Chapter 24 First Teach How to Write “Rooster”

"Who needs to teach me that? What you like, what you want—how could I not know? So, wanna trade?"

"Is that really what you think of me?!"

He really wanted to give the little pup a good spanking. The person in his arms even raised his eyebrows smugly, proudly saying, "Yes." Shu Yangkuo frowned slightly but didn’t say anything more. He carried him into the bathroom, put him down by the toilet, then went to adjust the water temperature in the shower. Cold water splashed across his chest, but he paid it no mind.

After he finished peeing, Shi Zai suddenly realized Shu Yangkuo was genuinely angry. What was the big deal? Why was he always so touchy and petty?

Can't take a joke, can't say anything.

Oh no. Wide awake now, Shi Zai belatedly realized—with what he’d just said, would he never get to touch him again?

When it came to saving face, the only one in their family who was like that was the stinky man.

Shi Zai scratched his chin, stepped into the bathroom, and grabbed Shu Yangkuo as he turned to leave:

"Brother, I spoke out of turn, I was just joking. Why are you being so serious?"

"…"

"You—"

Before he could finish, Shi Zai’s hand was shaken off, and he nearly fell. Only then did the stinky man stop, steadying him.

But he stood rigid, veins popping, his broad back turned, shoulders shaking slightly—he looked utterly furious. Shi Zai quickly wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, burying his face against him. This time, he knew he’d really screwed up:

"Brother, don’t be mad, don’t be angry. You love me the most, you cherish me the most, I know that. But you understand, right? Sometimes I just say things like that to tease you, to get you to stop being angry about last night. I won’t go drink with anyone else again…"

"From now on, only call me Big Brother."

"Brother??"

"Big Brother was wrong. Xiao Zai only wants Big Brother. I shouldn’t have done those things to you. From now on, I’ll sleep in the living room."

"…??!!"

What did he mean, "only wants Big Brother"?

Unable to face him, Shi Zai said with a choked voice from behind:

"Brother is my treasure, my husband. Big Brother is family, unmatched by anyone—the one who filled the voids of my past. Don’t you know the difference between the two? Why are you saying that to me?"

"…"

"And what do you mean 'those things'? Does Brother only want to be Big Brother? Do you think I’m too clingy? Then go sleep in the living room! I won’t bother you, I won’t make you kiss me or touch me!! I knew no one would ever truly love me!!"

He started shouting, and by the time he finished, Shi Zai was sobbing uncontrollably, crying like a child.

He was angry at the stinky man, and angry at himself—why had he suddenly spoken so recklessly?

Shu Yangkuo turned around abruptly, holding tightly to the boy trying to push him away. He wished he could slap himself. He took Shi Zai’s trembling fist, opened it, and guided the open palm toward his own face.

The crying stopped instantly. Shi Zai pulled back his hand in disbelief, just before it struck:

"Brother, what are you doing?!"

"…It was Brother’s mistake. Xiao Zai should hit me."

"Wahh, what are you doing? Are you sick? Have you lost your mind? Brother, don’t be like this, please…"

Shi Zai started crying again. He didn’t understand how things had turned out like this. Just moments ago, he’d been happily looking at the "Fu Zai" gift, so touched by the man’s feelings that he’d called him "Big Brother." How had it suddenly come to this?

His heart felt shattered into ten thousand pieces by those tears. Shu Yangkuo closed his eyes, pulling him entirely into his embrace. He thought, *I really am sick, really crazy*. He kissed away the endless tears, voice choked as he comforted:

"Baby, it’s Brother who lost his head. I can’t stand seeing you drink with other men."

"…??"

Never expecting that to be the reason, Shi Zai stopped crying, lifting his red, swollen eyes:

"Brother, then can I still drink?"

"…If you want to, only in front of Brother."

"So—"

"Is that okay?"

Shi Zai nodded emphatically. Before he could finish, he continued:

"So Brother was jealous? Like the male lead in those novels, that psycho?"

"…"

If the person in his arms hadn’t added "psycho," Shu Yangkuo would have admitted it:

"I was worried you’d be pressured to drink. You had too much last night. Brother was scared."

"…"

He couldn’t remember how much he’d drunk. It didn’t seem like much—the alcohol wasn’t even strong. But—the stinky man said he was "scared." Shi Zai’s heart instantly softened. He didn’t dwell on Shu Yangkuo’s earlier behavior, which was even more psycho than the novel’s male lead. He kissed him to soothe him.

They were actually fine. In the end, they just cared too much about each other, too much about their place in each other’s hearts.

They were already so important to each other, yet it never felt like enough. That was why they’d escalated like that.

Deep down, they both still carried hidden insecurities. But it was okay. They’d only known each other for a month. There was still plenty of time to love each other more, understand each other better, and make each other feel completely secure.

Sometimes, throwing tantrums and venting was also a form of trust and reliance on each other.

Just like Yang Yun—at first, he never cried, never dared to show emotion. Slowly, now he dared to be cheeky in front of him, dared to cry freely with him and Shu Yangkuo, and could say whatever was on his mind or whatever bothered him.

Speaking out let the other understand and care more. If not for today’s outburst, how would Shi Zai have known Shu Yangkuo’s anger came from jealousy? How would he have known those words were compromises born of helpless love?

It was the same for Shi Zai. When he said he made him cry, Shu Yangkuo would understand better how to love him and make up for things.

What was the point of a lifetime of mutual respect and distance? Shi Zai wanted the most passionate, intimate, and intense emotions.

He stood on his toes, cupped Shu Yangkuo’s face to make him lower his head, and kissed his equally red eyes. It made his heart soften and find it endearing—this tall, stern man reddening his eyes for him again and again. What else could it be if not care?

Shi Zai took a deep breath, meeting the gaze that enveloped him:

"Brother, it’s because I love you, because you make me feel safe, that I dare to talk nonsense and vent. When I was little, no matter how much I wanted something, I never told anyone, never cried or shouted… Brother, I love you so much. You make me dare to cry and shout."

"......"

"Yeah, remember? From the very first morning I saw you, I already felt safe. It was the first time I broke down sobbing in years... Even though I was crying, I was happy, knowing that no matter what, someone would always spoil me. You get that, right, Ge?"

"Baby. Ge, I really..."

Not letting Shu Yangkuo finish, Shi Zai knew he was about to apologize again, so he covered his mouth and shook his head:

"Ge isn’t wrong, I know. It’s just because you’re loved by me that you get all clingy and fussy, right?"

"...Not being clingy."

"Alright, alright, it’s me who’s being clingy then. Ge, don’t be upset anymore, okay?"

Each sentence left Shu Yangkuo more at a loss for how to respond. He slightly averted his gaze—being coaxed like this by a boy eight years his junior was truly embarrassing. He couldn’t even string words together as well as the little pup.

Seeing him like this, Shi Zai secretly laughed to himself. What a proud, sensitive guy.

"Then, old-school, are you willing to let loose a little more for me?"

"...?"

"Will you drink with me?"

"...Yes."

"Will you speak your mind with me, even if it’s about jealousy?"

"...Yes."

"Will you become that kind of person for me?"

"..."

Hearing no response, Shi Zai chuckled. This stubborn man always thought he was too young—it was ridiculous. Just a little teasing and he got like this. There must be more fun in bed he wasn’t telling him about. If Shu Yangkuo was going to stay this conservative, he wasn’t gonna put up with it.

Shi Zai let out a soft laugh, blinked, and tugged at Shu Yangkuo’s ear:

"Ge, I like it when you lose control because of me, I like it when you..."

A whole string of more and more shameless "I like it when..." followed, leaving Shu Yangkuo with no choice but to nod and agree, "Yes."

But still, he felt there was plenty of time ahead.

If things really went too far, the little pup would just end up crying again. Even though he loved it when Shi Zai cried in bed, he couldn’t say it, couldn’t rush.

Somehow, the topic had circled back to this again. Shu Yangkuo fell silent. Thinking he was still a little upset about last night—after all, he was a sensitive soul—Shi Zai said:

"Ge, then how about I let you spank my butt? You can hit me if I’m disobedient, but gently, okay."

"..."

"You just said 'yes,' and now you don’t like my butt anymore?"

He really wouldn’t stop with the "butt" talk. He shouldn’t have touched it in the first place. Shu Yangkuo sighed softly:

"Big Brother hits once, Ge hits twice. Choose."

"Huh? Why?"

"Choose."

Shi Zai pouted. He could really keep up the act, so he decided to be bratty:

"Big Brother!"

"...Okay."

Ten seconds later, an "Ah!" echoed through the entire house.

Shi Zai clutched his butt under his pants, eyes wide. So Big Brother really hit him! Every other time, Shu Yangkuo would either pinch or pat lightly, but this slap actually made him shiver. That was harsh!

At this point, Yang Yun, who had been eavesdropping worriedly, hurried over and called through the door:

"Little bro, what’s wrong? Did some mean guy bully you?"

"...Hahaha..."

Shi Zai burst out laughing instantly—happy, so happy. Pink dumpling didn’t even ask for details and immediately took his side, even changing his way of referring to Shu Yangkuo from "Second Uncle" to "bad guy." Hahaha.

Hearing the laughter, Yang Yun relaxed, pouting a little. These two weirdos had been at it all morning.

But it was good. Even though he didn’t understand, he knew that after this morning, they would love each other even more.

After all, he was a little pup—crying one moment, laughing the next. Shu Yangkuo held him close and kept comforting him a bit longer before helping him undress. He himself was also all sweaty, so they ended up showering together. But as for Shi Zai’s "touching," Shu Yangkuo had to go back on his word this morning. If they kept going, he’d be late for work. Today, he planned to take Shi Zai to the museum with him.

The person in his arms kept squirming, insisting his butt was swollen from the hit. Shu Yangkuo let out a helpless sigh—there wasn’t even a red mark—but he had no choice but to rub it gently and coax him.

After washing up, Shi Zai suddenly smacked his forehead. He really shouldn’t drink casually! He deserved that slap! He couldn’t set up his stall again today—his shaobing business had already been on hold for two days. Drinking just ruins everything!

Ah well, no big deal. He’d make up for it tomorrow.

As for what came next, Shi Zai wrapped up his recording gig and decided to focus on making shaobing for now. He’d see how Tan Xun and the others managed on their own before deciding whether to join them. Honestly, even if he didn’t continue in the recording industry, Shi Zai could still do just fine if he put his mind to business.

But that was for later. A solid foundation would make everything else faster.

Breakfast was made by Yang Yun. As soon as Shi Zai entered the living room, he hurried over to hug pink dumpling and wrestle with him playfully for a while. The two of them laughed and played around for a good moment. No words needed—Yang Yun already understood the whole story and how Shi Zai was feeling now. Shi Zai was just playing around with him.

Noticing the new additions on each other, Shi Zai touched the green jade auspicious cloud and said seriously:

"Yun Bao, from now on, call your Second Uncle 'Big Brother' with me, okay?"

"...Why?"

"You know how he is—he overthinks everything and is so stubborn. We’re only three years apart. If you call him 'Second Uncle,' it makes me seem like a kid too, and he can’t loosen up in bed..."

The rest was whispered right into his ear, making Yang Yun too embarrassed to listen, so he quickly agreed.

Shu Yangkuo, who was bringing out the food in the kitchen, pretended not to see or hear. These two youngsters loved to tease him and make fun of him.

After setting the bowls and chopsticks, Shu Yangkuo peeled a hard-boiled egg and rolled it over Shi Zai’s eyes:

"Eat up. Later, come to work with Ge. I’ll teach you some characters."

"Ah???"

Chengzhou Museum.

In the third-floor office, Shu Yangkuo finished writing a passage amid quick scratching sounds and looked up—only to find the person beside him gone again. It had been just an hour and a half since they arrived that morning, yet Shi Zai had already slipped out three times—once to “pee,” once to “get water,” and this time, who knew where he’d vanished to, slipping away without a sound.

Shu Yangkuo wasn’t trying to force him into something he disliked. Knowing Shi Zai had a genuine interest in voice acting, he felt it essential for him to learn some characters.

Not all characters were easy to memorize.

For example…

Shu Yangkuo glanced at the two crooked characters scrawled in the notebook beside him—missing strokes here and there, with several dark smudges blotting them out, clear evidence of the little pup’s impatience. He needed to find a way to help him stay focused and persistent, Shu Yangkuo mused.

In the empty lot behind the building, Shi Zai yawned as he teased a stray cat at his feet.

He could endure any hardship—but sitting there like a child, painstakingly writing characters at his age? That was pure torture. He could function on just a few hours’ sleep when swamped with work, but today he was so exhausted his eyes were watering. Afraid his constant yawning would disturb others, he slipped out again.

That morning, he’d originally planned to visit several restaurants to see if any needed a long-term supply of shaobing—so he wouldn’t have to both bake them and hawk them on the streets. Though he’d told Shu Yangkuo he’d bring him along every day, deep down he didn’t want to—it was simply too exhausting. He could handle it alone; no need to drag anyone else along. Shu Yangkuo could use that time to study and prepare for the college entrance exams.

But apparently, this person wasn’t particularly keen on going to college.

Treading lightly, Shi Zai jogged upstairs and paused at the office door, hearing several people inside discussing work. He couldn’t make out what they were saying—and didn’t want to barge in—so he decided to wait outside.

As he listened, Shi Zai’s eyes slowly widened, and he suddenly grasped Shu Yangkuo’s well-intentioned plan.

Spotting the little pup peeking cautiously around the doorframe—just as before, shrinking back the moment he was noticed—Shu Yangkuo said “Wait a moment” to the two people inside, then walked over to the door and grabbed the one about to slip away:

“Xiao Zai, come in with me.”

“Bro, what were you all talking about?”

“Come in—I’ll tell you.”

“Hehe, actually, I get it now—but isn’t this kind of special treatment? I…”

Before he could finish, Shi Zai was gently but firmly nudged inside by the nape of his neck. The moment he saw the people inside, he flashed them a warm, charming smile.

A man and a woman—likely the “Director Lin” and “Director Sun” Shu Yangkuo had mentioned earlier. Shi Zai greeted them warmly, knowing full well how important they were, and casually offered to bring them shaobing next time. It wasn’t about currying favor—he simply wanted to build good rapport with the people around his brother.

Director Sun, elegant and poised in her qipao, smiled and said:

“Xiao Shi does have a lovely voice. He could give it a try.”

“Hehe, thank you, Director Sun! If it works out, I don’t need payment.”

“You little rascal—just like your brother! Both of you so selfless. This one refuses money, that one does too.”

“Hahaha, well, I’m not a professional, after all.”

“Voice work relies more on talent, young man. Be bold—it’s perfectly fine.”

Shi Zai glanced at Shu Yangkuo, who was watching him with gentle, smiling eyes. When their gazes met, Shu Yangkuo gave a subtle nod. Shi Zai smiled and agreed with Director Sun: “Okay.” Yes—he *should* be bolder, more confident. Plenty of talented people came from humble backgrounds, too.

After the two directors left, Shi Zai finally understood the whole story from Shu Yangkuo’s calm explanation.

The previous afternoon, Shu Yangkuo had attended the museum’s weekly meeting. Director Sun from the publicity department introduced next month’s plan: a ten-episode radio series featuring the museum’s treasured artifacts or standout cultural relics, broadcast on the city’s radio station. Its goal was to encourage the public to visit the museum more often during their leisure time and experience the charm of traditional culture. The content format and stylistic direction hadn’t yet been finalized.

In other words—what tone should the artifact introductions take? Serious—or lively? Director Sun wanted innovation and invited all departments to brainstorm ideas. Staff members who contributed outstanding proposals would receive her support in applying for next month’s performance bonuses.

Shu Yangkuo already had an idea—he hoped Shi Zai could do proper voiceovers, such as historical narration. He’d recently seen news reports about someone dubbing for historical figures, which struck him as fascinating. If *their* Shi Zai did it, it would undoubtedly be even more captivating. As for how to make it happen, he wasn’t sure yet. Just as he was pondering, he heard about the publicity department’s plan. So yesterday afternoon, he approached Director Sun, pitched the idea, and volunteered to write the scripts free of charge—securing this opportunity for Shi Zai to provide voiceovers for the artifacts in the program.

The concept was to anthropomorphize the artifacts and narrate the stories behind them—an approach far more engaging than straightforward exposition.

Director Sun listened to Shi Zai’s experimental dubbing clip—played from Shu Yangkuo’s phone—and said she’d consider it. Shu Yangkuo couldn’t wait to bring him to the museum this morning to study artifact-related characters. Some characters were difficult to remember, hence why Shi Zai needed to practice—relying solely on rote memorization risked errors.

Unexpectedly, the little pup showed zero enthusiasm for learning. Shu Yangkuo hadn’t mentioned it earlier, fearing Director Sun might reject the idea and unnecessarily raise Shi Zai’s hopes.

Fortunately, it was now essentially confirmed. Shu Yangkuo gently guided him back into the chair:

“Still don’t want to learn?”

“…Hmph.”

“Be good—Xiao Zai is smart. Twenty more times and you’ll master them.”

“…Aow! Aow! Aow! Aow!”

After yelling with his neck stretched taut, Shi Zai forced himself to focus on writing—but it was genuinely hard. This time, he couldn’t boast about memorizing them all—he truly couldn’t recall them. The characters on the notebook blurred together in his mind like identical twins.

—Pan Chi and Pan Hui.

Ten minutes earlier, Shu Yangkuo had already explained the distinction between them: “hornless little dragons” versus “small snakes.” Why not just say that instead of using such confusing terms? And frankly, in Shi Zai’s view, “hornless little dragons” and “small snakes” looked practically identical.

But this was an opportunity Shu Yangkuo had worked hard to secure for him—so Shi Zai *had* to study diligently.

Otherwise, if his brother had made a promise and he messed up, that would be deeply embarrassing.

After forcing himself to write five more times, Shi Zai shook his hand:

“Bro, my hand hurts.”

“Take a break.”

“It’s more tiring than helping you… Oh no—actually, touching you is *more* exhausting because there’s no break, hmph!”

“…”

That left him speechless. Shu Yangkuo sensed the little pup beside him was about to bounce off the walls. He stepped behind him, took his hand, and guided him through writing one more time. The characters on the notebook began blurring together, growing harder to distinguish.

After another guided round, Shi Zai pointed at Shu Yangkuo’s neat handwriting with his pencil:

“Bro, your handwriting is really nice. Why does Yun Bao say you only know how to lure cats and and tease dogs?”

“…”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…Only believe his one-sided stories?”

After a pause, Shi Zai burst into laughter. The crown prince was truly adorable. He rested his head on Shu Yangkuo’s arm and rubbed against it—and only then did Shu Yangkuo’s expression soften. So much fun.

About the past, it was mostly Yang Yun who talked—so Shi Zai accepted everything at face value. Shu Yangkuo was naturally quiet and rarely interrupted, added to, or corrected Yang Yun’s stories, leading Shi Zai to imagine their childhood as one of a pitiful little boy and a fierce playboy. Hahaha.

Actually, that wasn’t quite accurate. After all—he *was* the crown prince. He could do anything. Hehe.

For example, at Chaolin Temple, when archery enthusiasts climbed the mountain, Shu Yangkuo demonstrated his skills—and even earned two hours’ pay as a training partner. Someone claimed to be wearing a Sui dynasty jade pendant, but Shu Yangkuo identified it as dating from the Spring and Autumn or Warring States period. The man refused to believe him, so Shu Yangkuo suggested he go down the mountain and have it appraised by experts. Two days later, the man returned with a thank-you payment, saying his pendant had sold for a higher price at an auction house.

These skills weren’t especially useful in daily life—but among the wealthy? Entirely different story.

On the ninth night Shi Zai visited the temple, after hearing these anecdotes from other young monks, he briefly considered suggesting Shu Yangkuo teach archery to affluent clients later. But then he thought—the museum job was better suited for long-term development. No rush—take it one step at a time.

Speaking of wealth, Shi Zai blinked and nudged the person beside him:

“Brother, do you ever feel the *luocha* is big?”

“…Huh?”

“You used to be rich but now you’re poor—hahaha!”

“…We’re not poor now. We have a priceless treasure.”

“What?”

“…The treasure.”

Hearing those two words uttered so seriously in a place like the museum instantly made Shi Zai blush; he quickly lowered his head and began writing.

Tsk—his mouth was getting sweeter and sweeter… all thanks to his excellent teaching. Heh heh.

After writing just a few times, Shi Zai grew tired again and set down his pen.

“Brother, teach me some simpler characters first! Start with the easy ones and move on to the harder ones—you’re a completely unqualified teacher!”

“Alright, write *tuán lóng*—‘coiled dragon.’”

“No, no! Let *me* pick the characters—you teach me.”

Shu Yangkuo nodded and handed him a passage he’d written, inviting him to choose.

Shi Zai pushed it aside and shook his head:

“First, teach me how to write ‘chicken’! I want to learn *this* one… Ack!”

Seeing Shu Yangkuo’s expression turn genuinely stern, Shi Zai hastily began writing. After finally completing twenty repetitions, he slipped away unnoticed—determined to avoid being caught and forced to learn new characters. There was still nearly a month until the official dubbing; plenty of time remained.

At the same time, he decided he wouldn’t tag along anymore, so as not to hinder Shu Yangkuo’s work. He knew how seriously Shu Yangkuo took this job—he’d even been flipping through a thick book during meals.

Downstairs, Shi Zai ran into Director Lin, head of the cultural relics protection department—who hadn’t said much earlier. After exchanging greetings, Director Lin suggested he visit the relics housed in the adjacent building, explaining it would help with the dubbing later: experiencing them firsthand would allow for more authentic emotion.

After thanking him, Shi Zai cheerfully dashed over.

There weren’t many visitors on a weekday. Shi Zai breezed through all four floors in one go—and was deeply inspired. Though he couldn’t quite articulate his feelings, through these relics, he could almost see centuries-old history unfolding before him, giving him a profound sense of intersecting timelines.

There stood a pair of pottery figurines side by side—likely a couple. Shi Zai stood beside them and began improvising dialogue: sometimes cheerful and puzzled—“Yun Bao says you only know how to tease cats and dogs!”—and other times lowering his voice, “Only listening to his one-sided story?” His imitation was remarkably convincing, and he couldn’t stop chuckling to himself.

When he heard a soft “haha,” Shi Zai whirled around—there stood Director Sun.

“You’re truly something. You and your brother are both impressive. Keep it up, young man.”

“Heh heh—we won’t let the museum down!”

Director Sun smiled and walked away. Shi Zai rubbed his head and bounced on the spot—genuinely delighted.

As long as you keep moving forward with positivity, beams of freedom and light will find their way to you. With effort, opportunity knows no bounds!

Before leaving, Shi Zai suddenly noticed an especially unique relic. After admiring it for a while, he snapped a photo.

On the third floor of the adjacent office building, in his office, Shu Yangkuo was about to make a call to locate someone when the little pup peeked in cautiously. He shook his head with a wry smile—he’d barely left his chair all morning, while the little pup had been running wild all day, bursting with energy.

Judging by that expression, he must’ve been up to mischief again.

Shi Zai rushed in, pulled out his phone, opened the photo he’d taken, and blinked.

“Brother—tell me about this relic. What are these two little figures doing?”

“…??!!”