AVRL 9

It was still early, so Meng Chi took a cab back to the teahouse, had dinner with his master Yang Zhengfeng, and the two of them brewed a pot of Tieguanyin, sipping tea and chatting casually.

Over the years, Yang Zhengfeng had taken on more than one apprentice, but Meng Chi was the one who had lasted the longest, with the most skilled tea techniques, and he had even learned the long-spouted pot performance.

Currently, besides Meng Chi, there was one other apprentice at the shop, Du Feng. He was a full cycle older than Meng Chi, but he had entered the trade later and had just obtained his junior tea artist certification. Generally, he performed in the shop and hadn’t yet participated in outside events or competitions.

It was now March, and the spring tea season was approaching. Every year, for Youran Teahouse’s spring teas, the shop’s apprentices or Yang Zhengfeng himself would go directly to nearby tea-producing regions to select and purchase the leaves. This ensured quality and also gave them a better understanding of the tea.

“This year, I’ll take Du Feng to buy the tea,” Yang Zhengfeng said. “Besides that symposium at the convention center this month, you’ll go to the two events next month in my place.”

“Me?” Meng Chi asked.

“What? You get stage fright?” Yang Zhengfeng said.

“No, that’s not it.” Meng Chi smiled, then asked, “Is Du Ge okay with that?”

Yang Zhengfeng frowned. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Meng Chi didn’t say anything more and left everything to his master’s arrangements.

After sitting a while longer, Meng Chi’s phone buzzed incessantly. He pulled it out and saw it was Chen Yan sending a flurry of messages, asking if he was at the shop or at home.

“It’s cold out. If there’s nobody around, close up and go to bed,” Yang Zhengfeng said, picking up his purple clay pot and heading for the door.

Meng Chi typed a reply while saying, “Master, let me walk you out.”

“It’s just a few steps! I can manage!” Yang Zhengfeng bellowed from deep in his gut, not looking back as he strode off.

Fair enough.

Old Yang was fiercely independent and loved his freedom.

Meng Chi messaged Chen Yan back, saying he was heading home from the shop.

Chen Yan’s call came through almost immediately.

“I’m staying at your place tonight!”

His tone was harsh, and even through the phone, Meng Chi could feel his anger. Before Meng Chi could even ask what was wrong, Chen Yan was already cursing and venting about his awful roommate in a rapid-fire tirade.

Chen Yan was an openly gay man and had never tried to hide his orientation. Even when his roommate walked in on him kissing his boyfriend, he didn’t think much of it. But he hadn’t expected one of his more reserved roommates to react so strongly.

From that day on, not only did this roommate look at Chen Yan with disgust, but he also went out of his way to draw clear boundaries with him, as if Chen Yan’s very presence made him uncomfortable. He would lock the bathroom door when using it and only shower after Chen Yan had left the dorm.

Chen Yan hadn’t noticed at first, but when he did, it infuriated him.

As if he were some kind of pervert.

He couldn’t stay in the dorm anymore, so Chen Yan planned to move out, but the place he’d found wasn’t available yet—he’d have to wait a couple of days.

Zewu University’s dormitory conditions were quite good. Each room had its own bathroom with a dry-wet separation, and the toilet and shower were separated by a frosted glass door.

Tonight, Chen Yan had been gaming when he needed to use the bathroom, but his roommate happened to be about to shower and locked the bathroom door from the inside. No matter how hard Chen Yan knocked, he wouldn’t open it.

Already frustrated from losing his game, Chen Yan got into a huge argument with his roommate and stormed out, planning to crash at Meng Chi’s place for the night.

“Pisses me off. He should take a look at himself—even if I were blind, I wouldn’t be interested in him!” Even after arriving at Meng Chi’s apartment, Chen Yan was still rehashing his grievances.

“I don’t get it. Why do some people have such an inflated sense of self-importance? They should take a piss and look at their own reflection.”

Meng Chi made him a cup of tea to calm his fire. “Take it easy. You’ll move out in a couple of days—out of sight, out of mind.”

Chen Yan snorted angrily, picked up the frosted glass cup, and saw two yellow flowers floating in it. “You gave me chrysanthemum tea? I’m a big tough top, okay?”

Meng Chi was taken aback, then laughed and cursed, “Are you sick or what? If you were a bottom, I’d have given you cassia seed tea.”

Chen Yan took a sip. “Why?”

“Cassia seed tea lubricates the bowels and relieves constipation,” Meng Chi said.

Chen Yan laughed, then after a moment asked slyly, “Is there any tea that makes you hard and lasts longer?”

“Yeah, longan jasmine tea. Kidney tonic.” Meng Chi glanced at him. “You already having kidney problems?”

“Get lost,” Chen Yan shot back immediately. “I’m rock solid!”

Meng Chi smiled and stopped teasing him.

“Oh, by the way, you went to the porcelain factory with Song Min today, right?” The tea seemed to have done its job of clearing his mind and reducing his anger, because Chen Yan’s mood had improved considerably, and he started gossiping about Meng Chi’s love life. When he heard that Yu Tingzhi had also been there, he immediately shouted, “Why didn’t you tell me ahead of time? I’d have come too!”

“What would you have gone for?” Meng Chi asked. “Weren’t you all deflated about him?”

Chen Yan let out a long sigh. No matter how wild he played, he still had some principles at his core—he firmly refused to get involved in teacher-student relationships.

“You don’t get it. Just looking at a beautiful person is enough to make you happy, okay?” Chen Yan said. “The other day in art history class, when he was lecturing on Song Dynasty art, I actually didn’t doze off—I even raised my hand and answered a question.”

Meng Chi: “…”

He had to admit, sometimes a teacher’s looks could affect a student’s motivation to learn. Meng Chi thought that if he’d had a teacher who looked like Yu Tingzhi back in school, he might have actually fallen in love with studying and not ended up such a poor student.

As his mind wandered, Chen Yan asked, “So, how’s it going with you and Song Min?”

“Not bad, I guess.” Meng Chi picked and chose a few things from the day’s events to share, satisfying Chen Yan’s gossip craving.

Chen Yan clicked his tongue. “You’re not doing it right.”

Meng Chi: “…”

“Do you know what kind of person is the most popular?” Chen Yan swirled his chrysanthemum tea as if it were whiskey, striking the pose of a relationship guru at a bar.

“Your kind?” Meng Chi played along.

Chen Yan flashed a roguish grin, clicked his tongue, and for once showed some modesty. “I’m only slightly above average.”

Meng Chi: “…”

Chen Yan cleared his throat, put on a serious face, and said, “First, there’s the person who makes others feel like they’re smart.”

“Mm, and the second?” Meng Chi asked.

Chen Yan chuckled twice. “The second is the person who makes others feel like they themselves are smart. Obviously, the second type is more impressive, right?”

Meng Chi raised an eyebrow, thought it over for a moment, and nodded in agreement.

“Based on what you’ve told me, your performance today probably barely qualifies as the first type,” Chen Yan said, pointing at him with his cup.

Meng Chi rolled his eyes. “Just go wash up and sleep. Stop trying to be everyone’s teacher.”

“But for most people, managing the first type—not revealing yourself to be an idiot—is already pretty good.” Chen Yan shrugged, then added with a wistful sigh, “If someone could pull off the second type, they’d have to be incredibly smart and incredibly likable.”

Meng Chi didn’t agree or disagree.

Yang Zile had gone home to his father’s place tonight, so Meng Chi gave up his own room to Chen Yan and slept in Yang Zile’s room.

After he’d washed up and was lying in bed, his phone dinged with a notification.

It was Yu Tingzhi, accepting Meng Chi’s transfer.

Yu Tingzhi’s WeChat profile picture was a blob of black. Meng Chi tapped on it and recognized it as a completely black cat, with a tiny head and big yellow eyes.

Meng Chi squinted—he remembered this cat. Song Min had posted it on his Moments before.

A subtle, prickly displeasure rose in his chest. Thinking back on the day’s events, if his performance fit Chen Yan’s description of the first type, then Yu Tingzhi was no worse off.

In fact, he knew even more—after all, even Meng Chi had genuinely appreciated his knowledge.

As his thoughts drifted, Meng Chi suddenly realized that when Yu Tingzhi had mentioned the combination of poetry, calligraphy, painting, and seals, he seemed to have glanced at him. And when Meng Chi had spoken up about Emperor Huizong, Yu Tingzhi hadn’t seemed surprised at all.

Meng Chi formed a subtle guess—Yu Tingzhi had done it on purpose.

After hearing Meng Chi say “the finest bowl color is a bluish-black,” Yu Tingzhi knew he was familiar with the Treatise on Tea and inferred that he might also know something about Emperor Huizong.

So Yu Tingzhi had deliberately said a bit more, bringing up anecdotes about Emperor Huizong, giving Meng Chi an opening to join the conversation.

Realizing this, Meng Chi’s feelings became somewhat complicated. He sighed inwardly—this rival really wasn’t going to be easy to deal with.

But then, a new doubt surfaced.

Why would Yu Tingzhi do that?

Aren’t we rivals?

Didn’t he say Song Min and I weren’t suited? Wouldn’t it have been better to let Song Min see my ignorance?

Or… did he say Song Min and I aren’t suited not because he has feelings for Song Min, but because… he has feelings for me?

At this thought, Meng Chi was startled. Then his mind flashed through all of Yu Tingzhi’s ambiguous behavior afterward.

Staring at the faded 520 transfer in their chat, Meng Chi felt increasingly certain that this possibility was quite real.

So… was Yu Tingzhi trying to seduce me?