Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 26

That punch stirred the courtyard like a hornet’s nest. The surrounding scholars immediately began murmuring among themselves.

It was a well-known saying that “a gentleman uses words, not fists.” As scholars, they prided themselves on being refined men—who among them would resort to violence over a few words?

The student who had been struck first stared in disbelief, then rage surged across his face. Just as he was about to lunge at Chu Ci, others rushed forward to hold him back.

Chu Ci merely sneered, bent down, and calmly picked up his fallen books. He brushed the mud from their covers one by one and said coldly, “A man brings humiliation upon himself before others can humiliate him. I hope you remember that lesson and stop meddling in others’ affairs.”

With that, he turned and started walking toward the county academy gate.

The student’s chest rose and fell violently. Seeing everyone’s thoughtful expressions fixed on him, his humiliation boiled over. With a furious roar, he tore free from those holding him and charged at Chu Ci, fist raised.

Caught off guard, Chu Ci heard gasps behind him. When he turned, the fist was already inches from his face. He only had time to curse inwardly—You bastard!—before closing his eyes and bracing for impact.

But the pain never came.

When he opened his eyes, a strong hand had reached past his shoulder, gripping the attacker’s fist in midair.

The hand looked powerful, veins standing out as it tightened. The trapped student’s face twisted in pain, almost crying out.

Chu Ci’s cheek was pressed against the man’s arm—heat radiated through the fabric, and he could almost feel the steady pulse beneath it.

He quickly stepped back and turned around, only to bump straight into the man’s chest. Composing himself, he clasped his hands in salute. “My thanks, brother, for stepping in. You’ve spared me some bruises. I’m deeply grateful.”

“It’s nothing—just a small effort,” came the man’s voice, deep and resonant, like the morning bell in a temple—low but pleasant to the ear.

Chu Ci looked up and finally saw him clearly. The man had slanted sword-like brows, eyes deep as ink, a strong nose, and thin lips. A faint scar crossed his cheek—but instead of marring his looks, it lent him a striking air of rugged strength.

For an instant, Chu Ci seemed to glimpse a general clad in heavy armor. But when he blinked, the man stood before him in ordinary clothes, his gaze calm and steady.

“Your small act spared me from injury,” Chu Ci said sincerely. “For me, that is no small favor. My name is Chu Ci—I’ve not yet taken a courtesy name. May I know your esteemed surname?”

“Not at all. I am Kou Jing, courtesy name Mozhi.”

“Kou as in ‘the scholar who remains tranquil, respecting elders and nobles’?” Chu Ci asked.

“The jing for quietness,” Kou Jing explained simply.

That morning, Kou Jing had come to the county academy for the sake of his young nephew.

A few days earlier, upon returning from military service, the first thing he’d done was visit his family’s ancestral graves to pay respects to his late parents and sister. His sister had died young, leaving behind only a son. According to her dying wish, the boy was to remain in Yuanshan County for three years before returning to the capital—and his studies could not be interrupted during that time.

Though the Kou family could afford to hire a private tutor, Kou Jing believed that having classmates would benefit the boy’s learning. So, he came early that morning to visit his old teacher at the academy, hoping the child could be admitted.

The headmaster had other guests at the time, so Kou Jing had been asked to wait.

While waiting, he strolled the grounds. After all, he had spent many years here as a student himself. He had heard the argument from the start but stayed out of it—after all, “to hear what one shouldn’t is improper.” Besides, the sharp-tongued scholar had seemed more than capable of defending himself.

Only when the situation escalated into violence did he finally step in.

As the two men exchanged words, the student whose hand he still held—Zhu Jie—snapped angrily, “Who are you? Why side with him against me? The county academy’s affairs need no meddling from outsiders! Get out!”

“Zhu Jie, mind your tongue!” came an aged voice. An elderly scholar with a stern face strode forward. “This is the son of Lord Kou Min, who earned his jinshi title in the sixteenth year of Jiayou. He himself once studied in this academy!”

Years ago, Kou Jing had passed the provincial exams and become a juren, but after receiving a scar on his face, he had been rejected from the metropolitan examination. Though he could have lived as a respected gentleman, his youthful ambitions refused to let him idle—so he laid down his brush and joined the army.

In Great Wei’s current age—where scholars were revered and soldiers despised—such a choice was seen as disgraceful. The examiner who oversaw his xiangshi had deemed him lacking a scholar’s virtue and struck his name from the registry. Thus, the headmaster, Master Kong, had chosen not to mention that detail earlier.

Kou Jing released Zhu Jie’s hand and bowed toward the headmaster. “I acted rashly in the heat of the moment, sir. Please forgive my discourtesy.”

“It’s not your fault,” said Master Kong. “You stepped in only to prevent worse trouble. You two—come inside and explain yourselves.”

He gave Zhu Jie and Chu Ci a hard glare. To brawl at the academy gates—it was a disgrace to scholars everywhere!

Master Kong walked ahead with hands clasped behind his back, his posture heavy with displeasure. 

Zhu Jie huffed and hurried forward, clearly intending to speak first and twist the story in his favor. Chu Ci smiled bitterly. He knew he was mostly in the wrong for striking first—but he had no regrets.

Kou Jing glanced at him, then casually pointed toward a small structure near the stone bridge.

Following his gaze, Chu Ci saw a hexagonal tower with small holes around its sides and faint burn marks near the base. Its aged, simple design told of long years.

A tower? Then realization dawned. He looked down at the books in his hands, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly in understanding.

“Thank you,” he mouthed silently.

Kou Jing smiled and nodded. As he expected, the young scholar was quick-witted.

Inside the hall, Master Kong sat down heavily at the front and said, “Explain yourselves. Why did you start fighting?”

“Sir,” Zhu Jie began quickly, “I was only debating with this man named Chu when he lost the argument and struck me in anger. Look at my face—he hit me! And after hitting me, he even mocked me! I was so furious I nearly struck back.”

“Chu Ci, is this true?” Master Kong didn’t decide immediately; he turned toward Chu Ci, who stood calm and composed.

“Sir,” Chu Ci bowed first, “it’s true that I struck first. You once taught us to be honest, and I dare not deceive you. But the cause of the matter is not as Zhu Brother claims—it was not anger, but another reason entirely.”

“Speak,” Master Kong said, his tone softening slightly.

“Yes. Please, sir, first look at these books.” Chu Ci placed his volumes on the desk beside him.

“The Analects, Mencius, The Book of Songs…” Master Kong stroked his beard approvingly. “Even while studying at home, you keep these close. Very good.”

But as he turned the pages, his expression darkened. “Hm? Why are the pages so filthy? How could you treat books so carelessly?”

As every scholar revered these classics, Master Kong’s displeasure was immediate.

“With respect, sir, I cannot agree,” said Chu Ci earnestly. “I’ve always cherished books and would never soil or damage them. I have never forgotten your first lesson—to ‘revere written words.’ Even when money was tight, I would not repurpose scrap paper after practice. Every few weeks, I would carry them to the Ziku Tower to burn them properly. How could I ever defile the sages’ texts?”

The Ziku Tower—also known as the “Word Preservation Pavilion” or “Character Furnace”—was a small pagoda built in every town for burning written paper respectfully. Wealthy families even kept one at home. The county academy’s stood beside the bridge at the gate.

“Then how did these books end up in this state?” Master Kong asked.

“Sir, earlier I was speaking outside with Brothers Qi and He. They had misunderstood me, and I was explaining myself. Just as they were about to apologize, this Brother Zhu rushed up to attack me. He ignored the books in my arms and knocked them to the ground, soiling them with mud. I was furious and struck him—but in hindsight, I acted rashly. I should have left such disrespect for the sages’ books to your judgment instead. Please, punish me for my impulsiveness.”

Zhu Jie’s face turned dark. Smooth talker!

But the one who looked worst was Master Kong himself. He stared coldly at Zhu Jie. “Is that true?”

“I… I didn’t know he was holding those books,” Zhu Jie stammered. “I thought it was just his own notes.”

“Absurd!” Master Kong slammed the table. “Even if it were his notes, you should never throw them to the ground! Did your first teacher not teach you to honor written words? Every year your instructor takes you to the Ziku Tower to burn your drafts—have you learned nothing?”

Zhu Jie turned pale and quickly bowed. “Sir, your teaching—I dare not forget! It was my fault today. Please don’t be angry. I’ll apologize right away.”

He had thought provoking Chu Ci into striking first would earn him punishment, but now he’d tripped over his own scheme.

“Brother Chu,” he said humbly, “I was momentarily foolish and defiled the sages’ books. Please forgive me.”

He kept his tone low and humble—hoping Chu Ci would overplay his hand, making the teacher see him as petty.

But Chu Ci wasn’t that naïve.

He smiled lightly. “Brother Zhu, there’s no need to apologize to me. As long as you remember the headmaster’s lesson today, that’s enough. Still, I was the one who hit you, and for that, I apologize.”

His calm grace made Zhu Jie look even more coarse. 

Master Kong’s impression of Chu Ci rose sharply—what a shame this student wasn’t under his own tutelage. With such poise and conviction, he would surely accomplish great things in the future.

Master Kong concluded the matter by ordering Zhu Jie to copy the sullied books in full and then burn the damaged ones at the Ziku Tower as penance. As for Chu Ci, though he had acted impulsively, his intent had been to defend the sages’ honor—so he received no punishment.

Zhu Jie accepted the penalty sullenly, hatred already festering in his heart. He shot Chu Ci a venomous glare, eyes full of threat.

Chu Ci merely thought, Bring it on. Whatever you try, I’ll beat you at your own game.

When everything was settled, the headmaster and Kou Jing went to the study to speak privately, while Chu Ci headed off to consult his own teacher about poetry and composition.