Traveling Through Ancient Times to Be a Teacher - Chapter 35

Chu Ci’s return stirred up quite the commotion— mostly among the old grannies gathered at his doorstep. The cause of their chatter was simple: he had generously made each of them a bowl of steaming sweet syrup water.

In these times, when industry was undeveloped, sugar was still a rare luxury— even more precious than salt. Salt was an essential commodity; no matter how hard life got, the imperial court would never let people go without it. Salt prices were regulated—poor families might eat bland food, but at least they could afford it.

Sugar, however, was different. A few decades ago, it was something only nobles and wealthy families could afford. Only after a craftsman accidentally improved the refining process did ordinary people begin to enjoy its sweetness.

For the villagers of Changxi, sweetness came only from the fruits growing on the hillsides. Apart from that, they’d taste sugar only during New Year or when there was a pregnant woman in the family.

Now, just by sitting at the Chu household, they were handed a free bowl of hot, sweet syrup—everyone felt too embarrassed to stay long. They stood up to leave, but after Chu Ci urged them several times, they finally accepted it.

Yet even then, none of them could bear to drink much. They just sipped lightly, then made excuses to go home—intending, of course, to let their children and grandchildren “have a taste too.”

Chu Ci had been generous with the sugar. Even if they watered it down again, it would still taste sweet.

Since Chu Xiaoyuan had already shared most of the peanut candy with the boys, this time the syrup was the girls’ turn—unless their grandmothers were particularly biased, the little girls would get to drink more.

At six or seven years old, these girls already had to start helping with chores. They rarely went out and didn’t have the freedom the boys did—to climb hills or fish in the river, or scavenge for snacks.

After the old women left, Madam Chu muttered that her son was being too generous—but her eyes shone with pride. After all, this was her boy giving her face.

Chu Ci only smiled. He unpacked all the gifts he’d bought and laid them out on the table.

When Chu Guang saw the wine jar, his grin nearly reached his ears—until Madam Chu and Shen Xiuniang shot him matching glares.

Still, when the women saw the other items—the red dates and the ejiao (donkey-hide gelatin)—they were troubled. They knew how to eat the dates, but not how to handle the ejiao. It was expensive too, so they didn’t dare waste it.

Chu Ci didn’t know the method either. He’d only ever seen the ready-made kind his grandmother and mother used to eat. But since he was going to visit the village head and Doctor Huang anyway, he could ask the doctor.

Chu Guang tagged along, carrying two packets of tobacco and two of malt sugar.

As they walked, he said, “Little Second, the fifty taels you had the village head bring back—we’ve spent most of it. Bought two mu of paddy and one mu of dry field. They’re all fertile land, so a bit pricier. I couldn’t find any more good plots for now. When we’re back, I’ll have your sister-in-law return the rest of the silver to you.”

Chu Ci frowned. “Brother, what are you saying—yours, mine? It’s ours. Sister-in-law’s the mistress of the house; of course the money should stay with her. If you say things like that again, I’ll tell Mother.”

“Haha, alright, I won’t say it again,” Chu Guang chuckled sheepishly. After a pause, he asked, “Little Second… do you ever think your brother’s useless?”

Chu Ci stopped, looked him straight in the eye. “Brother, you’re the best elder brother in all of Great Wei! If you were really useless, our family would’ve starved long ago. Did someone say something? Trying to stir trouble between us?”

In the original Chu Ci’s memories, both their parents had been sickly. It was Chu Guang who took on the family burden as a teenager— standing under the blazing sun for entire days to divert water to their fields, peeling skin off his back just to keep the crops alive; hacking wood before dawn in winter, cutting his foot with the axe yet still dragging two bundles home before heading out again, afraid the house would run out of firewood.

When the current Chu Ci first woke in this world, his brother had taken care of everything—even emptying the chamber pot without complaint because Chu Ci couldn’t move well.

Compared to him, the original boy had grown up in a honey jar. If Chu Ci still looked down on a brother like that, he wouldn’t be human.

Chu Guang’s heart warmed at his words. He’d always felt inferior next to his talented younger brother. 

He smiled a little. “No one said anything. I just… haven’t earned any money for a while. Makes me feel bad.”

He didn’t say it aloud, but he’d overheard people whispering that the Chu family could now “live off the scholar” without ever working again.
The words had stung. He didn’t want to be that kind of useless brother, dragging his younger sibling down.

“Brother,” Chu Ci said gently, “you’ll have plenty of chances to earn. But me—after the New Year, I’ll have to return to the county academy. Then the household will depend on you.”

“Don’t worry,” Chu Guang said seriously. “Your sister-in-law and I will handle everything. We’re even saving for your study expenses.”

The brothers chatted as they walked, and before long, they reached the village head’s house—a large courtyard on the east side of the village.

Its walls were packed earth, but the house itself was built with blue bricks and tiled roof, bright and clean—reportedly costing seventy or eighty taels of silver, the finest home in the village.

The gate stood open. Chu Ci knocked lightly, and a woman peeked out. “Oh, it’s Scholar Chu and Eldest Chu! Come in, come in. The old man just stepped out, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” Chu Ci said with a polite smile, handing her the gifts. “The village head has taken such good care of us. These are just small tokens of gratitude.”

The woman beamed as she accepted them. “Aiyo, you scholars really know how to talk. How could I refuse now? Come in, sit down—I’ll fetch you both some tea to warm up.”

They laughed and declined, saying they had to visit Doctor Huang, and would come by another day.

Leaving the village head’s home, they went on to Doctor Huang’s house. The doctor was in his courtyard drying herbs, but came over at once when his maid called.

“Ah, what brings you two here?”

“Doctor Huang,” Chu Ci said, bowing slightly, “thank you for always taking care of us. This is a small gift, please accept it. We did have a question today, if you have a moment.”

The doctor waved off the courtesy and motioned them to sit. “Go on, what is it?”

“I bought some ejiao for my mother and sister-in-law, but I don’t know how best to prepare it.”

“It’s excellent for replenishing blood and strengthening the body,” Doctor Huang said. “Usually, people make it into restorative jelly—melt it in a pot, add walnuts, red dates, other dried fruits, simmer till thick, then cool it. Cut off a piece whenever you need to eat it.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Chu Ci said earnestly, then turned to his brother. “Did you get that?”

Chu Guang nodded. He’d try a small batch first once they got home.

After chatting a while longer, they said their farewells—it was almost noon, time to prepare lunch.

On the road home, they met Chu Xiaoyuan, who wedged himself between them, holding a hand of each, hopping and skipping like a little frog.

Back home, Chu Guang headed to the kitchen to help, while Chu Ci sat Xiaoyuan down for a homework check.

The boy froze. He shuffled off to fetch a pile of papers and spread them nervously on the table.

Chu Ci read the first few pages and nodded approvingly. One could see a person’s attitude from their handwriting—and the early pages showed diligence. 

But as he flipped further, the writing grew sloppier, until the last sheet looked almost like wild cursive script.

Chu Ci’s face darkened. He stared silently at Xiaoyuan.

The boy bowed his head, tears dripping. “Uncle, I’m sorry… I know I was wrong.”

“I taught you a few sayings about study,” Chu Ci said quietly. “Recite them.”

“Diligence brings success; play brings waste. In youth, one knows not to study early; in old age, regrets come too late. An inch of time is an inch of gold; yet an inch of gold cannot buy an inch of time…” The softer his voice grew, the clearer it was that he realized his mistake.

In the kitchen, Madam Chu started to go out to intervene, but was stopped by Chu Guang and Shen Xiuniang.

“Mother, Little Second’s teaching him a lesson. If you step in now, that rascal will never learn to behave.”

“Who are you calling a rascal? Did I ever call you two that when you were boys?” she scolded him automatically, though she’d already understood the point. 

Shen Xiuniang hid a smile behind her sleeve.

Chu Ci said calmly, “Learning is like rowing upstream—if you don’t advance, you fall back. Waste a day, and you’ll need days to catch up. I want you to understand this: when you play, play well; when you study, study seriously. If you really can’t focus, don’t force yourself. Play hard, then come back and work hard. That’s still better than being careless.”

“I know my mistake, Uncle. I won’t do it again,” Xiaoyuan mumbled, sniffling. “Uncle… you don’t hate me, do you?”

Chu Ci pulled him close and patted his head. “I could never hate you. I just want you to grow up to be someone of worth. There’s so much knowledge in books—if you waste your time now, regret later won’t help.”

“Yes, Uncle,” the boy whispered.

After dinner, Chu Ci spoke to the family. “I want to take Xiaoyuan to the county for schooling.”

“What?” the three adults exclaimed together.

“Because of me, the village tutor still refuses to admit him. He’s getting older now; if he doesn’t start soon, he’ll fall behind. I can’t always stay home—after New Year, I’ll return to the county academy. If we wait longer, it’ll be too late.”

“But will the county school accept someone his age?”

“The county school has a child scholars’ class—mostly for officials’ or gentry’s sons. But if I ask my teacher, he might allow it. And if not, there are several private children’s academies in town. I can rent a place and take him myself, fetch him daily.”

No one spoke. After a long silence, Chu Guang said, “Little Second, I know you mean well, but maybe let it go. Your exams matter more. If you take Xiaoyuan, you’ll be distracted.” 

It hurt to say it, but he couldn’t bear the thought of his brother jeopardizing his studies.

Chu Ci smiled, confident. “Brother, if I didn’t have the ability, I wouldn’t propose it. If one extra child makes me falter, that only means my foundation’s weak. Xiaoyuan’s our family’s eldest grandson—if he achieves something, Father’s spirit in heaven will rejoice. Our ancestors, too.”

Seeing he had already decided, they stopped objecting.

From the start, Shen Xiuniang had been torn—thrilled her son might have a future, yet afraid he might burden Chu Ci. She had watched Chu Ci grow up herself; in her heart, he was half her own child.

Now that both hopes could be fulfilled, she silently prayed to the Bodhisattva that night, burning two sticks of incense—asking for peace, safety, and good fortune for their whole family.

Chu Ci stayed home until the twenty-second, then returned to the Zhang Wenhai residence. 

He checked his students’ work and was pleased—both had studied diligently even in his absence.

He pointed out flaws in their essays one by one and dictated one of his own compositions as reference. Having been refined by Master Qin, it now served well as a model piece.

A few days later came Zhang Wenhai’s twentieth birthday—the age of manhood. The capping ceremony was a major event for men, and the wealthy Zhang Wenhai family spared no expense, inviting all the prominent families in town.

After a series of intricate rituals, Zhang Wenhai finally received his courtesy name: Kuo Zhi (meaning “broad and vast”).

From then on, his peers could no longer call him by his given name—so Chu Ci and Fang Jinyang began addressing him as Brother Kuo Zhi.

Watching the ceremony, Chu Ci began musing to himself—his own birthday would come that September. Perhaps it was time he started thinking of a courtesy name too— something dignified, and loud enough to be remembered.