DCTMOAS Chapter 45

“Hello, your visitor has arrived.”

An attendant knocked on the door and ushered Yu Siting in. Today, he was dressed casually yet polished — a light gray knit sweater layered under a jacket, black trousers accentuating his long, well-shaped legs.

What greeted him inside was a picture-perfect ‘teacher and student in harmony’ scene. Yu Siting took in this studious tableau, and his sharp brows twitched slightly.

Lu Yan held up his notebook and pen, looking up at him with a big, bright grin. “Uncle, you’re here!”

Chu Cheng saw him and moved to close his book.

Yu Siting slipped his hands into his pockets and tilted his chin. “No need — you can read a bit longer. I was going to wait in the car outside, but I was afraid you two weren’t done yet.”

Seeing his uncle’s face looking calm and unreadable, Lu Yan quickly said, “We’re basically done. I’ll go get dressed?”

“No rush.” Yu Siting glanced around the room, then asked Lu Yan, “You must be tired from studying, right?”

He reached out with his long, well-shaped fingers and pressed the service bell by the bed.

The speaker crackled to life: “Hello, guest room service desk — how can we help you?”

Yu Siting glanced at the list of available services and seemed dissatisfied. He asked, “Do you have a professional TCM bone-setting massage?”

“Yes, we do! Would you like to try it?”

“Yes. Please send someone up now.”

“Of course — one moment, we’ll have a therapist at your room shortly.”

After the call ended, Yu Siting sat down next to Chu Cheng on the bed. When he lowered his head slightly, he caught sight of Chu Cheng’s fair, slender calves peeking out from under the sauna robe.

Chu Cheng subtly shifted, making room. “Teacher Yu, your joints are sore too?”

“Mm. It’s an itch.” Yu Siting replied blandly.

What?

Chu Cheng blinked at him, baffled.

Soon, the door knocked again, and another young female therapist came in. She looked kind and gentle, glancing at the three of them. “Excuse me — which guest will be having the bone-setting massage?”

Yu Siting tipped his chin toward Lu Yan. “Him.”

Lu Yan rubbed his nose, dread creeping in.

“On your stomach — go on.” Yu Siting’s voice was mild as he gestured, then turned to Chu Cheng. “Planning on hotpot tonight?”

Chu Cheng nodded. “Yeah — though it was Lu Yan’s idea first, I haven’t had Beijing-style mutton hotpot in ages. You should come too, Teacher Yu.”

Yu Siting pulled out his phone. “Sure. Which place? This season and time of day, you’ll never get a seat without a reservation.”

“I happen to know a legit, low-key spot — usually you don’t need to wait.” Chu Cheng leaned over to help search for it on the app. He was about to ask Lu Yan for his opinion when he heard a stifled groan nearby.

“Hiss — ow — sister, lighter please…”

“This treatment does cause a bit of pain, but you’ll feel much better afterward — it adjusts your alignment and relieves fatigue. Try to relax, I promise I won’t hurt you,” the therapist explained kindly as she twisted his arm back again.

The force in her hands didn’t match her sweet face at all. Lu Yan couldn’t handle the intense ache and slapped the massage mat in protest.

“I’m not even using my full strength yet — if I did…”

Whatever gentle suggestion she was about to offer was cut off by Yu Siting’s mild interjection:

“It’s fine. Keep going.”

“Ah-ha, ah—!” Lu Yan clutched the bedsheet, yelping uncontrollably from the pain.

Chu Cheng finally understood who Yu Siting’s earlier “itchy skin” comment was about, and narrowed his eyes in sympathy. “His voice is shaking — poor kid just wanted a shoulder rub and some hotpot, and look how his uncle’s treating him.”

“Is that how he spun it for you?” Yu Siting let out a soft laugh, picked up a strawberry from the fruit plate, popped it into his mouth unhurriedly, then turned to Lu Yan.

“One moment you’re craving Cantonese, then it’s Western, then you whine about the pastry chef not making good pea cakes. Your aunt spoils you rotten — didn’t she just hire three new chefs for the old house? Where are they?”

Lu Yan looked like he’d been tortured to near collapse. He opened his mouth weakly: “At home… playing cards…”

Yu Siting asked again, “And what about the ten sets of math papers I left you last week? I haven’t seen a single one.”

Lu Yan gritted his teeth. “I’ll do them when we get back.”

No wonder this kid was always getting disciplined — he really did ask for it.

Chu Cheng, for once, couldn’t find any excuse to defend him. He just sipped at his now-melted snow-top coffee, the straw making a slurping noise.

“I’m done — no more, I surrender…” Lu Yan lasted another half a minute under the therapist’s hands before he truly felt his body could bear no more pain.

“Seems like he really can’t handle it.” Yu Siting tossed the strawberry stem into the trash can and looked up at the therapist. “Thanks for your work. That’s enough for today — charge it as normal, and please handle our checkout too.”

The therapist agreed readily and left the room, clearly pleased with an easy client.

“I’m going to return this book and pop by the bathroom.” Chu Cheng adjusted the collar of his bathrobe and got up.

Yu Siting nodded. “Alright.”

The room fell quiet for a few minutes.

Lu Yan lay sprawled on the bed, motionless, his whole soul drifting out of his battered body. After a while, he finally lifted his flushed face and croaked, “I’m telling on you.”

“Won’t work. You’re still under my watch, holiday or not.” Yu Siting stood and gave his nephew a firm smack on the back. “Get changed — time to eat.”

“How can you be so ungrateful?” The boy grumbled, dragging himself up to roll his shoulders, his voice trailing off into a mutter, “I was trying to be your wingman, you know…”

Yu Siting’s handsome face barely twitched, his voice icy. “I’ve told you plenty of times — stop following your aunt’s crooked schemes. Take care of yourself. Do you really think I’d need to rely on a kid barely out of middle school for that?”

Lu Yan glanced at him and muttered under his breath, “Doesn’t seem like you’re making much progress though…”

“Don’t forget you still owe me those papers.” Yu Siting wasn’t in the mood to argue; he reminded him what really mattered. “I didn’t push you before, but if I ask for them now and you can’t deliver, trust me — you’ll be howling louder tonight than you did just now.”

Lu Yan was about to bargain when he spotted Chu Cheng coming back down the hallway. He immediately ditched his uncle, running over with a forced grin to change the subject. “Teacher Chu! Where’s that hotpot place you recommended again? Do they have sesame sauce and flash-boiled tripe?”

Yu Siting watched his nephew’s shameless back and was so exasperated he almost laughed. This kid was trouble from head to toe — but at least he’d gotten one thing right: this time, he’d picked the right person to have in his corner.

---

After dinner, just as the forecast had promised, snow began to fall, drifting down in soft, fluttering flakes.

Since the hotpot place was on the way, Yu Siting first dropped Lu Yan back at the Yu family home — he still had a mountain of worksheets waiting — before driving Chu Cheng in the opposite direction toward the Chu family house.

With Lunar New Year only days away, the streets were already decked out in full holiday spirit. The drifting snow, softly illuminated under the warm glow of red lanterns, looked elegant and dreamlike. The fresh layer of white brightened the entire road.

“Teacher Chu.”

“Mm?”

Chu Cheng had been resting his chin in his hand, quietly admiring the snowy night through the car window, until Yu Siting finally spoke up.

Yu Siting explained that he’d received the gift that Mr. Chu had prepared for him earlier but hadn’t had a chance to properly thank him. Now that the New Year was coming, he wanted to return the favor with a proper visit.

He asked, “If I wanted to come by to pay my respects, would it be better to visit before or after the holiday?”

“No need for that.” Chu Cheng answered without hesitation.

“My dad only prepared that gift for you in the first place to say thanks — if you return the favor with another gift, then won’t this just go on forever?” Chu Cheng said plainly. “Besides, the old man’s getting on in years — these days he rarely hosts new visitors. But he and Professor Jin do keep in touch quite a bit. During the New Year, when even I feel like escaping for some peace and quiet, I’d advise you not to get mixed up in that.”

Yu Siting thought that sounded perfectly reasonable. He mulled it over for a moment, then spoke up again. “But last time I ran into Professor Jin, I mentioned I’d drop by. It wouldn’t feel right to just let that hang unfinished.”

Chu Cheng pulled his gaze back from the drifting snow outside the window and turned his head slightly, taking in Yu Siting’s serious profile as he focused on driving. “Well, then it depends on what sort of reception you want.”

“There’s a difference?” Yu Siting asked, genuinely amused.

“Of course there is,” Chu Cheng said with a faint smile. “One way is: I’ll make an appointment with the old man, you show up with your gift, and it’s all formal. He and Professor Jin will receive you in the main hall, and I’ll be on the side pouring tea and serving snacks — I might even politely say, ‘Please have some tea.’”

Yu Siting raised his eyebrows slightly, clearly not too thrilled about that stiff, ceremonial scenario.

Chu Cheng caught the look and chuckled, continuing, “Or — you just call or text me in advance. If you happen to run into the old couple when you come in, I’ll just briefly introduce you as a friend, you say a quick hello, and then follow me straight to my room.”

Yu Siting kept one ear on him, one hand calmly turning the wheel, while the corner of his mouth curved up.

Chu Cheng asked with a teasing lift of his chin, “So… you’d prefer that?”

Yu Siting gave a soft laugh. “Do you even need to ask?”

The two exchanged a glance and a smile, quietly drawing a line under that topic.

Tonight’s snowfall neither quickened nor slowed — it remained gentle and silent the whole time. As soon as the flakes on the ground melted a little, a new layer drifted down, covering the earth in delicate white once again.

When Yu Siting’s car rolled to a stop outside the narrow lane leading to the Chu family’s courtyard, the two happened to be talking about how there was no need to be overly strict with Lu Yan — kids that age were bound to have a bit of an edge, to be mischievous and playful, that was normal.

“I’m home. Thank you, Mr. Yu,” Chu Cheng said, breaking off mid-sentence. He unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped out of the car, and stood in the soft curtain of falling snow.

Yu Siting was just about to give him a wave through the car window —

But Chu Cheng caught the door just before it closed, leaning down slightly with a gentle smile. “Why don’t you come in tonight?”

He went on, “You’ve already come here twice — I can’t just keep letting you drop me off and drive away. Find a place to park and come in for a bit.”

Yu Siting considered it for all of one second under the quiet snow — then, unable to refuse such warm sincerity, he nodded his agreement.

The courtyard was deep and tranquil. In the Chu family’s carefully tended traditional Chinese garden, warm lanterns glowed here and there. The bright, spotless windows cast soft light across the falling snow, lending the whole silent night a uniquely elegant atmosphere.

The two of them strolled through the front courtyard corridor and stepped into the main house. Professor Jin was seated in the hall with an air of quiet dignity.

Chu Cheng lowered his head and brushed off the snowflakes that had landed on his fringe, calling out softly, “Mom.”

“You’re back?” Professor Jin Shuqi looked up and caught sight of another figure trailing behind her son.

Yu Siting greeted politely, “Hello, Professor Jin.”

Professor Jin smiled in reply. “Ah, Teacher Yu, you’re here.”

“Yeah, we just had dinner together, so I invited him to come in for a bit,” Chu Cheng naturally picked up the conversation. Remembering the unfamiliar car he’d seen parked outside, he asked, “Do we have guests?”

Professor Jin nodded. “An old friend came by to see your father — they’re talking in the study. No need for you to join them. Just take care of your own guest.”

“Got it.” Chu Cheng answered with an easy smile, then turned back and called softly to Teacher Yu, raising an eyebrow in invitation. “Come on.”

Chu Cheng’s room was in the east wing of the courtyard residence. Inside, it was a modern suite-style design — spacious, open, with the living area, study, and bedroom flowing naturally from one into the next, so large it couldn’t be taken in at a single glance.

“Make yourself comfortable — sit wherever you like, look around if you want. I’ll be right back.” He led his friend inside, took off his coat and casually hung it aside, then turned to head out again.

“Okay.” Yu Siting stayed behind quietly, taking the chance to look around.

Although this guy shared a tiny two-bedroom rental with others back in Tingzhou and often joked about being a hermit crab who loved to hole up in cramped spaces, here in his family’s home he had a massive open study — easily a hundred square meters or more.

The walls were lined with six-meter-high bookshelves fitted with ladders, crammed with all sorts of books, neatly categorized and meticulously arranged.

Yu Siting let his fingers brush over two clearly old rows of books — Commentary and Subcommentary on the Book of Songs, Commentary and Subcommentary on Zuo’s Tradition, Collected Poems of Lu Fangweng, Lyrics of Nalan Xingde… These must have been what he copied out by hand to practice calligraphy as a child. Even after all these years, the books were still well-preserved, with signs of occasional tidying up.

A few steps farther in, the style of books changed completely — classic and modern novels from China and abroad, a huge collection of manga volumes, even artbooks from online games. The genres were so wildly mixed that they gave no single clue about the owner’s personality or tastes — and yet the sheer breadth hinted at a mind open and willing to embrace anything.

Soon enough, Yu Siting’s attention was caught by a photo frame tucked into an empty spot on a shelf.

In the picture, Chu Cheng looked about four or five years old — so tiny, but his handsome features were already strikingly distinguished. Around his slender neck hung a jumble of ten or twenty medals, all at once. Yet despite the trophies, the child’s expression was heartbreakingly pitiful — his dark, glistening eyes brimming with grievance, with not a trace of joy to be seen.

When Yu Siting had once read the old man’s biography by chance, he’d actually tried to picture what Chu Cheng might have looked like as a child — but he’d never imagined him this candid and adorable. He carefully picked up the photo frame and studied it.

“Teacher Yu, are you like some kind of black-history excavator? This whole room is full of my shining achievements, yet you zero in on the most embarrassing one.” Accompanied by the creak of the door, Chu Cheng came back in carrying a plate of freshly washed fruit.

“Isn’t this achievement enough?” Yu Siting turned around, shaking the photo at him. “You’re practically buried under medals, can’t even stand up straight.”

Chu Cheng let out a helpless laugh. “Look closer — I wasn’t even in school yet back then. Not a single one of those medals was mine.”

If you looked carefully, you could indeed faintly make out that the names on the medals were slightly different — some two characters, some three.

Yu Siting raised an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued. “How’s that possible?”

Chu Cheng set the fruit plate down within Yu Siting’s reach, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint, slightly bitter smile. “You might not believe it, but I was never that so-called model child people brag about.”

To explain the photo, he had no choice but to bring up that stretch of childhood that could only be described as pretty miserable. Back in a time before the term ‘chicken baby’^[1] even existed, the outwardly glamorous young master Chu was already a living witness to life’s inequalities.

“When I was little, my parents’ circle was full of old friends and colleagues. Everyone in that neighborhood was either a professor here or a master there — and all their kids were outrageously brilliant. I was the youngest, and always at the bottom. When the adults were busy, they’d tell their kids to take me along to play.”

Even now, Chu Cheng could still recall sitting in the audience of a violin recital at four years old, waiting for the neighbor’s older sister to finish performing so she could come pick him up; at five, being taught physics experiments by an entire national physics team; at six, being dragged to watch a speech competition conducted entirely in French, and the next day being hauled off by Shao Ji to watch a professional Go qualifying match.

“I basically got hit by every dimensionality reduction attack possible in that elite gladiator pit — I could never keep up with my older ‘brothers’ at all. Plus, back then, I barely ever saw ordinary kids my age, so I had no concept of what ‘normal IQ’ even was. I always thought I was an idiot. That photo’s from that time — a pretty accurate snapshot of my life as a little errand boy for all those geniuses.”

Even the reason for that little frown was so endearing. Yu Siting chuckled, and gently ran his fingertip across the child’s slightly furrowed brows in the photo. “So when did you finally figure out the truth?”

“When I started elementary school, obviously.” Chu Cheng casually picked up a mandarin orange and handed a few segments to Yu Siting. “That’s when I realized I wasn’t dead last — I was actually kinda okay, even had a bit of ordinary cleverness. So I skipped two grades in a row, started to cut loose and do whatever I wanted — tried a bit of everything, but never really stuck to any one thing.”

“Mm, that suits your personality.” Yu Siting settled onto the sofa, raised the fruit in thanks for the hospitality, then slowly peeled it. “Actually, I’ve always wondered — how did someone like you grow up in the strict, disciplined household of two teachers…”

He trailed off, momentarily at a loss for the right word.

“A brat? Maybe I’m a genetic mutation.” Chu Cheng chuckled, glancing toward a painting propped on the corner of his desk. “Even though my parents were always open-minded, their professions, their education, the environment they lived in — those things inevitably meant they’d have extra rules sometimes. But I was lucky. Back then, there was someone else in the house who was like my shield.”

Yu Siting followed his gaze. He could already guess who had painted that piece — Chu Cheng’s maternal grandfather, Jin Zhaoqü, the late grandmaster of traditional bird-and-flower painting, and the very one who had given this little sunbeam his name.

Chucheng said, “He raised my mother and my uncle, and then passed that same philosophy on to them and to me. Raising children is not about continuing anyone’s life — it’s about teaching them to live a life that’s wholly their own, filled with love.”

Yu Siting comfortingly patted the shoulder of the person in front of him. He finally understood who had shaped Chucheng’s clear and steadfast views on education.

He had to admit, no matter how rebellious this little sun might be, in the end he still found the path that suited him best. After all, only a child raised in love knows how to love others in return.

—————-

Author’s Note:

That night, Teacher Chu offered two choices: “A formal betrothal in the main hall” or “a clandestine tryst in the boudoir.”

Big Brother: I just made the kind of mistake any man might make.