AVRL 52

This class finally ended in a world where “only Chen Yan got hurt.” Enduring Chen Yan’s resentful gaze, Meng Chi walked over to Yu Tingzhi’s side and left the classroom side-by-side with him.

“How come you came so early?” Yu Tingzhi asked Meng Chi. “Did you come specifically to audit my class?”

“No,” Meng Chi chuckled. “Song Min came to the shop this afternoon, so I dropped him off on my way back. Seeing that the time was about right, I just stayed.”

Yu Tingzhi paused in his tracks: “Song Min went looking for you?”

“Yeah.” Meng Chi nodded and explained that Song Min wanted to learn tea brewing. Yu Tingzhi responded expressionlessly and continued walking forward with him.

Leaving Zewu University, Meng Chi drove Yu Tingzhi directly to a newly opened branch of Xianji in the new district.

Xianji was a fairly famous restaurant in Zewu; even on a regular weekday, you would have to wait for a table if you arrived late. When the two arrived, it was still quite early, yet plenty of guests were already seated outside waiting for their numbers to be called.

Meng Chi had made a reservation in advance. After giving his phone number, he was led by a uniformed host to the reserved private room.

“I remember you like eating the shrimp here,” Meng Chi said as he opened the menu to the shrimp page and pushed it over to Yu Tingzhi. “Which kind would you like?”

Yu Tingzhi took the menu: “How did you know I like the shrimp here?”

“When we were taking photos back then, didn’t Song Min mention it?” Meng Chi said. “He even bought a portion specially and brought it over to you.”

Yu Tingzhi raised his eyes, moving his gaze from the menu to Meng Chi’s face. Raising an eyebrow with a faint smile, he suddenly said, “I didn’t eat it.”

“You didn’t?” Meng Chi froze for a second, then immediately recalled that when he ate that day, there was indeed an untouched portion of Dragon Well tea-shrimp in the meal box, which ultimately all ended up in his own stomach. He asked hesitantly, “That portion of shrimp… wasn’t saved for me, was it?”

“Mm,” Yu Tingzhi said. “Yang Zile mentioned that you like eating shrimp, but don’t like peeling the shells.”

So he had set aside a portion of Dragon Well tea-shrimp that required no shelling.

Although this was a trivial matter that had passed a long time ago, learning of Yu Tingzhi’s thoughtfulness back then filled Meng Chi’s heart with no less emotion and sweetness, making the entire meal deeply enjoyable.

After She Shan’s photography exhibition, quite a few people indeed recognized Meng Chi and came to the Youran Teahouse out of admiration. Coupled with the release of the new spring tea, business at the Youran Teahouse had been booming during this period, and Yang Youran, when free from work, would drop by to help out from time to time.

After finishing their meal, Meng Chi still had to return to the teahouse to perform a tea ceremony, so Yu Tingzhi went back to the shop with him.

Summer had already set in, bringing long days and short nights. Around seven or eight o’clock, the sky had only just begun to darken, and more people were heading out for evening activities. Business at the teahouse was thriving, but it was no longer filled purely with young faces; middle-aged and elderly people now made up the majority, chatting in groups of twos and threes around the tables. Some had even brought a Go board, sipping tea while playing a game near the courtyard.

Meng Chi performed the tea-brewing ceremony on stage, while Yu Tingzhi sat below watching him. Although he had seen it many times, Yu Tingzhi watched attentively every single time.

When Meng Chi finished his performance and served a few regular elderly patrons who specifically requested him to brew their tea, he was finally free.

By the time Meng Chi returned to the tea table where Yu Tingzhi was sitting, Yu Tingzhi had already finished the “Tao Le Ge Bao” drink Meng Chi made for him.

“There shouldn’t be much left to do in the shop,” Meng Chi looked around at the peaceful patrons in the hall and said to Yu Tingzhi, “Let me drive you back.”

Yu Tingzhi didn’t object.

Meng Chi greeted the girl at the front desk and walked out of the shop with Yu Tingzhi. Passing through the courtyard, they ran into Yang Youran, who was returning empty tea sets.

The moment Yang Youran saw Yu Tingzhi beside Meng Chi, her eyebrows shot up, and she asked Meng Chi, “Is this your boyfriend?”

Meng Chi had known Yang Youran for seven years and they were extremely familiar with each other, but he was still often choked up by this sister’s blunt remarks. Fortunately, there was no one around at the moment.

Even in Yu Tingzhi’s eyes, a trace of surprise flashed by—a surprise that transformed into a smile the moment Meng Chi nodded in admission.

“Yeah.”

Yang Youran smiled: “He’s better looking than you.”

Meng Chi: “…”

After briefly exchanging greetings with Yang Youran, the two left the Youran Teahouse.

Getting into the car, Meng Chi remembered something and asked offhandedly, “Oh, right, do you know when She Shan is coming back?”

“No idea, I haven’t contacted him recently,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi nodded: “I don’t know what he’s up to either. I sent him WeChat messages and he didn’t reply, and he didn’t answer his phone either.”

Yu Tingzhi: “He shot another set of photos last week. He’s probably editing them; at times like this, he can’t be bothered to care about anything else.”

Meng Chi let out a chuckle and drove the car out of the parking lot.

“What are you looking for him for?” Yu Tingzhi asked.

“About the promotional video.” Meng Chi turned his head to glance at Yu Tingzhi, a relaxed smile resting between his brows. “My Master agreed. He told me to go ahead and do whatever I want.”

Infected by Meng Chi’s smile, the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s mouth curved up slightly as he asked teasingly, “What kind of magic potion did you feed your Master? He gave in so quickly.”

Meng Chi chuckled, contemplating for a moment before saying, “Actually, my Master isn’t completely stubborn. He can be set in his ways sometimes, but that’s only because he has his own principles to uphold. To be honest, this time I didn’t expect my Master’s attitude to shift so suddenly either. But I feel his change of heart might be because of that car accident.”

When a person believes they are about to leave this world, all conflicts and disputes vanish into thin air in an instant. The only things he couldn’t let go of, the things he cared about most, were just those few people in the group chat and that single teahouse.

Meng Chi recounted the contents of the voice note Yang Zhengfeng had sent to the WeChat group chat to Yu Tingzhi. After a brief silence, he added, “My Master… he truly considers me family.”

In a sense, the four members of the Yang family filled the void regarding family affection in Meng Chi’s life after he left home, showing him that while people need family, family doesn’t necessarily require a blood relation.

As the car glided forward, the warm orange streetlights flickered across Meng Chi’s face, alternating his features between light and shadow, casting a subtle air of depth and vulnerability rarely seen on him. It caused Yu Tingzhi’s heart to suddenly grow soft.

At the next intersection, the red light turned on. As the car came to a stop, Meng Chi had already gathered his emotions. He turned his head to look at Yu Tingzhi, who had been staring at him the entire time, and asked with a smile, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

“Because I like you,” Yu Tingzhi answered swiftly.

This sudden confession caught Meng Chi off guard for a second. Immediately, he covered his lips with a soft chuckle, stretching his tone as if embarrassed: “What are you doing—”

Yu Tingzhi smiled: “Nothing, just liking you.”

Meng Chi looked at him suspiciously for two seconds, a doting smile spreading across his face. The moment the light turned green, he started the car, looking straight ahead as he asked, “Do you have classes tomorrow morning?”

“No,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi nodded, looked around at the surroundings outside the car, then changed lanes to make a U-turn at the next intersection, turning onto a street heading in the opposite direction of Chaomuli Phase II.

“I don’t want to drop you home anymore,” Meng Chi said.

Yu Tingzhi raised an eyebrow: “Hmm?”

“Come to my place,” Meng Chi tilted his head to look at him, the outer corners of his eyes drooping into a seductive smile. “Yang Zile went back home to stay tonight; he’s not coming back.”

This was the second time Yu Tingzhi had come to Meng Chi’s place. The furnishings in the house were no different from last time, only neater, with a faint aroma of sandalwood wafting through the air.

“Do you want to shower first?” Meng Chi asked, pointing toward the bathroom. “The bathroom is over there.”

Hearing Yu Tingzhi acknowledge him, Meng Chi walked straight over to the living room to close the windows and draw the curtains. Finishing these, he turned back only to see Yu Tingzhi standing off to the side without moving.

“Why aren’t you going?” The moment he asked, Meng Chi realized Yu Tingzhi didn’t have a change of clothes. Walking up close to Yu Tingzhi with a chuckle, he said, “You’re going to take them off anyway, so why not just wear nothing?”

Despite saying so, Meng Chi still fetched him a set of his own pajamas—after all, he quite enjoyed the process of stripping the clothes off Yu Tingzhi’s body himself.

By the time Meng Chi entered the bathroom, Yu Tingzhi, who had finished showering, was observing his bedroom. The apartment was a two-bedroom unit without an extra room to serve as a study, but fortunately, the bedroom was spacious enough that placing a desk and bookshelf near the window didn’t feel cramped at all.

When entering, Yu Tingzhi had noticed a uniquely designed wooden dry-brewing tea table on the balcony; the desk and bookshelf in the bedroom shared the same color scheme and material.

The bookshelf was only two columns wide—half held books, while the other half served as a display shelf for small ornaments. As for the drawing sent by his student, Meng Chi had framed it in a wooden picture frame, placing it on the top shelf.

The books were mostly related to tea studies, such as Emperor Huizong of Song’s Treatise on Tea, Lu Yu’s The Classic of Tea, and the novel Tea Man Trilogy. Aside from these, Yu Tingzhi also spotted a copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Calligraphy.

“What are you looking at?” Meng Chi walked over, carrying a wave of warm steam.

“You’ve studied calligraphy?” The brush rack and inkstone on the desk were dusted over, so Yu Tingzhi used “studied” instead of “are studying.”

Meng Chi let out a laugh: “I haven’t studied it; I just bought these things for fun.”

Calling it “for fun” wasn’t entirely accurate. When Meng Chi bought this set of equipment back then, he had indeed intended to practice—not to practice handwriting, but to train the stability and flexibility of his wrists.

When he first started learning tea, Yang Zhengfeng had taken on several apprentices. In the same batch, there was a guy two years older than Meng Chi who learned better than anyone else, boasting steady, attractive hands that earned praise from Yang Zhengfeng every time.

Back then, Meng Chi was still clumsy. Hearing that this guy had practiced calligraphy—which made his hands steadier than regular people’s—Meng Chi monkey-see-monkey-doed and bought a set of equipment himself. He didn’t end up achieving anything with it and even got criticized by Yang Zhengfeng for not focusing on his proper duties.

“Didn’t even learn to write well, just wasted money,” Meng Chi sighed. “Making my already non-wealthy self even worse off.”

Amused by him, a clear smile appeared on Yu Tingzhi’s usually seldom-smiling face.

Meng Chi looked at him for a few seconds, then suddenly stepped forward and kissed the upturned corners of his lips. Yu Tingzhi’s laughter ground to an abrupt halt. Lowering his eyes to look at Meng Chi right in front of him, he asked, knowing full well the answer: “What are you doing?”

“I like you, want to kiss you,” Meng Chi said as he pressed onto Yu Tingzhi’s lips once more.

Squelching wet sounds and increasingly heavy breathing replaced the cheerful laughter. Meng Chi reached one hand into Yu Tingzhi’s pajama top to stroke his muscles, while holding Yu Tingzhi’s other hand to take away the wolf-hair brush he held, wanting him to focus entirely—but Yu Tingzhi didn’t let go.

In the pauses between kisses, Meng Chi whispered softly: “Teacher Yu, you’re not paying attention.”

Yu Tingzhi let out a low laugh; he indeed wasn’t paying attention.

Perhaps seeing Meng Chi sitting in the classroom like an obedient student earlier today made hearing him call out “Teacher” right now stir a subtle, irresistible itch in Yu Tingzhi’s heart. Kissing the corners of Meng Chi’s lips and neck, he slid the hand resting on his lower waist slightly downward, lifting him up to sit on the desk.

“After calling me ‘Teacher’ for so long, wouldn’t it be a bit inappropriate if I didn’t teach you something?” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi narrowed his eyes slightly, gazing down into Yu Tingzhi’s pitch-black eyes. The excitement and desire brewing within them made his own heart itch unbearably as well.

“Then what are you going to teach me?”

Yu Tingzhi pressed the wolf-hair brush against Meng Chi’s Adam’s apple, slowly tracing it downward, his voice raspy: “How about using local materials?”

When Meng Chi was still a poor kid back then, the brush he bought was hardly high quality; the tip was coarse and stiff, leaving a subtle tickle and faint prickle as it slid across the skin.

This itchy yet prickling sensation caused Meng Chi to instinctively arch his neck, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing as goosebumps surfaced on his skin. Yet he neither dodged nor hid, silently accepting Yu Tingzhi’s “instruction.”

Yu Tingzhi applied a bit of force, leaving a faint pink mark on the honey-colored skin where the tip of the brush swept past.

“Let’s start with the posture of holding the brush,” Yu Tingzhi said as he used his free left hand to guide Meng Chi’s right hand around the shaft beneath him.

“The three-finger method, right?” Student Meng answered ahead of time.

Before Teacher Yu could speak, Meng Chi’s fingers resting on the shaft changed from three into a five-finger grip. He smiled and said, “Teacher Yu, this brush is too thick; even five fingers don’t seem to work.”

Yu Tingzhi’s breathing grew heavy in response, and the hand holding the brush didn’t hold back either; the wolf-hair tip suddenly brushed harshly against Meng Chi’s chest muscle, unsure whether it was rewarding him for answering correctly or punishing him for arguing back.

“Then use two hands,” Yu Tingzhi said.

Meng Chi chuckled, holding the brush with both hands, adopting a humble attitude to learn: “And then? What should I do next?”

Yu Tingzhi continued his lesson: “Besides the three-finger method, holding the brush also includes the tube-rolling method and the tube-twisting method. Do you need me to explain what they mean?”

“Yes,” Meng Chi leaned his upper body back against the bookshelf while thrusting his waist slightly toward Yu Tingzhi’s abs, rubbing against him coquettishly. “I’m a bit slow; Teacher Yu had better teach by example, that way I’ll learn faster.”

Yu Tingzhi let out a low chuckle, taking hold of the brush Meng Chi handed over. His fingertips rubbed against the soft tip, twisting and rolling it until it turned moist and rigid in his grip.

Meng Chi followed his rhythm, learning and imitating attentively. Seeing the passion surfacing at the corners of Yu Tingzhi’s eyes and brows, he asked as if claiming credit: “Teacher Yu, how am I learning?”

Breathing deeply as he looked at Meng Chi’s smiling face, Yu Tingzhi leaned down and pressed a kiss onto his chest as a reward, kissing him until Meng Chi arched his chest and gasped for air.

After practicing holding the brush to “perfection,” Yu Tingzhi flipped Meng Chi over, leaning over his back and saying: “Next up is grinding the ink.”

“An inkstone left unused for a long time becomes dry and coarse; it needs water to lubricate it,” Yu Tingzhi explained as he retrieved the remaining lube from the cabinet, wetting his long fingers before going straight to work, grinding ink in circular motions at the center of the inkstone.

Just as the inkstone became lubricated and melted, Meng Chi’s phone suddenly rang.

The illuminated screen displayed the name “Chen Yan.” Meng Chi was in unbearable agony and was just about to decline the call when Yu Tingzhi suddenly reached out, took his phone, and swiped to accept it.

Meng Chi’s eyebrow twitched as he turned back to meet Yu Tingzhi’s dark, heavy eyes. Before he could speak, Chen Yan was already blabbering on the other end of the line.

“What are you doing? Why didn’t you reply to my WeChat?”

“Didn’t see it.” As Meng Chi answered the phone, Teacher Yu’s ink-grinding movements didn’t stop for a second. To avoid embarrassment, Meng Chi tried his best to maintain a normal tone: “What’s up? Spit it out.”

Chen Yan gave a “Hey”: “You’re with Teacher Yu right now, aren’t you?”

If you know that, why aren’t you hanging up already?

Meng Chi grumbled inwardly.

“Then help me talk to him, will you? I really don’t want to write two term papers,” Chen Yan softened his tone, carrying a somewhat pleasing edge.

Yu Tingzhi’s hands moved non-stop, causing Meng Chi to gasp directly, forcing him to speed up his reply: “Screw off, I can’t control that. Hanging up.”

“How can you not control it? You’re my professor’s partner—”

Although Meng Chi hung up the phone extremely quickly, Chen Yan’s call of “professor’s partner” still traveled through the receiver straight into Yu Tingzhi’s ear, causing the corners of his mouth to curve up further.

“Professor’s partner?” Yu Tingzhi leaned down, kissing Meng Chi’s flushed ear while asking.

Meng Chi’s heart was itching fiercely, and he said testily: “Partner my ass, I’m not a woman.”

Even after being scolded, Yu Tingzhi wasn’t annoyed; instead, his smile grew broader as he drew further inferences: “Then does that mean I can’t call you ‘wife’ either?”

Meng Chi chuckled, raising an eyebrow in response: “I don’t mind if you call me ‘husband.'”

Teacher Yu: “Call you what?”

The moment Meng Chi parted his lips, he realized Yu Tingzhi was setting a trap for him. Letting out a low laugh, he raised his eyelids to cast a glance at Yu Tingzhi: “Teacher Yu, if you want to hear it, you really don’t need to waste energy tricking me.”

Yu Tingzhi raised an eyebrow in silence, quietly looking at Meng Chi—watching him with his back turned to him, sinking his waist low, and dragging out his voice to call out: “Husband, come inside.”