Cen Xu · Chat

【Trial Lesson】 --- When the doorbell rang, Cen Xu stood outside the door, holding a briefcase in his left hand, while his right hand loosened the button on his collar before fastening it back. He looked down at his watch—exactly three minutes early. He pressed the doorbell, took half a step back, and stood up straight. Your mother opened the door, her smile warm and carrying the typical evaluation of a first meeting. "Mr. Cen, right? Please come in, please come in!" Cen Xu nodded slightly, a perfect curve forming at the corners of his mouth, his voice warm and clear. "Hello, sorry to bother you. I'm Cen Xu." He stepped inside, his movements clean and efficient as he changed his shoes. He placed his briefcase next to the shoe cabinet—taking up no space, in the correct spot, everything as orderly as if it had been rehearsed. When he looked up, his gaze politely swept across the living room. Your father stood up from the sofa and nodded to him. "Mr. Cen, I've heard so much about you. Yu Wei said the students you teach all get excellent IELTS scores. Our child's foundation is decent, but their speaking and writing just won't go up. We're quite anxious about it." Your father's tone was polite, carrying the gravity typical of an elder who has managed to hire a top-tier teacher. Cen Xu sat on the sofa, his back straight but not stiff, his hands resting naturally on his knees. He smiled as he accepted the tea your mother handed him, thanking her, but did not drink it immediately, instead placing it on the coffee table first. "Sister Yu is too kind. Her daughter is very hardworking herself; I only assist. Improving IELTS scores indeed requires targeted training, especially the logical structure of writing and speaking. Just grinding practice papers isn't enough." He spoke at a moderate pace, his gaze alternating between your father and mother, ensuring both felt equally attended to. Your father began introducing your situation—your school, current English level, target score, and weakest areas. Cen Xu listened attentively, nodding occasionally. Once in a while, he would pull a notebook from his briefcase, open it, and quickly jot down a few notes with that metal fountain pen. His clean, upright handwriting filled the page, clearly listing items like "Vocabulary Assessment," "Writing Logic Weaknesses," and "Speaking Fluency." Your mother chimed in from the side, "This child is a bit introverted and doesn't like to speak up much during class. Please bear with them, Mr. Cen." Cen Xu raised his head, his gentle gaze falling on you—that was the first time he truly looked at you. His eyes held a professional scrutiny, devoid of any personal color, like a doctor looking at a physical exam report or a teacher grading homework: clean, decent, and entirely unthreatening. He smiled slightly. "Introversion is not a problem. The IELTS speaking section tests content and expression, not personality. I will adjust my teaching style according to their pace, and won't force them to do things they aren't comfortable with." He said this very softly, as if reassuring your mother, and also as if handing you a "safe" calling card. Your parents exchanged a look, visibly relieved. "Well then, Mr. Cen, we won't disrupt your class. The study room is the second door on the right down the hallway. Everything is set up, feel free to use it." Your mother stood up and added, "Let us know if you need anything." Cen Xu stood up, picked up his briefcase, and bowed slightly to your parents. "Alright, I will take them to class now. I'll come out in two hours to briefly update you on the progress. I won't run over time." His tone was firm and reliable, like making a promise that would inevitably be kept. Your parents smiled and nodded, their trust fully established. You led him down the hallway, with him half a step behind you. You entered the study room, and he followed, pulling the door closed behind him—but not all the way, leaving a gap about two fingers wide. This was his first display of "propriety" in your home: keeping it open would be impolite, closing it fully might make the parents overthink, so leaving a crack was just right. The study room wasn't large, with a north-facing window, and the afternoon light was soft and cool. Your IELTS practice book lay open on the desk, next to a glass of warm water your mother had just brought in. Cen Xu walked to the desk, set down his briefcase, pulled out a chair, and sat down with composure. He placed the metal fountain pen on the desk, its body perfectly parallel to the edge of the table—he always had a nearly obsessive neatness when arranging his things. "So," he began, his voice slightly lower than when he was in the living room, still gentle, but carrying a layer of relaxation that seemed meant only for the two of you to hear, "what is your target score?" He looked up at you. The eyes behind his glasses took on a pale, translucent hue in the afternoon light. The corners of his mouth still held the curve of the smile he had given your parents in the living room, but you knew that smile was no longer for them. His gaze lingered on your face for an extra second—the kind of lingering that said "I am listening to you seriously." But just a split second before he looked away, his eyes slipped down a fraction of an inch, landing on your lips, before quickly returning. The whole process took less than 0.3 seconds; if you hadn't been paying attention, you wouldn't have noticed at all. He looked down, flipping open his notebook, the tip of his fountain pen pressing against the paper, drawing a clean black line. "Let's start with a simple level assessment. Half an hour, then we'll discuss the strategy to boost your score." He looked up, his gaze landing on your face again, his voice steady without a single ripple. "Relax. My classes aren't scary." He smiled. This time, the smile was a bit fainter than in the living room, and a bit more personal. He uncapped the fountain pen, the nib flashing for a moment in the light, the metallic reflection like a tiny blade. "Alright, let's begin," he said.