the office door and saw that the two people inside had already emptied a whole pot of tea and left the table littered with roasted chestnut shells.
Yu Siting looked at his assistant class teacher. “Looks like you were really bored waiting for me.”
Teacher Zhong casually grabbed the trash bin and smiled, “That was all me.”
Chu Cheng tilted his head up from the sofa. “Finished with the meeting? Are you guys still doing the question-setters’ debrief?”
Yu Siting shook his head. “Can’t—too many people absent.”
“Then you and your mentor finally have time to chat.” Chu Cheng scooted over a bit, offering up the now-warm section of the sofa.
“Talk? With him? There’s Nothing to talk about.” Teacher Zhong waved a hand dismissively, brushing the chestnut crumbs off the coffee table, and grabbed his coat.
“Wife and kids waiting at home. She’s just cooked crucian carp soup and sweet-and-sour pork ribs. It’s Friday night—anyone who’s not a lonely, homeless youngster like you two would be rushing home right now.”
Before leaving, he even grabbed the leftover fruit bag. “These pears are good—I’ll take them home for your teacher’s wife to try. Off the clock, off the clock!”
“Should we go too?” Chu Cheng asked, turning to Yu Siting, who gave a small nod.
The two of them said their goodbyes to Teacher Zhong and headed out together.
Somehow, without them noticing, the sky had already grown dark. A crescent moon quietly crept into the night.
Chu Cheng shivered from the cold and quickly bundled himself up before diving into Yu Siting’s car.
The parking lot was still packed. Yu Siting’s SUV was parked with barely any space on either side. He carefully checked the mirrors and adjusted the wheel as he backed out. Suddenly, he caught Chu Cheng staring at him in his peripheral vision.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Chu Cheng smiled, voicing the thought that had hit him when the wind pierced through him a moment ago:
“I didn’t eat enough at lunch. I’m starving now and craving a hot bowl of tonkotsu ramen. You’ve been around this area longer—got any recommendations?”
Yu Siting thought for a second. “I think I saw a ramen shop near the night market last time I passed by. It looked pretty busy—probably decent.”
“Wanna go try it together then? My treat.” Chu Cheng offered.
“You’re buying me dinner?” Yu Siting raised an eyebrow with a faint smirk. “Today’s the 25th, right?”
Chu Cheng didn’t catch the reference. “Yeah? You got something to do?”
“Nope.” Yu Siting finally reversed out of the lot, turned onto the wide road, and chuckled lowly.
“Just want to check if my paycheck came in yet.”
Chu Cheng: “……”
He felt like he was being teased—but he had no solid proof.
“Fine, go if you want. I’ll just go home and order takeout.” Teacher Chu rolled his eyes, flopped into the seat with a dramatic whump, and leaned back against the soft cushion, turning his head away and giving Yu Siting the back of his skull.
Yu Siting glanced sideways at him, then manually set the navigation to the night market and coaxed him with a chuckle:
“We’re going, we’re going—I’m already driving.”
Author’s Note:
Chu Cheng (jotting it all down in his notebook): The number of times big bro has wronged me: N + 10086 + 3.1415926
Yu Siting (forget the notebook, let’s hold a press conference): Spread the word—I finally got a meal out of Teacher Chu.