On the day he took Lin Wu to Shengcheng for school, Qi Biao felt he had never been so hesitant or reluctant before. Even though his words to the Lin family were brief and awkward—just simple reminders to take care of themselves—the Lin family could still sense that Qi Biao had grown deeply attached to them.
Qi Biao had always maintained a cold, aloof, and self-assured demeanor, but he was just a child the same age as Lin Cui’e. In the eyes of the elder Lin couple, he was merely a bit unusual. After nearly eight years of living together, how could there not be any affection? Since Qi Biao had taken the initiative to express concern for the Lin family, the elder Lin couple naturally responded with warm and earnest advice.
So, the farewell scene was hard to describe—was it awkward or heartwarming? Perhaps Qi Biao couldn’t bear such moments. After ruffling Lin Fang’s head with his large hand before she could dodge, he mounted his horse and galloped away ahead of them.
As Lin Fang had predicted, after the school reopened, most of the previous students were unwilling to return due to the fees. However, newly relocated families found Lin Fang’s tuition cheaper than elsewhere. Aside from the fact that the teacher was young and a girl, everything else was acceptable. Besides, this was just an introductory school meant for basic literacy, and as long as the teacher could teach, some were still willing to attend.
The new desks were modeled after the double-seater desks from Lin Fang’s previous life. However, since calligraphy was part of the curriculum here, Lin Fang arranged for each student to have their own desk to accommodate ink, brushes, paper, and inkstones. As for charcoal pencils, though her family sold them, Lin Fang restricted their use. She didn’t want her students to end up like her in her past life—unable to write with a brush. Charcoal pencils were only for emergencies. Moreover, brush calligraphy was the mainstream in this era.
At first, only a few new students came for trial lessons. If they were dissatisfied, they wouldn’t return even if it meant not studying at all. Later, those few gradually grew fond of Lin Fang’s teaching style, and word spread. More students came, but Lin Fang soon found herself overwhelmed.
At the start of the term, the language class had two textbooks: one was *The Three Character Classic*, the traditional primer for introductory schools, and the other was Lin Fang’s self-compiled textbook, which focused on everyday vocabulary. Students could choose either. The arithmetic class also used Lin Fang’s self-made materials, starting with addition and subtraction using Arabic numerals.
Lin Fang couldn’t understand why this world already had Arabic numerals but no mechanized operations. Most production was still done manually, which seemed incredibly backward. What kind of era was this?
The language class was manageable. Fast learners picked up characters quickly, and Lin Fang could teach them to form simple sentences. For slower learners, she assigned extra practice. For particularly tricky characters, she would tell stories, cite historical anecdotes, or use analogies to help them remember.
For example, one student kept forgetting the horizontal stroke inside the character for “wine” (酒), always writing it as “spill” (洒).
Lin Fang had an idea. She asked the student, “When you drink wine, do you open the lid of the wine jar?” The student laughed and said, “Of course, or how would you pour the wine?” Lin Fang then asked, “After pouring, do you cover the jar again?” The student replied, “Naturally, or the wine would spill. Even if it doesn’t, the flavor would weaken over time.”
Lin Fang chuckled. “That’s right! You forgot to cover the wine jar, so the wine spilled.” As she spoke, she added the missing stroke to the character, changing “spill” (洒) into “wine” (酒). From then on, the student never made that mistake again.
The arithmetic class, however, was exhausting and often left Lin Fang torn between laughter and frustration.
For instance, when Lin Fang asked, “What’s four plus five?” some couldn’t answer. But if she rephrased it—”If you have four eggs in a basket and add five more, how many are there?”—the same student would think for a moment and say, “Nine.” If she used money as an analogy, the answer came even faster and was always correct.
Lin Fang found this odd and mentioned it to Chen Dong, who said, “What’s strange about that? It’s human survival instinct. Most poor families can’t afford schooling, but they still have to live. To survive, they must handle money, so they develop this skill over time. Don’t think just because you’re a college graduate that your mental math is better than some illiterate folks.”
Lin Fang believed this. In her past life, her second brother ran a small shop in the village selling pesticides and fertilizers. When she occasionally minded the store, customers would often calculate their totals faster than she could punch them into a calculator. Some even teased her, saying a student like her was worse at math than uneducated villagers.
Chen Dong’s words reminded Lin Fang of something—she had forgotten about a great helper. Chen Dong, having lived a rough life in her past existence, was far more suited to teaching students of varying ages than Lin Fang, who had grown up sheltered.
“Hey,” Lin Fang said, “I almost forgot. You spend all day either studying or resting—that’s unfair. You have to help me.”
Chen Dong immediately grew wary. “How?”
Lin Fang grinned. “You teach arithmetic; I’ll teach language. We’ll divide the work.”
“Cut it out,” Chen Dong shook her head. “You know me—I’m good at hitting people, not teaching them. If I end up beating the students, can you take responsibility?”
Lin Fang scoffed. “Oh please, you’re not fooling anyone. You may look seven, but with your past life, you’re practically forty. You’re not a child anymore—you wouldn’t lose control like that. Besides, if you were really so violent, your stepmother would’ve killed you long ago. You wouldn’t be here watching me struggle.”
Chen Dong still refused. “No, my temper isn’t cut out for teaching.”
No matter how Lin Fang pleaded, Chen Dong wouldn’t agree. But Lin Fang wasn’t in a hurry—pestering Chen Dong had become her top priority.
“Ugh, please stop playing! If you keep this up, I won’t survive the night!”
“Haha, unless you agree to be my school’s teacher, I’ll spare you.”
“Miss, I’m just an illiterate concubine’s daughter. How could I possibly teach?”
“Cut the act. You’re not actually illiterate.”
“Even if you’re right, I’m a seven-year-old concubine’s daughter who’s never touched a book before. After just a month of studying with you, suddenly becoming a teacher? Who’d believe that? Even if they did, they’d think I was a monster. You just hate me and want to ruin me.”
“Fine. What will it take for you to help me? Otherwise, I’ll switch from the zither to the pipa, then the flute.”
“Alright, alright, my lady! I surrender. Others play music; you wield weapons of mass destruction. One instrument is torture—two, and I’d rather die now. Just tell me what you want.”
“Good girl! If you’d listened earlier, my fingers wouldn’t be sore. I’ve already figured out how to keep you from being summoned back by your stepmother for six years. Want to know how?”
“Go on. Six years away from her is the same as six years sold to you. At this age, I can’t escape anyway—I’m at your mercy.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Here’s my plan: Next time Master Sima visits, my father will sign a contract with him, making you my teaching assistant for six years. All expenses will be covered by the Lin family. If the Sima family breaks the contract and recalls you early, they’ll owe us five thousand taels of silver.”
“Five thousand taels?! Are you insane? Do you know how much that is? A million, maybe half a million! Do you know how much a person costs these days? The most expensive slave isn’t even ten taels—about a thousand bucks. Do the math—that’s three zeros difference! Am I worth that much? Besides, my father isn’t stupid. Why would he sign such a contract? Our family doesn’t owe yours anything—why use me as collateral?”
“Hah! So much for ‘no attachments.’ The moment I press you, you start defending your father and drop the ‘Master Sima’ act. Listen—cherish your ties to the Sima family. Everyone needs a home.”
“You think I don’t want to? In my past life, I had a family in name only. My own sisters nearly killed me over dowry money while I needed funds for school. Now I’m a concubine’s daughter, always watching my back against my stepmother. If I hadn’t made myself look like this, and if my father hadn’t hired doctors to ‘cure’ me, giving her no chance to act, I’d already be a wandering ghost in another world.”
“But you’re out now. If you survived all that, how could freedom be harder? I was just teasing earlier. Don’t worry—if you’re willing, my father will handle the negotiations with Master Sima. I really do need your help.”
“Fine, fine. Once you’re on a pirate ship, you obey the captain. But we can’t rush this. Officially, I’ve never touched a book before. We must take it slow, or we’ll both suffer.”
“I know. Now, let me treat you to some heavenly music.”
As *High Mountains and Flowing Water* began, it wasn’t exactly celestial, but compared to Lin Fang’s earlier cacophony, Chen Dong found it bearable.
After finishing, Lin Fang dangled another temptation: “You’ve been good today. Here’s another reward—you admire Qi Shi’s martial arts, right? Tomorrow, I’ll have her start teaching you. But on one condition: Show me Sima Rusu’s real face.”
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