Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 34

After the exam results were announced, Chu Ci and Zhang Wenhai returned to Ping’an Town.
This time, there was one difference—Fang Jinyang came along with them.

He had been staying at the Zhang Wenhai residence these days, studying together with Zhang Wenhai, and to his surprise, he found many of Zhang Wenhai’s learning methods quite effective. Studying actually felt easier than before.

In the past, Fang’s academic performance had always been better than Zhang Wenhai’s. Yet after barely over a month, Wenhai had caught up.

At first, when Zhang Wenhai talked endlessly about how amazing Chu Ci was—how brilliant his teaching methods were—Fang had secretly scoffed. He thought Wenhai was just desperate, looking for any cure. After all, how could a teenager compare to scholars who’d studied for decades?

But once he met Chu Ci in person and spoke with him, he couldn’t help but believe everything Zhang Wenhai said. This young man truly was exceptional.

The old fuzi (teachers) were experienced but bound by rigid tradition; Chu Ci, though young and less seasoned, constantly sought innovation and new methods.

For days, Fang had been torn between curiosity and pride. When Zhang Wenhai and Chu Ci mentioned leaving for Ping’an Town, he bit his lip and decided to follow.

He went back to the academy, requested a leave from his teacher, and resolved to study in Ping’an Town with Zhang Wenhai until the county examination.

The Fang family wasn’t as wealthy as the Zhang Wenhais, but buying a house in a small town wasn’t difficult. Still, finding a good one took time—so for now, Fang continued living in the Zhang Wenhai household.

Zhang Wenhai was overjoyed, and Chu Ci had no objection. After all, having one more student didn’t matter. He’d once taught classes of forty or fifty people; how could he fear teaching just two?

Fang Jinyang’s foundation was stronger than Zhang Wenhai’s, so Chu Ci skipped over the Script Annotation and Moral Essays, starting him directly with the Nine Chapters problems.

Unexpectedly, Fang’s grasp of the Nine Chapters was even sharper than Zhang Wenhai’s. The standard elementary-level questions posed no challenge, forcing Chu Ci to dig out some junior-high-level math problems for him to tackle.

In addition, each student had to submit one poem or prose essay per day. Chu Ci assigned the topics at random, often flipping through books and crafting fragmented quotes or spliced questions on the spot.

For example, two days ago he’d given the line “Few in the world can cultivate themselves”—a sentence broken apart from The Great Learning, Chapter 9.

The original meaning was: a person must first cultivate his own character before managing a family well, for most people are biased—few can still see another’s virtues when they dislike them.

When Zhang Wenhai and Fang saw the question, they looked at each other helplessly. It took them quite some time even to recall where the line came from.

Chu Ci never gave hints during their exercises. He believed helping too much would make them dependent and lazy, killing their own initiative. But during grading, he would go over each word carefully, explaining precisely what was good and what was not. He encouraged free thought yet corrected their shortcomings—under his guidance, their progress was astonishing.

While they were busy working on assignments, Chu Ci had his own task: finishing his question anthology.

After Master Qin’s earlier advice, the compilation had gradually taken shape. He had expanded and refined the poetry, essay, and literary theory sections, raising the entire collection to a far higher level.

When he finally wrote the last stroke on the final page, Chu Ci let out a long sigh of relief. He had managed to finish the book just before mid-December.

He flexed his sore wrist. Beside him, Zhang Wenhai and Fang were still bent over their papers. When Chu Ci stood up suddenly, they tensed; Zhang Wenhai even reflexively covered his paper with his hand as Chu Ci walked past.

Chu Ci couldn’t help but laugh. “I need to step out for a while,” he told them. “Finish your assignments and leave them on the desk. Afterward, review your lessons. I’ll quiz you when I return.”

Though usually easygoing and humorous, when it came to lessons, his authority was unquestionable.

After arranging their study work, Chu Ci took his manuscript and went out. The weather had turned colder, and snow from the past two days still made the roads slick. He walked carefully—if he slipped and dirtied the final copy, all his effort would be wasted.

When he arrived at the Hanmo Bookstore, Shopkeeper Lu himself came rushing out to greet him, half crying with joy. “Brother Chu! You must leave me your address this time! Do you know how I’ve suffered without news of you?”

The last batch of storybooks with his illustrations had sold like wildfire, even boosting sales of everything else in the shop. The daily profit alone had Lu laughing in his sleep. But the boom had reached its peak.

He’d gone to the county to restock new titles, yet when customers found they had no Heavenly Guest illustrations, interest plummeted. Some wealthy servants even lingered outside daily, waiting for any new illustrated editions to bring back to their mistresses.

Across Ping’an and the neighboring towns, the women had adopted the hairstyles and clothing depicted in those illustrations as the latest fashion trend. After such a sensation, who could bear to return to plainness? Everyone was eagerly waiting for the next release.

Meanwhile, Jinyuxuan Pavilion had just launched the “Butterfly-Love Flower” hairpin, rumored to be designed from another of the “Heavenly Guest’s” sketches. It instantly became the talk of the town—no young lady dared appear in public without one.

Hearing this, Shopkeeper Lu had been full of regret. Why hadn’t he asked Chu Ci for a proper address before? What if the man never came back?

Now that Chu Ci stood before him again, there was no chance he’d let him go so easily. 

Chu Ci reluctantly wrote down several possible places he might stay in the future—instead of just “Changxi Village,” which was far too vague.

Lu beamed as he tucked the note away. Only then did he notice the thick manuscript Chu Ci was carrying.

“This must be that question anthology you mentioned! Finished so soon? Brother Chu, you’re truly gifted!” He flipped through a few pages, growing more and more excited. Having once taken the county exam himself—though he hadn’t passed—he knew enough to recognize its value. This would sell extremely well.

After reading, a faint melancholy crossed his face. If only such a guide had existed back then—perhaps he wouldn’t have failed the county exam.

Chu Ci smiled faintly. “You flatter me, Shopkeeper Lu. I only ask that you deliver this to the publishing house as quickly as possible. It must be released before the county exams; any delay will cut deeply into profits.”

“Of course, of course! I’ll send a carriage to the county right away!” Lu barked orders, calling for his helper Huzi to ready the horse cart. Then he settled the month’s payment with Chu Ci, handed him the latest storybook drafts for new illustrations, and let him be on his way.

Chu Ci didn’t linger. With the manuscript done, he could finally relax—and it was time to go home for a few days.

Thinking of his family filled him with warmth. How had the sale of their fields gone? Was his mother’s eyesight improving? He’d told his brother and sister-in-law to buy more liver for her nourishment. And his sister-in-law—was her belly showing now? What was his elder brother busy with at home? Had little Yuan practiced the characters he’d taught him?

He smiled at the thought—so many things to look forward to.

He still had seven or eight taels of silver on him, enough to buy gifts before heading home.

At the southern goods shop, he bought ejiao (donkey-hide gelatin) and red dates for his mother and sister-in-law—both of whom looked pale and anemic. He also picked up some fine tobacco, fragrant and dry to the touch, as gifts for the village head and Doctor Huang, who both enjoyed a smoke.

His brother loved wine—always sending little Yuan to fetch cheap two-wen liquor from the tavern. Chu Ci bought a jar of fine Shaoxing wine to satisfy his cravings.

As for little Yuan, he was the easiest to please. A few bags of the latest dried fruits and candies from town would make him happy for days.

When he finished shopping, the floor around him was piled with parcels. He laughed wryly—maybe he had a shopping problem; once he started buying, he couldn’t stop until his purse was empty.

The shopkeeper, of course, was delighted. Smiling ear to ear, he took the silver, ordered a helper to bring out a wheelbarrow, and even offered to deliver the goods.

When they reached the Zhang Wenhai residence, Chu Ci tipped the young porter a few coins and had the Zhang Wenhai servants unload everything.

“Brother Chu,” Zhang Wenhai rushed out with Fang Jinyang, “were our servants neglectful? You shouldn’t have to run errands yourself! You only need to say the word, and they’d bring anything you want. Did they refuse you?”

Chu Ci laughed. “You misunderstand, Brother Wenhai. I’m heading home for a visit, so I bought a few things to take back.”

“What? You’re leaving?” Zhang Wenhai looked stricken.

“Of course. I haven’t been home for half a month. My family must be worrying. I’ll go tomorrow—but don’t fret, I’ve already written out your assignments. You’ll continue studying while I’m away, and I’ll review them once I return.”

“But without you here, Brother Chu, studying’s no fun,” Zhang Wenhai muttered. “Right, Jinyang?”

Fang nudged him sharply, eyes warning him to look at Chu Ci’s face.

Zhang Wenhai glanced up and instantly shuddered. That half-smiling expression again!

“Of course,” he blurted out hastily, “we’ll study hard and not disappoint you! We’ll finish every assignment and wait dutifully for your return!”

Chu Ci’s smile softened—the expression of a teacher pleased with his students’ progress.

The next morning, after their usual Five-Animal Exercises, Chu Ci handed the blushing pair two stacks of test papers, took his breakfast to-go, and cheerfully set off in his small donkey cart toward home.

“Xiaoyuan, look! A donkey cart—it’s your uncle! He’s back!” a sharp-eyed child shouted, and soon all the children were yelling, “Your uncle’s back! Your uncle’s back!”

Chu Ci stepped down from the cart, smiling as he spotted little Chu Xiaoyuan, the self-proclaimed ringleader of the local children, running toward him at full speed.

As expected, the boy barreled into him, hugging his leg and bursting into tears. “Waaah! Uncle! You’ve been gone so long! I thought you weren’t coming back! Waaah!”

Chu Ci bent down, lifted him into his arms, and chuckled helplessly. “Didn’t I say I’d be gone for a while?”

“Not this long! Waaah!”

“Alright, alright, we’ll say I didn’t warn you. But are you really going to cry all the way home? Look—everyone’s laughing at you.”

Xiaoyuan’s face flushed red. He wiped his eyes and wriggled free. “I’m not crying! I’m just mad you broke your promise!”

“Fine, it’s Uncle’s fault,” Chu Ci said, pulling out a paper bag. “Here—peanut candy as an apology. Can you forgive me now?”

Xiaoyuan pouted, then snatched the candy. “Alright, I’ll forgive you.”

“Good boy. Now go share it with your friends. There’s plenty more at home—don’t be stingy,” Chu Ci warned, knowing the boy too well. Peanut candy was big, and Xiaoyuan had a habit of biting them in half so he could keep more for himself.

The boy huffed, clearly exasperated by this wasteful uncle. “They’re my little brothers—I won’t be stingy!”

Chu Ci laughed and let them keep playing before riding the cart home.

In the Chu family courtyard, his mother sat chatting with other old women, silver hairpin glinting atop her neatly tied bun, a brand-new padded jacket keeping her warm. Beside her, Shen Xiuniang was sewing baby clothes, occasionally joining the conversation.

Chu Ci’s elder brother squatted by the well, washing vegetables—since both his mother and wife were unwell, he had to take on the extra chores.

From afar came the sound of cart wheels creaking.

Old Madam Chu looked up sharply, eyes brightening. “Little Second is back!” she cried.