AVRL 51

With Yang Zhengfeng relenting, the matter of filming the promotional video was officially settled. However, because She Shan had returned to the capital for now and wasn’t in Zewu, the project had to be pushed back a couple of days.

When Meng Chi broke the news to Yang Zile on WeChat, the kid immediately fired back more than a dozen question marks in sheer disbelief.

[Are you saying my dad agreed? He even agreed to appear on camera?]

[Yes.]

Meng Chi typed his reply: [So stop stressing about this and go study. The Gaokao is right around the corner, do you hear me?]

Hearing about studying gave Yang Zile a headache. He sent a string of ellipses, followed by a scoffing “Tsk,” and a line: [Looks like you’re his real son. When I talk to him, he scolds me; when you talk to him, he agrees.]

Looking at this sour grapes response, Meng Chi couldn’t help but laugh helplessly.

[What nonsense are you talking about?]

[You know better than anyone that your dad is all bark and no bite. The more you clash with him, the more he’ll oppose you.]

After all, every time they quarreled, it was because neither of them would yield an inch. Realizing he was also in the wrong for speaking so rudely, Yang Zile felt a surge of self-reproach and guilt. He fell silent for several minutes before finally replying: [I’m coming home for dinner tomorrow night to apologize to him.]

Meng Chi smiled: [That’s more like it.]

Locking his phone, Meng Chi stepped out of the breakroom and immediately spotted Song Min in the teahouse’s main hall. Song Min was sitting at the tea table near the courtyard. Seeing Meng Chi come out, his lowered brow suddenly perked up, and he called out, “Meng Lao… Brother Meng.”

Perhaps because the shift in form of address was so stiff, Meng Chi didn’t sense any pleasant surprise from him; rather, it felt a bit constrained. Still, Meng Chi walked over with a polite smile.

“Looking for me?” Meng Chi asked.

“Yeah, I have something to ask you.” Song Min nodded. Meng Chi noticed his brows knit together ever so faintly—a flash of a complex expression passing through his eyes, looking as if he found it difficult to speak up.

“What is it?” Meng Chi prompted again.

“I want to learn how to brew tea.” Seeing Meng Chi raise an eyebrow slightly after he said this, Song Min quickly added, “It’s my grandmother’s birthday next week, and I want to brew a pot of tea for her with my own hands.”

Meng Chi nodded in understanding. Song Min then asked, “Would you be willing to teach me?”

Faced with Song Min’s pitiable, puppy-dog expression, Meng Chi truly couldn’t find the heart to refuse—especially considering that Song Min probably hadn’t really wanted to come to him for help either. After all, Meng Chi was with Yu Tingzhi now, making him Song Min’s romantic rival in a sense.

In just two short months, the dynamic among the three of them had completely inverted, which was honestly quite comical.

Since they hadn’t reached the point of cutting off all contact, now that Song Min had swallowed his pride to ask for help, Meng Chi could only agree.

Song Min had come into contact with tea brewing before while doing research projects, so there was no need to teach him the basic functions of the tea set. They started directly with the etiquette and procedures. Unlike in the past, Meng Chi made no attempts to use the opportunity for physical contact; even when guiding him hand-in-hand, he kept it strictly professional and brief.

However, although Song Min learned very earnestly, his movements were still incredibly clumsy. Meng Chi taught him for over an hour, wrapping up close to dusk. Song Min actively offered to buy Meng Chi dinner as a token of thanks, but Meng Chi politely declined, saying he already had plans for the evening.

Song Min nodded with a hint of regret. His lips parted as if he wanted to ask who he was meeting, but in the end, he didn’t.

Meng Chi checked the time, seeing it was about half an hour until Yu Tingzhi finished work, and offered Song Min a ride back to school since it was on his way.

After agreeing on the time for their next lesson, Song Min watched as Meng Chi walked toward Building 6, where the School of Arts held its classes.

Meng Chi had been to Zewu University many times, but he had never ventured into the teaching area. Since classes were currently in session, the campus was exceptionally quiet, save for the occasional booming voice of a lecturing professor.

Almost every university seemed to have a tree-lined avenue, flanked by tall maple trees that transformed with the four seasons—lush, vibrant green in spring and summer, falling into withered shades of orange and gold in autumn and winter.

Walking along this path, Meng Chi looked up to see a canopy of verdant green framing a patch of azure sky, complete with pure white clouds and birds soaring high above. Dappled sunlight seeped through the leaves, dancing in scattered patches across his body.

Looking at the hardworking students listening intently in the classrooms and hearing the knowledge being imparted by the professors, Meng Chi felt a long-absent nostalgia for his student days that he had once failed to cherish, alongside a faint sense of longing in his heart.

He couldn’t lost in thought for long, as the continuous vibration of his phone snapped him back to reality. Meng Chi reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, seeing messages from Chen Yan on WeChat.

[Why are you here?]

[Oh, here to find Teacher Yu.]

He answered his own question.

Meng Chi was speechless for a second. Raising his head to glance around the adjacent classrooms to see where Chen Yan had spotted him, his phone buzzed again.

[Ahead, the very first classroom.]

Meng Chi quickly locked onto the classroom Chen Yan was talking about. Just as he approached the window closest to him, he heard a familiar voice speaking words he was entirely unfamiliar with. Looking up, he saw the familiar figure standing in front of the podium diagonally ahead.

Yu Tingzhi was wearing a beige casual suit today, paired with a white button-down underneath. His bangs were swept back, revealing his broad forehead and sharp facial features, with gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. The reflection on the lenses softened the aloof aura in his eyes, giving him a gentle, scholarly air.

With one hand in his pocket and a red laser pointer in the other, he was gesturing toward a projection on the blackboard, explaining the stylistic lineage of the artwork.

Meng Chi had never seen Yu Tingzhi teach a class before. With just a single glance now, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Perhaps because the podium carried a unique magnetic field that rendered the identity of a “teacher” tangible, it instinctively made onlookers view the person standing up there through a filter of reverence. Thus, in Meng Chi’s eyes, that sense of refined, lofty elegance surrounding Yu Tingzhi became even more pronounced.

Yet, looking at Yu Tingzhi like this, all Meng Chi could think of was his dissolute appearance when lost in passion. Comparing the two sides, Meng Chi’s mood suddenly turned subtle.

The way Teacher Yu looked right now was way too much of a “refined act.” It made one desperately want to tear away his gentle exterior to see the completely different, unrestrained passion underneath.

[Look at that smitten face of yours.]

[[Image]]

Chen Yan sent two more messages. Looking at the extremely blurry photo of himself, Meng Chi actually felt a bit embarrassed. Tapping his phone, he replied: [Are you trying to fail this class?]

[Tsk, look at you flexing now that you’re the professor’s partner.]

[Already planning to whisper pillow talk into Teacher Yu’s ear, huh?]

Meng Chi: “…”

Rolling his eyes, Meng Chi was just about to ignore him completely when Chen Yan sent another message: [If you want to watch Teacher Yu teach, why don’t you come inside?]

[If you keep standing out there, the whole class is gonna be treated to the sight of a smitten top-tier player in a second.]

Meng Chi narrowed his eyes, scanned the room, and finally pinpointed Chen Yan sitting near the back door.

The classroom was large, but there weren’t many students attending, so the back few rows were entirely empty. Chen Yan was sitting in the very last row, with one of his decent roommates on his left and an empty seat on his right.

Chen Yan looked up toward him, patted the empty seat beside him, mouthed “come in,” and pointed at the open back door.

Then Meng Chi received another message: [Don’t you want to take Teacher Yu’s back door for once?]

Meng Chi: “…”

Perhaps because the dirty thoughts in his mind had developed into some weird roleplay fantasy, possessed by some strange impulse, Meng Chi actually looped around and snuck in through the back door.

On the podium, Yu Tingzhi’s voice paused for a fraction of a second. As his gaze swept over Meng Chi, a barely noticeable smile curved up the corner of his lips.

When Meng Chi met his eyes, he even gave him a subtle wink.

Yu Tingzhi’s expression remained unchanged as he continued lecturing on the birth of ancient art, seemingly unbothered by the tickle in his heart from Meng Chi’s wink.

When the news first broke that a gorgeous new professor had joined the School of Arts, almost every time Yu Tingzhi held a class, students from other majors would come to audit. It wasn’t until his terrifyingly strict teaching style became common knowledge that fewer and fewer people came merely out of curiosity.

Even so, there were still bold individuals who came to catch a glimpse of the handsome professor. Thus, the students didn’t think much of Meng Chi sneaking into the classroom; only a few female students stole an extra glance or two because they thought he was attractive.

Meng Chi had never sat in a university lecture hall like a proper student before, and he unexpectedly felt a bit excited. He instinctively sat up straight, forming a stark contrast with the slouched Chen Yan beside him.

After Meng Chi sat down, Chen Yan continued playing on his phone with his head down, merely lowering his voice to whisper in Meng Chi’s ear: “Feast your eyes all you want. Just hope that after listening to this lecture, you can still get it up for him when you get back.”

Meng Chi: “…”

“That mouth of yours really needs to be sewn shut.”

Chen Yan curled his lip and went back to typing frantically on his phone, his fingers moving like a blur.

Sitting upright, Meng Chi stared unblinkingly at Yu Tingzhi on the podium, his gaze tracking every movement—watching the long, slender lines of his legs as he walked back and forth; watching the tight curve of his waist and hips as he leaned over slightly to operate the mouse; watching the prominent knuckles on the back of his hand as he leaned against the podium.

Every single detail managed to trigger dirty thoughts in Meng Chi’s head, but in this serious classroom setting, he had to exert immense effort to suppress them.

When Yu Tingzhi clicked play on a video slide, Chen Yan beside him suddenly tossed his phone into his textbook with a curse.

“What’s wrong with you?” Meng Chi turned around, catching a glimpse of the phone screen before it went dark. On the chat page, every green message bubble was preceded by a bright red exclamation mark, while the top of the screen displayed the contact name “Long-Haired Freak.”

Seeing that name, Meng Chi instantly thought of that long-haired guy named Zhou Wan.

So Chen Yan—the master-level dominant top with superb techniques—was still sitting firmly on someone’s block list.

“He’s still ignoring you?” Meng Chi glanced at Chen Yan with amused eyes. This was the very first time he had seen him look so thoroughly defeated and frustrated.

Hearing that, Chen Yan scoffed with disdain: “Who cares about him? Aside from a decent face and ass, he’s just a stick figure. I didn’t even complain about him being all bones, yet he…”

Although Chen Yan didn’t finish his sentence, Meng Chi, having accidentally eavesdropped earlier, already knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Fucking stick figure,” Chen Yan muttered through gritted teeth, getting angrier the more he thought about it.

Meng Chi: “…”

From their brief encounters, Zhou Wan—whether in terms of height or build—clearly possessed a normal, lean-muscled male physique and was by no means skinny or weak. The description “stick figure” was purely Chen Yan spitefully bad-mouthing him out of resentment.

Since Chen Yan and Zhou Wan’s affairs were private, and Chen Yan didn’t elaborate, Meng Chi didn’t pry further either.

“Mind your manners, will you?”

Chen Yan snorted and leaned in closer to Meng Chi, whispering almost directly into his ear: “I’m telling you, it’s already generous of me not to beat him up. A scumbag like him who sleeps with someone and refuses to take responsibility—”

“Chen Yan.”

The video slide had been paused at some unknown moment. The classroom fell dead silent as Yu Tingzhi’s cold, crisp voice cut straight through Chen Yan’s accusation.

Yu Tingzhi’s gaze rested calmly on the two people whispering in the back row as he asked, “Why don’t you tell us: what significance did the artwork featured in the video just now hold for the development of fine arts during that period?”

“Huh?” Chen Yan met Yu Tingzhi’s cold stare with a baffled expression, instinctively casting a glance at Meng Chi beside him.

Meng Chi: “…” Why are you looking at me? I don’t know either.

Looking at the tall, upright Yu Tingzhi on the podium, Meng Chi suddenly understood why the students held such fear for Teacher Yu.

When Teacher Yu had a cold face, looking down with those clear, icy eyes, it really was a little intimidating.

“You don’t know?” Yu Tingzhi asked again.

Chen Yan, having been caught slacking off, could only respond with silence. How the hell should he know? All he knew was that good deeds go unrewarded!

After two or three seconds of dead silence, Yu Tingzhi’s cool, crisp voice rang out once more: “Submit two final term papers: one on a topic of your choice, and one based on the subject of today’s courseware.”

Chen Yan: “…?”