Chapter Fourteen

August the first. Before dawn had even broken, Zhu Xuan was already up, sitting upright on her bed, wide awake and brimming with energy. Only a faint hint of morning light crept into the room, leaving it still quite dim, yet Zhu Xuan’s eyes shone brighter than the stars.

I, Zhu Xuan, can finally go to school!

She shouted in her heart, exhilarated.

She quickly climbed out of bed and took up the neatly folded new clothes at her bedside—a set made for her birthday just yesterday by Shen Yun. At last, she had her very own outfit. Zhu Xuan changed into her new clothes, excitement bubbling inside her.

Next came the new cloth shoes. These, too, were freshly made. Children’s feet grow quickly, and Zhu Xuan loved to run and leap about, so her shoes wore out faster than most. At home, unless she was leaving the house, she wore straw sandals made by her grandmother. But for school, she needed to look presentable.

To mark the occasion, Shen Yun had also sewn her a book-and-stationery satchel from the leftover fabric, the bag slung across her shoulder. The whole ensemble was a delicate lotus pink, save for the satchel’s strap, which was a vivid green. Zhu Xuan, already a pretty child, looked just like a little lotus sprite.

She had fumbled for a long time in the dark, attempting to tie her own hair, but her hands weren’t quite nimble enough.

“Let me,” said Zhu Lian, already standing behind her.

“Lian-jie, you’re up so early too?” Zhu Xuan looked up at her.

Zhu Lian smiled wryly. “With all your rustling about, how could I possibly sleep through it? Only Sister Ying can.”

She deftly arranged Zhu Xuan’s hair into a pair of intricate twin buns, winding them with green ribbons that matched her outfit, making Zhu Xuan appear even more fresh and lovely.

Having finished, Zhu Lian crawled back to bed to catch a little more sleep. Fully dressed, Zhu Xuan pushed open the door and went to wash up. Of the Zhu household, only Grandmother Sun was up before her, already tending the fire in the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Zhu Xuan washed herself with cold water and then sat by the stove, soaking in the warmth. Though summer still lingered, the mornings were a little chilly.

“Grandmother, let me help you with the stove,” she said, gazing at Old Lady Sun with anticipation.

“Off with you,” the old woman grumbled, waving her away. “A little miss in her new clothes, eager to tend the fire? If you get soot on yourself, I’ll be the one pained over the ruined outfit.”

So Zhu Xuan sat quietly, cradling her face in her hands, watching as Grandmother Sun cooked porridge and kneaded dough for scallion pancakes. The scallions were chopped fine and kneaded into the dough, then rolled out thin and wide, laid in a greased pan to bake. The aroma of scallions drifted into Zhu Xuan’s nose, making her stomach rumble.

When the porridge and pancakes were done, Grandmother Sun took a knife and sliced the pancake. Zhu Xuan watched her expectantly. The old lady silently cut her a small piece to taste.

The freshly made pancake was both fragrant and savory, the steam and scallion scent bursting on her tongue. Zhu Xuan scalded herself a bit, her tongue struggling as she wolfed it down, face contorted.

Her impatience made Grandmother Sun shake her head. “You eat like a starving ghost reincarnated. What’s the rush? It’s your first day at school, and I can already see you disgracing yourself!”

She then told Zhu Xuan to call everyone for breakfast. Zhu Xuan dashed off to rouse the family, and soon the whole Zhu clan was awake.

In the room of Zhu Ming and Shen Yun, Zhu Xuan dutifully supported her pregnant mother. Shen Yun studied her second daughter, smiling. “You’re off to school now, and so sensible. It hasn’t been easy.”

She took out her only box of rouge, and dabbed a red dot in the center of Zhu Xuan’s brow. Zhu Xuan reached up to touch it, but Shen Yun scolded her, “Don’t touch it! You’ll mess it up.”

“Mother, what is this?” Zhu Xuan peered at herself in the mirror, curious.

“This is a lucky mark. I give it to you in hopes your mind will be clear as you study—just a little good fortune for your first day,” Shen Yun said, unable to resist patting her daughter’s round head.

Zhu Xuan tilted her head up, “Please don’t mess up the hairstyle Lian-jie did for me.”

She pointed at the red dot on her brow and whispered, “I bet Grandmother never got this when she was little.”

Shen Yun, unable to help herself, gave her a firm smack. Zhu Xuan yelped. Shen Yun’s face grew stern. “How dare you gossip about your elders? Your grandmother had a hard life—she didn’t have the chance to learn, and had to care for the whole family. She’s clever, just not lettered.”

Zhu Xuan nodded. After breakfast, Zhu Ming took her by the hand for her first day at school. Before leaving, Zhu Xuan carefully checked her bag, then happily set off with her father. Though she’d walked this path to the schoolhouse before, today her heart was especially stirred.

Reaching town, they passed her aunt Zhu Qing’s butcher stall. Zhu Qing’s husband, Wang Dashun, was already out selling meat. On seeing Zhu Ming and his daughter, he called out, “Where are you off to so early, taking the child along?”

Zhu Xuan greeted him, “Uncle Wang!” Wang Dashun, seeing Zhu Xuan dressed like a lotus doll, responded warmly. Zhu Ming explained, “I’m taking her to the village school—it’s the first day, and Xuan-niang is six now.”

Wang Dashun’s eyes widened. “Six already? Time flies. Last I saw her, she was just a tiny thing—used to bite my mother-in-law, remember, Xuan-niang?”

Wang Dashun had only two sons—one simple, one bookish. He’d always envied his wife’s family for their lovely daughters, especially fond of teasing Xuan-niang. Xuan-niang just huffed and ignored him; everyone loved to tease her about biting people as a child, though she barely remembered it.

“She’s always been a handful, which is why she needs school to wear down that spirit,” Zhu Ming laughed, then led Zhu Xuan onward. Wang Dashun called after them, “Xuan-niang’s first day at school is a big deal—Ming, come by for some pork on your way back, I’ll save two jin of belly for you.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly!” Zhu Ming called back. This was why he avoided buying meat from his brother-in-law—the man was too generous, giving him meat just because Zhu Qing liked her little brother.

“It’s not for you, it’s for my little niece!” Wang Dashun laughed heartily.

At that moment, Yuan Fengyi came up behind, carrying his school bag. He called out, “Uncle!” Wang Dashun, seeing his nephew’s school attire, realized, “You’re headed to school today too—slipped my mind!”

Just then, a customer arrived. Wiping his hands, Wang Dashun hesitated, but Yuan Fengyi said, “I know the way—it’s close, I can go alone.”

Wang Dashun ignored him, calling to Zhu Ming, “Ming, take this child with you—drop them off together.”

So Zhu Ming returned and took Yuan Fengyi’s hand with his free one. Zhu Xuan glanced at Yuan Fengyi and smiled; he hesitated over how to speak to her, but she had already turned away, cheerfully pulling her father along.

At the schoolhouse, many parents were bringing their children. Zhu Xuan looked up again at the signboard—“Qingyang School”—and her nerves eased a little. She squeezed her father’s callused hand. “Father, let’s go in.”

The schoolhouse was bustling. The school ran on a three-year system, with each year in its own classroom. Zhu Ming, unfamiliar with the place, asked another parent, “Where do first-years go?”

The other parent replied, “Yours are first-years too?” Looking at Zhu Xuan and Yuan Fengyi, he added, “Twins, are they? Brother and sister look alike—how nice.”

The two, who weren’t related in the slightest, exchanged glances, unsure where the resemblance was. Yuan Fengyi was embarrassed to be mistaken for Zhu Xuan’s younger brother, though not as mortified as before—after all, at this age, Zhu Xuan was taller than him.

Zhu Ming hastened to explain, “No, the girl’s mine, the boy’s my elder sister’s son—just bringing them together for convenience.”

The other parent nodded, “Cousins, then. Cousins often look like twins too.”

The “cousins,” still with no blood relation, were left speechless.

As Zhu Ming chatted, his daughter tried to remind him of their purpose, but the other man’s child spoke first. “Father, stop chatting—let’s find the classroom and the teacher.”

Zhu Xuan looked over. The speaker was a girl in red with twin buns, who returned Zhu Xuan’s gaze with a friendly smile, then glanced curiously at the strikingly handsome Yuan Fengyi, thinking, “No wonder they’re cousins—both so good-looking.”

Zhu Ming finished chatting and, leading the two children, spotted Mama Qiao standing nearby, helping keep order with her imposing presence. As Zhu Ming approached, she pointed and barked, “First-years go in there.”

She led the children to the first-year classroom. Huang Caiwei already sat at the front, a portrait of Confucius behind her. Strangely, the moment adults and children reached this room, the chatter ceased and the mood grew solemn.

In schools like this, teachers weren’t formally honored with the ritual of apprenticeship—otherwise, with so many children offering tea, Huang Caiwei would be forced to drink dozens of cups in a row. Instead, the children simply queued to bow to her and then to Confucius’s portrait.

Once all the first-years had arrived and the ceremony was over, Huang Caiwei waved to the curious adults peering in from outside. “Go on home now.”

The parents, all entering the schoolhouse for the first time and curious about a female teacher of such poise, kept glancing at their children, then at the expensive glass windows—marveling at the princess’s generosity.

Even as Huang Caiwei dismissed them, they were reluctant to leave, calling through the windows to give last-minute instructions.

“Huzi, Father’s going home—study hard, and if you cause trouble, I’ll tan your hide!”

“Gouzi, Mother has to go home and cook for your siblings. Teacher, that’s my boy—don’t go easy on him if he acts up!”

...

Zhu Ming also called, “Xuan-niang, Father is heading home. Do your best on your first day, and look after Fengyi.”

Zhu Xuan answered, glancing at Yuan Fengyi in the back. He had already found his peace, blinking quietly, lost in thought.

Next to Yuan Fengyi sat Zhang Xiaowu, the butcher’s son, fidgeting nonstop. Having never seen a boy as refined as Yuan Fengyi, he poked him and asked, “Are you a boy or a girl? How come you look so pretty?”

Yuan Fengyi ignored him, scooting farther away. Zhang Xiaowu continued, “Are you mute?”

Zhu Xuan turned and glared fiercely at Zhang Xiaowu. “Xiaowu, don’t bully my cousin!”

“Huh? He’s your cousin? Looks younger than you,” Zhang Xiaowu muttered.

Zhu Ming watched for a while from outside, still uneasy as he left.

Zhu Xuan’s birthday was just a day before school began. Though all the children were six, she was undoubtedly the youngest in the first-year class. Yuan Fengyi was older, but with his quiet, gentle demeanor, he seemed to need Xuan-niang’s protection.

Zhu Xuan’s desk mate was the red-dressed girl from earlier. Seeing Zhu Xuan, she introduced herself. “I’m Zhu Xuan. I don’t quite know how to write my given name yet. You can call me Xuan-niang. I’m from Reed Village.”

“I’m Chen Qiusheng. You can call me Qiusheng or Qiuniang. I live in Green Duckweed Lane,” the girl replied. Green Duckweed Lane was another village under Qingyang Town, neighboring Reed Village.

After introducing themselves, they felt much closer. Chen Qiusheng pointed to a corner. “Did she come to the wrong classroom? She doesn’t look like a first-year.”

Zhu Xuan looked over. In the corner sat a girl of twelve or thirteen—it was the same Xiuying they’d seen with Teacher Huang earlier. It seemed Teacher Huang had indeed allowed her to attend. Xiuying’s grandmother was still outside, talking to Teacher Huang, deeply moved.

“I know her. She’s Yang Xiuying. Her family sells wonton soup in town every morning and sometimes buys meat from us. That old lady outside is her grandmother. Their wontons are decent, but that Xiuying is a simpleton, always sitting by her grandmother, grinning foolishly,” Zhang Xiaowu piped up.

Zhu Xuan frowned. “How can you call someone a simpleton?”

“If she’s not a simpleton, why would someone so old study with us?” Zhang Xiaowu scoffed.

Zhu Xuan was about to retort when Huang Caiwei finished speaking with Xiuying’s grandmother and entered the classroom. Instantly, everyone fell silent, all eyes turning to their teacher.