DCTMOAS Chapter 41

It had been over four months since Chu Cheng last came home. After dinner, he spent time catching up, goofing around, and exchanging life updates with his long-lost friends. It was quite late by the time he saw the guests off.

After a full day of travel, hosting his old friends, and unpacking his luggage, Chu Cheng was utterly exhausted. He took a quick shower, changed into his pajamas, and headed straight to bed.

He hadn’t slept in his own bed for ages, and that night, he slept exceptionally well. When he opened his eyes again, bright sunlight was already trickling down the treetops and spilling onto the window ledge.

His phone screen showed 9:45 AM. Now that’s what a proper, natural wake-up time should feel like.

His parents had always maintained a strict, regular routine for meals and rest. At home, the kitchen was closed outside designated mealtimes. But since Chu Cheng was a habitual late sleeper, he never managed to catch breakfast.

After getting up and washing up, he changed into a comfortable home shirt and long pants. Then he headed to the main hall to find something to snack on while waiting for lunch.

“Mom,” Chu Cheng greeted Professor Jin, who was quietly reading by the window.

“Mhm.” Professor Jin sat in a soft chair, basking in the warm sunlight, immersed in her study of a poetry anthology.

Chu Cheng made a beeline for the side table where snacks were laid out.

In the intricately woven bamboo basket sat still-warm multi-layered meat pies, chestnut-lotus pastries, sunni’efen white cakes, and all kinds of traditional Beijing-style confections. Whenever Chu Cheng was home, the kitchen staff would prepare extra snacks, afraid he’d miss a proper meal.

“Mmm~ this sticky rice cake is delicious, but kind of a choking hazard,” Chu Cheng said as he picked up the glass teapot, poured himself a cup of barley tea to wash down the rich pastry, and exaggerated the sipping sounds just to make his presence known.

Annoyed by this little stunt, Professor Jin finally spared him a bit of attention: “Wandering around as soon as you’re awake. You’ve been away for so long, even the snacks at home taste new to you now?”

“Exactly. One semester gone in the blink of an eye—still, home is the most comfortable place,” Chu Cheng said, perhaps a bit too flattering. After all, when he was away, he enjoyed the freedom just as much.

“Save the sweet talk,” Professor Jin said with a slight smile, flipping a page of her book. “Your father’s back—he’s in the study. If you’ve got nothing else to do, go keep him company for some morning tea.”

Chu Cheng finished swallowing the pastry in his mouth before standing up and replying, “Yes, ma’am.”

His father’s study was also in the main house, just a few steps away from the front hall. The sliding door, in a soft walnut-tone modern Chinese style, was open, and from outside, he could see the elegant, scholarly interior.

Chu Cheng knocked politely on the doorframe. “Dad.”

The man inside, bent over his desk, looked up and smiled. “Come in.”

Chu Lining didn’t look at all like someone in his sixties. His hair had hardly gone gray, and he didn’t grow a beard. His clean-shaven face carried a gentle, wise look, and his eyes were bright and full of life. His every movement was calm and composed—one glance and you could tell he was emotionally steady, refined, and deeply knowledgeable.

At that moment, the study was filled with the soft tendrils of backflow incense, the thin, mist-like smoke drifting gently in the air with the soothing scent of pinecones. On the desk lay his latest handwritten manuscript. Despite the digital age, he still occasionally wrote by hand—both to create and to practice his calligraphy.

“Did you come back yesterday?” Father Chu was preparing to boil water. He liked to drink tea at this hour, believing that the fragrance helped to calm and clear the mind.

“Yes, yesterday afternoon. You weren’t home at the time,” Chu Cheng replied, stepping forward to help, washing the teaware as he casually asked about his father’s trip.

The two of them chatted idly about unimportant things—light conversation to pass the time. That was, until his father asked with a purposeful tone, “Is there nothing you’d like to tell me?”

“You mean about work?” Chu Cheng thought for a moment. “Everything’s going well at school.”

Usually, whenever Professor Jin called to check in on him, she’d share his updates with his father too, so there wasn’t much left unsaid.

Father Chu calmly corrected him, “I’m asking about your health.”

Chu Cheng froze mid-tea-making.

Wasn’t it agreed I’d be the one to explain? This was obviously Professor Jin snitching on him already. Now completely caught off guard, all the careful setups and excuses he’d prepared were useless.

“Ah…” Chu Cheng mumbled guiltily, “My health’s… still okay.”

Mr. Chu knew his son wouldn’t be able to explain things properly right away, so he didn’t press him—his tone remained calm and kind. “I know you didn’t want to trouble us by having us run around worrying, but something like this… you should’ve said something. Your mother’s biggest concern every day is you. And then she finds out her own brother and son teamed up to hide things from her—how could she not be angry?”

Chu Cheng kept his head down, using a pair of small bamboo tongs to poke at the tea cake.

“Don’t mess with that—it’s already crumbling,” Mr. Chu stopped his son’s destructive hand and continued, “You’re a teacher now, a role model. Don’t you teach your students basic principles—like don’t speak recklessly, don’t lie, and don’t deceive your parents?”

“…I do.”
Chu Cheng listened to the lecture while pulling his hand away from the tea table, only to start fidgeting again out of sight. He plucked a leaf from the tea cake and dropped it into the ornamental water feature beside him, watching it spin in the little waterfall.

Although Mr. Chu couldn’t see exactly what his son was up to, he knew full well the kid wasn’t paying attention. He sighed inwardly in resignation. Already working full-time and supposed to be setting an example—and still acting like a child. Even the way he zones out hasn’t changed.

“Have you apologized to her?” Chu Lining asked.

Chu Cheng replied quietly, “I have.”

“Go again later,” Mr. Chu said. “Be sincere this time. Promise you won’t do it again, so she can feel reassured. Otherwise, she’s going to keep worrying and second-guessing everything.”

Chu Cheng nodded, his attitude unchanged. “Mm.”

Mr. Chu added casually, “And go bring me my discipline ruler.”

Chu Cheng responded absentmindedly, “Okay.”

“…” The study went completely silent for two seconds.

Several beats later, Chu Cheng finally snapped out of it. “Huh?! What did you just say?”

Discipline ruler?

He stared in stunned disbelief at the shelf behind his father—sure enough, there it was: a dark, polished rosewood ruler made from small-leaf red sandalwood, glinting ominously under the light. Hanging from its end was a translucent white jade pendant.

He couldn’t even remember when that ruler had first been designated for him—just that when he was younger, it had always loomed like a threat whenever he acted out, told lies, or caused trouble.

His father rarely actually used it—except that one time that even made it into one of his books.

Back then, Chu Cheng had destroyed a precious sheet of music and even cut the strings of his mother’s beloved zither. Mr. Chu had been furious and gave him a few hard smacks. Chu Cheng vaguely remembered crying, not because of the pain, but out of shock and regret. His father had spent ages coaxing him afterward.

After Chu Cheng entered high school, the ruler had been left untouched—except for dusting during cleaning. And now his father suddenly wanted to bring it back?

“…Dad, I’m an adult,” Chu Cheng said, incredulous.

“Bring it here.” Mr. Chu’s expression was calm and unhurried. He didn’t seem to be joking.

Chu Cheng had no choice. Knees stiff, he stood up and slowly went to retrieve it.

With his head slightly lowered and both arms extended, he presented the ruler to his father. Just a simple strip of sandalwood, yet in that moment it felt impossibly heavy in his hands.

Before Mr. Chu even said a word, Chu Cheng’s pale face had already turned pink. His fingertips fidgeted against the small engraved character “Chu” on the back of the ruler.

Every tiny movement was caught by Mr. Chu’s keen eyes. He gently stroked the paperweight on his desk, a quiet smile playing on his lips, unseen by his son.

Raising kids isn’t just fun when they’re little. Even when they’re grown up, teasing them still has its charms.
Just asking him to bring it over made the boy so awkward—if he really went and gave him a couple of swats, Chu Cheng would probably want to crawl into a wall crack.

Too bad now that the kid’s grown, and Mr. Chu wanted to respect his privacy, he hadn’t kept a journal of his son’s daily life for a long time. Otherwise, wouldn’t this be gold for material again?

“Being a teacher means setting a good example. When you officially started working, I was thinking of letting you keep this ruler—as a symbolic gesture marking your transition into adulthood. But from the way you’re acting now… I think I’ll hold onto it a bit longer. Who knows, I might still need it someday.”

“I wasn’t being reckless~”

The father and son stared each other down for a good half-minute. Mr. Chu, unwilling to let his son suffer with his arms sore, finally said in a leisurely tone, “This time, your punishment is to wipe it clean yourself and put it back where it belongs.”

“Dad…” Chu Cheng finally realized he had been played. “How could you be like this?”

“Xiao Cheng, I heard you were sick while I was away at a conference. Just imagining you lying in a hospital bed after general anesthesia, unable to move or eat… Do you know how many nights I couldn’t sleep because of that?”

Father Chu never raised his voice. His tone was always that same gentle warmth—a father who felt both proud of his dutiful, considerate child, and yet also deeply pained that the moment his son left home, he learned to hide things, only sharing good news while keeping the bad to himself.

The emotions that had been piling up in his heart were far too complex. In the end, he chose to express them through a small joke—just enough to make the “culprit” uncomfortable for half a minute.

Chu Cheng felt both frustrated and helpless. He set down the ruler with a bitter smile. “It was my fault for making you worry. You should drink your tea now.”

He poured two cups of hot tea. But as he lifted his cup to hand it over, his father stopped him.

Mr. Chu said, “No need to sit with me. You don’t even like this kind of tea. You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Be careful—green tea on an empty stomach will upset your gut.”

“Okay, then I’ll head out.” Chu Cheng was just about to get up when he noticed his father making another move out of the corner of his eye. He paused and waited patiently.

Sure enough, the old man continued, “Your mother mentioned this morning that since you started working, you’ve been looked after quite a bit by a senior colleague. He even helped a lot while you were ill, and his home is also in Beijing.”

Chu Cheng replied, “Yes.”

“She said his parents live overseas long-term, and only his two older sisters are here. We’ve prepared a few thank-you gifts, but it might not be appropriate for us to deliver them in person. Find a time to bring them over for us.”

This must have come up during one of Professor Jin’s chats with Teacher Yu. He probably didn’t expect that everything would be remembered so attentively.

“Isn’t this a bit too formal?” Chu Cheng hesitated, thinking about his relationship with Yu Siting—it had always been light and easygoing.

Mr. Chu, holding his teacup, smiled gently. “What I’m expressing thanks for is the care he showed my wife and son while in Tingzhou. It’s only proper to handle this with courtesy.

As for the rest—whether you approve of his character, whether you want to continue interacting with him, whether he’ll ever be invited to our home—that’s your private social life. I won’t interfere.”

“Mm.” After a moment’s hesitation, Chu Cheng agreed. “I’ll give him a heads-up first.”

Mr. Chu nodded. “Go on.”

Chu Cheng straightened up, gave his father a respectful nod, and left the tea room.

He returned to his room, picked up his phone, and took his time thinking about how to word the message properly—explaining everything clearly. Only then did he send it to Teacher Yu.

A moment later, he received a reply.

[Of course, you’re welcome anytime.]

Bearing his father’s request in mind, Chu Cheng wanted to confirm the visit date promptly and typed:

[Would tomorrow evening work for you? If so, please send me the address.]

Yu Siting sent over his location directly, along with another message:

[I happen to be going out shopping tomorrow—if you need, I can come pick you up.]

[Chu Cheng: No need to trouble yourself, let’s just meet at the mall.]

[Yu Siting: Alright.]

After reading the message, Chu Cheng put down his phone and lay back on the bed.

He had chosen the mall for their meeting because he wanted to pick out a few more gifts to add to the ones his father had prepared—especially to thank the nutritionist who had made soup for him during his recovery.

As for what exactly to get for the lady, he figured he’d ask Teacher Yu for advice.

While pondering the next day’s errands, Chu Cheng suddenly felt something hard under his back. He reached down and discovered he had accidentally brought that ruler from the study without realizing it.

The moment he remembered the earlier embarrassment, the thing seemed even more of an eyesore. Frowning, Chu Cheng acted on impulse and casually tossed it toward the sofa.

—————

Author’s Note:

Yu Siting: So the person who made you soup gets a gift… does that mean I can have your exclusive discipline ruler?