Chapter 7

Zhu Xuan leapt lightly from the little mule, her face radiant with newfound joy, and flew into Shen Yun’s arms like a gust of wind, hugging her mother carefully. “Mother, I’m back.”

Shen Yun raised her hand, intending to give her wayward second daughter a scolding slap, but Zhu Xuan’s soft, tender voice melted her resolve. Her hand landed gently instead, patting Zhu Xuan twice, unable to follow through with real anger.

Still, her words were reproachful: “You’re not a child anymore, yet you keep making us worry. Because of you, the whole family can’t find peace.”

Zhu Xuan pressed her cheek against Shen Yun’s hand, then looked toward Old Madam Sun, her expression especially sincere. “Grandmother, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have run off in a fit of anger and made everyone worry.”

Old Madam Sun blinked twice and turned away, ignoring Zhu Xuan. Zhu Xuan’s anger had faded, but the old lady’s hadn’t—she refused to play the role of doting grandmother at this moment.

Grandmother didn’t respond, but Zhu Xuan didn’t mind. Her apology was cunning: she only apologized for running off, not conceding that her argument with Madam Sun was unreasonable.

Her thoughts drifted to the scene at Qingyang Elementary just now, where Teacher Huang told her she had already received her “first lesson.”

At the time, Zhu Xuan was surprised. In her mind, a “lesson” meant reading and writing, but Teacher Huang’s words had never covered those topics.

Teacher Huang had said: “A teacher’s role is to impart principles, teach skills, and resolve doubts. Teaching is not confined to literacy and knowledge. If a person’s heart is timid and lacks conviction, all the learning in the world is like water without a source.

“In this era, girls who seek education are hindered by innate barriers of the heart. Countless schools can enlighten girls’ minds, yet few can awaken their spirits. Learning only knowledge may lift illiteracy, but blindness of the heart is harder to cure.

“I may have the means to teach the illiterate, but not always to enlighten the heart.

“I do not claim to be more learned than others—I am ordinary in knowledge and cleverness. But I believe I have broken my own inner barriers and used my learning to seize opportunities and carve out a path for myself.

“Zhu Xuan, you are a promising talent—naturally unbound, with a spirit difficult to restrain. Those who carry their own heart’s barriers may see you as rebellious, but I value your self-awareness. Even if you are now a girl who cannot read a word, you have not yet developed those inner obstacles. My words only make your mind clearer. This is why you must study.”

Grandmother not only had no name, but seemed the very kind of “heart-bound” person Teacher Huang described. Her dislike of Zhu Xuan could thus be explained: her own blindness prevented her from seeing Zhu Xuan’s merits, or even her own as a woman.

Thinking this way, Zhu Xuan found herself less troubled by Grandmother’s bias and coldness, even if it was innate.

“Aunt, Cousin,” Zhu Xuan greeted Zhu Qing and her son politely, then noticed Yuan Fengyi, who had come with them.

She didn’t recognize him and simply moved on.

Just as Zhu Xuan noticed the unfamiliar face of Yuan Fengyi, the Zhu family also noticed the unfamiliar, scholarly woman riding the little mule who had brought Zhu Xuan home.

Huang Caiwei’s attire and bearing were unlike those of a peasant, yet she didn’t resemble the wealthy gentry either. The scholarly aura she exuded was certainly not that of a trickster or a child-snatcher.

The Zhu family, with limited exposure, couldn’t discern her identity at a glance and remained cautiously respectful, uncertain how to greet her. But Huang Caiwei took the initiative.

With a gentle smile, she introduced herself: “I am the new teacher at Qingyang Elementary—Huang Caiwei. I’ve just returned from the capital to my hometown. Today, while familiarizing myself with the school, I happened to meet young Zhu Xuan, so I brought her home.”

Her words carried an overwhelming amount of information: a female teacher from the capital, meeting Zhu Xuan at the school.

The Zhu family was briefly stunned.

Old Zhu recovered first, surprised at the notion of a female teacher, but recognizing that she spoke the truth—her bearing marked her as a learned woman, the school was nearby, and such a lie would be easily exposed.

He forced a smile. Had Xuan gone to the school? So she did wish to study after all. His original thought, shared with his wife, was that Zhu Xuan might or might not go to school, and preferably not.

But now the teacher herself had come to the door—clearly, things had changed.

Huang Caiwei had accompanied Zhu Xuan home partly out of concern for a young girl walking the two-mile road alone, and partly because she had promised Zhu Xuan’s attendance at the school.

She looked over the Zhu family’s adults and their cluster of children, quickly surmising the cause of Zhu Xuan’s difficulties in attending school. With precision, she turned to the head of the household, Old Master Zhu Dajiang. “May I have a word with you?”

Zhu Xuan watched as Teacher Huang entered her own home. She looked up, thinking: Teacher Huang will surely find a way to let me study.

The adults had matters to discuss. Zhu Ming told the eldest child, Wang An, “An, take your younger siblings out to play. I’ll call you back for dinner.”

Wang An glanced curiously at the suddenly-appeared female teacher, but nodded obediently and led the children out.

Zhu Xuan wanted to stay and see how Teacher Huang would negotiate with her family, but Shen Yun shot her a look. “Xuan, you go out too.”

Zhu Xuan tried to act spoiled, but Shen Yun’s gentle voice carried a hint of menace: “We’ll settle your running off later.”

So Zhu Xuan scurried out at once, leaving only the youngest, Zhu Di, inside.

There wasn’t much to do in the countryside, but the scenery was pleasant everywhere. After some thought, the group of children decided to head for the reed marsh.

Old Zhang, the boatman, had just finished his morning work tying up the boats. Seeing the children sitting among the reeds by the water, he called out, “You kids always flock to the water’s edge.”

Zhu Xuan, most familiar with Old Zhang, replied, “It’s not as if we can’t swim. Grandpa Zhang, can we sit on your boat?”

Old Zhang’s children had died in the wars, leaving him alone. He made a living ferrying travelers and liked children like Zhu Xuan. He instructed, “Don’t break anything. Even if you can swim, don’t play in the water too long. And don’t untie my boat and row off on your own. There are some lotus roots at the bow—help yourselves to a couple.”

With that, he went home to eat, truly leaving the boat to the children.

Zhu Tang’s eyes widened. “Xuan, he really let us have the boat? You must be something! Out playing day after day, you’ve really made some connections!”

Zhu Xuan lifted her chin proudly. “Of course! Let me take you all for a boat ride!”

She grabbed her cousin Wang An’s hand. “Cousin, you go first!” Wang An, who’d always lived quietly in town studying, had never relaxed like this in the countryside. He found it novel but a bit childish, hesitated, then climbed aboard.

One after another, the children hopped onto the boat. Zhu Ying hung back, a little afraid.

Wang An, the eldest, freed a hand and helped Ying onto the boat. Yuan Fengyi, standing behind her, didn’t move.

So Wang An asked, “Cousin, are you afraid too?”

This was only the second time Zhu Xuan had noticed Yuan Fengyi. Hearing Wang An call him cousin, and seeing his gloomy expression, she mimicked Wang An’s tone. “Cousin, come on up!”

Yuan Fengyi finally reacted, staring at Zhu Xuan in disbelief. His expression grew a little angry, and he stomped his short legs up onto the boat, sitting beside Zhu Xuan and staring at her intently. “How old are you?”

Zhu Xuan turned to look at him properly. He had fine lips, a sculpted nose, clear eyes with slightly drooping outer corners lending him an innocent air, and long lashes—like a fairy child from a folktale.

But Zhu Xuan, still young herself, accepted his beauty as a matter of course. “I’ll be six in a few days. Why?”

Yuan Fengyi looked as if he’d caught her in a transgression. He snorted. “I’m already six. I was born in the first month.”

“Oh.” Zhu Xuan turned away, spotted the lotus roots at the prow, rinsed one in the water, broke it in half, and handed him a piece. “Here, have some. It’s delicious.”

She thought she was simply looking after a new friend. Yuan Fengyi stared blankly as he took the lotus root, feeling as if he’d punched cotton. He persisted, “You can’t call me cousin, I’m older than you!”

He didn’t mind being called mute by Ying, but Zhu Xuan thinking herself older annoyed him.

Zhu Xuan ignored that, only asking, “Are you eating or not?”

Annoyed, he couldn’t help but take a bite. The crisp, sweet lotus root delighted him, and he insisted, “Even if you share with me, I’m still older.”

Munching on her own piece, Zhu Xuan mumbled through a mouthful, “Then stand up and let’s see.”

Puzzled, Fengyi stood. Zhu Xuan hopped up too, making the boat rock slightly. The other children, chewing their lotus root, shouted, “Zhu Xuan!”

Once upright, Fengyi realized what she meant. Zhu Xuan was half a head taller. His face reddened. “I’m not grown up yet. When I am, I’ll be taller than you…”

Zhu Xuan pulled him back down, laughed, and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Yuan Fengyi.”

“Alright, I’ll just call you Fengyi then. Is that okay?”

He nodded. As long as this younger girl didn’t call him cousin, he didn’t mind being called Fengyi. “I know your name’s Zhu Xuan.”

Zhu Xuan nodded, then turned to Wang An. “Cousin, your new cousin is both handsome and interesting.”

To her surprise, Zhu Tang and the others stared at her in amazement, all curious how she’d gotten the “mute” to say so much. Previously, when they played with him, he’d scarcely spoken a word.

“What is it? Why are you all looking at me?” Zhu Xuan was baffled.

The others shook their heads, even little Zhu Ying, who knew better than to call someone mute to their face—especially since Yuan Fengyi clearly wasn’t.

The children hid among the reeds and lotus blossoms on Old Zhang’s boat, chatting happily and munching lotus root. After a while, they heard someone calling, “An! Tang! Bring your brothers and sisters home for dinner!”

They hurried off the boat, tidied up for the old man, and headed home.

By the time they returned, Teacher Huang had already left. The adults all looked at Zhu Xuan, who glanced around anxiously. “Where’s Teacher Huang?”

Shen Yun replied, “We asked her to stay for dinner, but she insisted on leaving, rode off on her mule.”

What did that sigh mean? What had Teacher Huang discussed with the adults? Zhu Xuan nervously looked at Zhu Ming.

“Xuan…” Old Zhu, sitting on his stool with his pipe, finally spoke. For the first time, he studied his second granddaughter carefully—she did look clever.

“After your birthday, you may go to school.”