Chapter 10

“Father, do you know where Mr. Huang lives?” Halfway through following her father, Xue raised her head and asked, doubt flickering in her eyes.

Zhu Ming glanced down at Xue and replied, “How could I bring you to someone’s house without knowing? I asked your eldest aunt—Mr. Huang is currently renting her old house by the East Gate, the one that stands alone with its own courtyard. Your aunt bought a two-courtyard house recently, so the old place had been vacant and she’d been hoping to rent it out. Mr. Huang happened to take it.”

“Mr. Huang is renting Aunt’s house?” Xue was surprised. She hadn’t told her family the truth about Mr. Huang’s background; only she knew that Mr. Huang had once been a high-ranking female official—was it fifth or sixth rank? She had no clear concept. Still, she knew the local magistrate was only seventh rank. Mr. Huang outranked the county magistrate and had once served a princess—someone who had seen the world. Why would such a person return home and rent a house? It was as baffling as her decision to leave the capital and teach children in this small town.

Xue was familiar with the old family house—it was near the academy, a decent two-story residence facing the street, with a side room by the gate that had once served as a butchery. The back housed a small brick and timber structure, cheap but cramped, and when the Wang family grew in number, they couldn’t fit anymore. The smell of meat lingered unpleasantly in the small courtyard. So, when her aunt had some money, she bought a two-courtyard house across the way, leaving the old house to sit empty, waiting for a tenant, until recently she’d asked an agent to let it out.

The agent had handled the tenants, and Aunt only knew the lessee was a woman. It wasn’t until she visited the Zhu family that she realized Mr. Huang was renting her house.

“Little donkey!” Xue’s eyes widened. Mr. Huang’s donkey was tied in the side room, and when it heard her voice, it looked at her with what seemed almost human recognition and brayed.

The old family house was comfortable enough, but lacked a stable. Mr. Huang clearly wasn’t planning to open a shop, so she’d converted the side room, put up a post, and tied her little donkey there.

Zhu Ming stood at the door, straightened the packages in his hand, and knocked. It was not Mr. Huang who answered.

An elderly woman opened the door, stout and tall, her fair, plump cheeks giving her a youthful look compared to most old ladies. She opened the door only a crack, blocking the entrance with her large frame and eyed them warily. “Who are you?”

Seeing the things in Zhu Ming’s hands, and noting their simple dress, she assumed they were servants of some local gentry, coming to seek favors from the lady scholar.

Although Huang Caiwei had returned quietly, several of the county’s old gentry had already come calling, hoping to make her acquaintance. The old woman arched an eyebrow and asked, “What sort of connection does your master have, to know our teacher’s address? Our teacher only wishes to teach and retire in peace, and doesn’t have time for outsiders.”

Zhu Ming was momentarily perplexed and hastened to reply, “I don’t know any such masters.”

The woman looked more closely at the humble gifts—just a few paper-wrapped pastries and three strips of dried meat—not the kind of offerings the local gentry would bring. Realizing her mistake, she opened the door a little wider, her tone softening. “Then you are…?”

Zhu Ming nudged Xue forward. “My daughter is of the age to begin her education…”

He hadn’t finished when Mr. Huang’s voice called from inside, “Mama Qiao, who is it?”

“They’re here to inquire about schooling, for you.”

“Let them come in then,” Mr. Huang replied.

Mama Qiao opened the door, letting father and daughter inside. In the main hall, Mr. Huang was seated, and beside her stood a grandmother and granddaughter. Mama Qiao whispered to Zhu Ming, “That pair is here for the same reason, but the granddaughter…”

She shook her head, a look of secrecy on her face, then glanced at Xue. Seeing the girl clear-eyed and alert, she relaxed.

The other old woman was nothing like Mama Qiao—stooped, with sparse hair and a sallow face, clearly from a poor farming family. The girl she held by the hand was about twelve or thirteen, with delicate features, though her expression was dull and puppet-like.

At once, it was clear her mind was not quite right, and Zhu Ming understood what Mama Qiao had left unsaid.

Xue, not understanding, simply stared at the girl. The girl, sensing the gaze, turned and met Xue’s eyes, flashing a silly smile as she waved. “You’re so pretty. Come play with me.”

Though the girl’s smile was vacant, Xue felt no malice and almost walked over, but Zhu Ming held her back. He knew better—not all who seemed harmless truly were.

Mr. Huang, seeing it was Zhu Ming and his daughter, beckoned them to sit, then said to the grandmother and granddaughter, “Please, have a seat as well.”

Xue sat down at once, curiosity bright in her eyes as she watched the other pair. The old woman, however, would not sit. Still holding her granddaughter’s hand, she pleaded, “Teacher, please let my Xiuying attend the academy. She’s not right here—” she tapped her own temple, “—but she’s not like other fools or mad girls. She can care for herself, help with chores, she just responds slowly. It happened when she fell in the water and took a fever as a child. I’m getting old, and she’s an orphan except for her uncle. If I pass in a few years and she’s still like this, how will she live? Teacher—”

Her voice rose to a wail, and before Mr. Huang could react, she dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Please, teacher, let her learn. She’s sweet-natured, treat her like the six- or seven-year-olds. If she causes trouble, I’ll punish her myself. Every year I’ve wanted to bring her, but the teachers always said she was too slow. When I heard a woman was teaching, I forced myself to try again—I beg you…”

Mr. Huang hurried over to help her up. “Granny Wu, you mustn’t kneel. In our new dynasty, commoners mustn’t kneel unless before an official in court.”

Mama Qiao, strong as an ox, hauled the old woman to her feet. “Speak properly to our teacher, don’t make things difficult by kneeling.”

Mr. Huang added, “The academy teaches, but cannot cure illness. If your granddaughter comes, she may not learn. This is the wrong place.”

“I know, I know…” Granny Wu’s face was ashen. “I just don’t want her to stay home, dull and lonely. Even if she learns a little, maybe her mind will clear up.”

Mr. Huang considered. “Your granddaughter is already twelve, but the law says children may enter at six—it doesn’t forbid older ones, nor those like her. If her household is in order and her background clear, she may attend.”

Granny Wu, overjoyed, grabbed Mr. Huang’s hands. “Thank you, thank you! I don’t know how to thank you enough!” She pressed a basket of eggs into Mr. Huang’s hands, insisting until she accepted.

Relieved, Granny Wu left with Xiuying, who looked back at Xue and Zhu Ming with a child’s eyes.

Xue watched her go, beginning to understand—Xiuying was different. But apart from her age, she seemed no different from anyone else. Why did her grandmother say she was “sick”? How strange.

Yet Xiuying’s grandmother was so good to her—no matter what, she wanted her to go to school, even if she said her granddaughter was slow. She clung to the teacher for her sake, so unlike Xue’s own grandmother.

“Little Xue, what brings you and your father here? Haven’t you already been admitted? The term begins on the first of August—you can start then.” Mr. Huang smiled.

Xue looked up, innocent and direct. “My father says you’ll teach me. You already said I could attend, so we’re already student and teacher. I’ve come to formally pay my respects.”

Zhu Ming had been about to speak more circumspectly, but Xue’s bluntness caught him off guard. Mr. Huang asked, “But since you’re attending the academy, we’re already teacher and student. Why come to pay respects now?”

Xue turned to her father. “Once I start, Mr. Huang will be my teacher anyway.”

Zhu Ming flushed with embarrassment. He had intended to ingratiate himself a little. The academy teacher-student bond was nothing—just three years of rote learning, after which, if there was no examination, what bond remained between teacher and country child?

They said a good teacher’s students flourished far and wide, but not all students were the same.

Xue understood none of this; she spoke with open candor, making pretense impossible for Zhu Ming, who said awkwardly, “Mr. Huang, you are fated to be my daughter’s benefactor. She is not like other girls—she can sit and study, and I do have selfish hopes. But I only wish you to guide her well. Whatever comes, she will honor you as her teacher forever.

“I’m a simple farmer and no good with words, but I know you’re a good teacher. If you find my Xue pleasing, let her pay her respects—‘Once a teacher, forever a parent…’” Glancing at Mr. Huang, he corrected himself, “Be it as a father or a mother, she will honor you always.”

He placed the ceremonial gifts on the table, saying, “You know our circumstances—we can’t afford fine things. In the old days, students would present a token gift; I’ve prepared this according to the ancient custom. Please don’t disdain it.”

Mama Qiao, listening, remarked with a sardonic edge, “So you’re not from the sort who seeks connections, yet here you are, pushing your girl to pay respects. Aren’t you eager for our teacher to accept her as a formal student?”

She scanned Xue critically, finding fault everywhere. “She doesn’t seem so remarkable—what makes you want to secure her a formal place?”

Xue felt Mama Qiao’s gaze but wasn’t intimidated. She looked back, thinking to herself that Mama Qiao’s hearty physique must mean she ate well—how enviable. She’d been impressed by Mama Qiao blocking the door earlier; if only she were that robust, she would surely win all the arm-wrestling contests among the village children.

Mama Qiao, noting the girl’s gaze full of admiration, was bemused. Was this one, too, a little off like Xiuying?

“What are you staring at?” Mama Qiao demanded.

“I admire your sturdiness,” Xue replied.

Having just praised his daughter, Zhu Ming now felt his hopes slipping away. He hurried to correct her, “Girls shouldn’t say such things! Don’t talk nonsense.”

With perfect composure, Xue asked, “If not ‘sturdy,’ then what?”

Mr. Huang laughed aloud at her candor. “People rarely describe women as sturdy, but it’s not wrong to say so of Mama Qiao.”

Mama Qiao’s expression soured. “So you’re calling me fat, aren’t you?”

“You could also use ‘robust’,” Mr. Huang suggested.

“Does ‘robust’ mean sturdy?” Xue asked.

“There’s a poem in the Book of Songs, ‘The Robust Lady’—it describes a tall, fair, and plump beauty, Lady Zhuang Jiang, wife of Duke Zhuang of Wei. In that age, such a figure was admired. ‘Robust and tall, clad in brocade…’” Mr. Huang began to recite.

Before she could finish, Mama Qiao shuddered. “Enough, teacher—only a scholar could insult me so graciously. I’m just a stout old woman, not some legendary beauty. Just call me sturdy!”

After teasing Mama Qiao, Mr. Huang turned to Xue. “I almost started teaching you poetry just now. Shouldn’t you pay your respects as a student?”

Xue was puzzled. Zhu Ming nudged her. “Go on, Xue, greet your teacher.” He set the token gifts on the table.

“But… haven’t I always called Mr. Huang ‘teacher’?” Xue was still confused.

Mr. Huang laughed heartily. “Little Xue, you’re quite right. I have always been your teacher—from the day I met you at the academy, I’ve been your teacher.”