Read Novel Full Chapter 56 - Going Home
**Chapter 56: Going Home**
Translator: Namizaki
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Chi Zhongqiao would never give the Calligraphy Teacher the congratulatory message he had written for the little girl. “I’ll write another one for you, Teacher,” he offered.
“No, no,” the Calligraphy Teacher insisted. “Come to my office to write it. The ink and paper here are just for practice—they’re not very good.”
Chi Zhongqiao picked up the girl’s practice sheet. “Why don’t you check this one first? I think she wrote it very well. Don’t you agree, Little Rose?”
He was skilled at coaxing people, and the little girl, already quite attached to him, smiled sweetly at his words.
The Calligraphy Teacher took the sheet and nodded. Eager to have Chi Zhongqiao write the calligraphy scroll for him, he gave a hurried instruction or two before dragging Chi Zhongqiao to his office.
He completely forgot about Liu Wanjun and pulled Chi Zhongqiao away without a second thought.
The cameraman, prompted by the crew, quickly followed. Chi Zhongqiao had previously demonstrated his calligraphy skills, though he didn’t seem to consider it a selling point. For the production team, however, this was a perfect fit for the show’s theme.
After all, when <The Secret to Getting Rich> was approved, it had been under the guise of “promoting history and culture.” They needed to include some genuine content in the program.
The Teachers Office at the training center wasn’t even half the size of a classroom, and all the Teachers’ desks were crammed into the space. When the film crew entered, the office became even more crowded, forcing some Teachers to stand up to make room for the cameras.
The Calligraphy Teacher retrieved the finest Xuan Paper from a cabinet. This handmade Xuan Paper was distinctly different from the practice paper used by students. It was pure white, finely textured, subtly lustrous without being slippery, and exceptionally durable and insect-resistant, earning it the reputation of “thousand-year paper.”
He carefully unwrapped a block of ink and personally mixed it with water, grinding it with a stone.
His deliberate movements were quite intimidating. Even his colleagues in the office had never seen him perform this elaborate ritual, let alone the amateur film crew.
Have they brought back a Master?
The few Calligraphy Teachers still in the office gathered around to watch.
Chi Zhongqiao spread out the paper. He was naturally slow-paced, but his youthful appearance and handsome features made him seem less serious than he actually was. Coupled with his reputation as an internet-addicted youth who was more adept at online memes than his own fans, and his reluctance to post his finished Calligraphy pieces online, many new fans assumed his Calligraphy skills were still developing and merely average.
Even the production team initially shared this assumption.
But the moment Chi Zhongqiao picked up the brush, he naturally settled into a state of profound calm.
Seeing him focus intently, everyone around held their breath. After a few moments of contemplation, Chi Zhongqiao turned to the Calligraphy Teacher and asked, “Teacher, what should I write?”
The tension immediately dissipated.
The Calligraphy Teacher pondered briefly. “Though I work at a Training Center, I still consider myself a Teacher. Let’s write ‘tireless in teaching.’ Once you’re done, I’ll frame it and hang it in the office. I’ll take it with me when I retire.”
Chi Zhongqiao moistened the brush, lifted his wrist, and let the tip touch the paper.
[诲人不倦.] Tireless in Teaching.
He typically wrote in the elegant Liu Style, characterized by its refined structure and graceful strokes, yet with a touch of unrestrained freedom in the beginning and ending strokes. But this time was different. The four characters were written with exceptional restraint and composure, the strokes carefully controlled and contained. The overall impression was one of solemn dignity and correctness, rather than striking brilliance.
Chi Zhongqiao gently rested the brush on the stand, the soft “click” startling the Calligraphy Teacher.
“Good! Good! Good!”
The Calligraphy Teacher exclaimed three times in quick succession. He wanted to pick up the paper but hesitated, mindful of the still-wet ink. Instead, he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, carefully scrutinizing the four characters.
Another Calligraphy Teacher sighed, “This is how a true Teacher should be—upright and proper.”
Chi Zhongqiao smiled. “Teachers are human too. As long as their character and attitude are upright when teaching and nurturing students, that’s enough.”
He stepped aside, and the cameraman seized the opportunity, quickly moving to Chi Zhongqiao’s original spot and filming the Xuan Paper from the writer’s perspective for several seconds.
“Teacher,” Chi Zhongqiao asked, “can I claim my reward now?”
The Calligraphy Teacher picked up an envelope from the table and handed it to Chi Zhongqiao.
Chi Zhongqiao squeezed the envelope, immediately recognizing the thickness of the paper inside.
He secretly peeked inside and his eyes lit up—it was money!
He couldn’t tell exactly how many bills there were, but they were definitely pink banknotes!1tln: The pink banknote in Chinese RMB is 100yuan
Chi Zhongqiao pocketed the money and made a quick exit. Just then, his phone buzzed with a message from the production team:
[ “Please arrive at the Hotel by 11:30 AM. The last person to arrive will face a severe penalty.” ]
It was already 11:10 AM!
As Chi Zhongqiao left the Training Center, he ran into Liu Wanjun, who had failed his task.
“Brother Qiao, can you wait for me?” Liu Wanjun called out urgently.
Chi Zhongqiao had already hailed a taxi and waved Liu Wanjun over.
Liu Wanjun squeezed into the back seat. “Thanks, Brother Qiao.”
During the ride to the Hotel, Liu Wanjun’s expression shifted several times before he finally explained awkwardly, “About that training session… the Director gave me the information. Since I had the least starting capital, I got an extra clue.”
Chi Zhongqiao chuckled. “I was wondering about that earlier.”
Liu Wanjun quickly added, “My starting capital was too low, so I… Please forgive me, Brother Qiao.”
Chi Zhongqiao didn’t mind. He had just pulled a fast one on Ge Fangyu himself. Variety shows were all about entertainment value—you had to let loose during games to create laughs and boost ratings.
The ride back to the Hotel was short. Chi Zhongqiao paid the fare, and he and Liu Wanjun entered the hotel together, relieved they weren’t the last to arrive.
Ge Fangyu was the last to arrive, his head bowed as he shuffled in. He asked the other four pitifully, “Which of you took my resource?”
Chi Zhongqiao sighed dramatically. “Brother Fang’s resource got stolen? How tragic.”
Ge Fangyu eyed Chi Zhongqiao suspiciously. “Wasn’t you?”
Chi Zhongqiao quickly shook his head. “No, I was busy with my own task.”
Ge Fangyu believed him, his gaze sweeping suspiciously over the others.
The Director raised a megaphone. “Quiet!”
The five contestants automatically lined up. The Director cleared his throat. “You’ve all been working hard this morning, so we’ve prepared a special lunch for you!”
“Really? What’s on the menu?” Ge Fangyu asked eagerly.
The Director didn’t even glance at him. “But remember, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. You’ll have to earn this meal through your own efforts. Bring out the challenge!”
A staff member carried in a box.
Xu Heng groaned. “Another draw? Can’t you be a little kinder to us Africans?”
Fei Zheng stared blankly ahead. “These challenges are just traps. I’m starting to think there’s no real difference between being African or European here.”2tln: Origin and Meaning
Unlucky “African”: The term “African” (非洲 – fēi zhōu) became associated with bad luck because early Chinese visual media, often reflecting European perspectives, did not feature or accurately represent people of African descent. Therefore, this term was adopted in online gaming to describe poor outcomes or unlucky situations, such as losing a game.
Lucky “European”: In contrast, “European” (欧洲 – Ōuzhōu) became synonymous with luck because it was associated with the predominant group in many historical portrayals of successful figures in games, leading to the term being used for positive outcomes.
This slang is almost exclusively used in online gaming contexts and is not a common part of everyday Chinese language.
Not Literal: The terms are not intended to be discriminatory and do not refer to people from Africa or Europe. It is a metaphorical association of luck with a perceived historical visual context rather than actual geography or demographics.
The four contestants jostled each other, reluctant to draw first.
After a moment of silence, Chi Zhongqiao raised his hand. “I’ll go first.”
“Brave warrior!” Xu Heng cheered.
Chi Zhongqiao reached into the box and pulled out a slip of paper. He froze, reading the challenge aloud: “Challenge: You say, they guess. Rules: Randomly select a contact from your phone and call them. You can’t reveal you’re on a mission or make direct requests like ‘I want to eat X.’ You must use hints to get the other person to name the dish you’ve chosen, and they must also explain how it’s prepared?!”
The Director waved his hand, and a staff member handed Chi Zhongqiao a menu.
“Your task is successful if you can get the other person to name a dish on this menu. Remember, it has to be a dish listed here.”
Chi Zhongqiao flipped through the menu and immediately spotted the “Cooling and Heat-Clearing Set” from two days ago. It consisted entirely of bitter melon and chrysanthemum.
“What will you choose?” the director asked.
“Yam and pork ribs,” Chi Zhongqiao replied.
After unlocking his phone, he watched helplessly as the Director’s finger swiped across the screen.
He felt a surge of despair. “Please don’t pick my Dad.”
Ge Fangyu asked curiously, “Why not?”
“He only knows how to cook bitter melon! And I hate bitter melon!” Chi Zhongqiao exclaimed.
Chi Zhongqiao was generally easy to please when it came to food, but even the most adaptable eaters have their limits. Bitter melon was his absolute nemesis. He loathed any dish that included it.
“Bitter melon stir-fried with pork is delicious,” Ge Fangyu insisted. “Just try it once, you’ll love it!”
“Then next time, I’ll treat you to a mushroom banquet.” Chi Zhongqiao retorted coldly.
Ge Fangyu, who never ate mushrooms, quickly backtracked. “No, no, no! I was just having a brain fart!”
Chi Zhongqiao kept his eyes fixed on the Director, who swiped a few more times before abruptly closing his eyes and randomly tapping a number.
The Director opened his eyes, glanced at the screen, and muttered, “Who’s this?” before dialing.
Chi Zhongqiao’s heart raced with each ringtone, until a familiar voice answered.
Yuzhou?!
“Brother Qiao, you’re done filming?”
The deep male voice came through the phone, and Chi Zhongqiao let out a sigh of relief.
Under the Director’s watchful gaze, he swallowed the words “I’m hungry.”
“Yuzhou, have you had lunch yet?” Chi Zhongqiao asked.
“Just finished a meeting. Have you eaten, Brother Qiao?” Lu Yuzhou replied.
“No!”
Now what? How can I get Yuzhou to say ‘yam and pork ribs’ without saying it myself?
“Why haven’t you eaten yet? I’ll order something. What do you want, Brother Qiao?” Lu Yuzhou offered.
“I…”
Can I just say ‘pork’?
The Director shook his head vehemently.
Lu Yuzhou sensed something was off. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Chi Zhongqiao replied listlessly.
If I can’t even say ‘want to eat,’ how am I supposed to continue? Am I supposed to rely on Yuzhou to read my mind?
Lu Yuzhou chuckled softly. “Are you on a mission, Brother Qiao?”
Chi Zhongqiao froze.
Leaning back in his chair, Lu Yuzhou gazed at the crystal ball on his desk, his voice full of amusement. “Calling at this hour? You must be hungry. Let me guess—you need me to name a dish?”
His boyfriend is so clever! Chi Zhongqiao thought.
“Yes, the tough part of the pork—the kind you often stew!”
The tough part of the pork? What kind of description is that?
Lu Yuzhou chuckled. “Yam and ribs, or lotus root and ribs?”
Chi Zhongqiao clung tightly to his phone. “The first one! Yuzhou, tell me how to make it too!”
Lu Yuzhou recited the recipe.
The Director stroked his chin. “Alright, mission complete.”
“I get food now!” Chi Zhongqiao exclaimed. He turned to the Director. “You’re the one providing the meal, right?”
The Director was speechless. “Yes, yes, yes.”
Chi Zhongqiao took his phone and sat at the table, waiting for his yam and ribs soup.
The soup arrived quickly, its aroma filling the hall. The four people who had been hungry all morning stared with hungry eyes.
Chi Zhongqiao sniffed the soup, picked up a rib, and asked the others, “Does it smell good?”
They nodded.
Chi Zhongqiao smiled. “Even if it smells good, it’s all mine.”
The others: I really want to punch him.
Chi Zhongqiao took a sip of the soup. The savory broth had a hint of sweetness from the yam. “I love this,” he said. “It smells just like the soup you make.”
Lu Yuzhou’s voice deepened. “Then I’ll stew a pot for you when you come home, Brother Qiao.”
They had often used the word “home” before, but now that they were officially together, its meaning had suddenly changed.
In that small house, someone was waiting for Chi Zhongqiao to come home.
Chi Zhongqiao’s heart settled. For the first time since arriving in this world, he finally had a place to return to.
