Just as Old Qin was thinking he probably had some talent, feeling regret for his short-sighted behavior of marrying into a merchant family as a live-in son-in-law, Ning Yi had already entered Yushan Academy in the morning sunlight, beginning preparations to spend the entire morning teaching a group of children the Analects¹.

Yushan Academy wasn't opened in a place called Yushan—this was a private school run by the Su family. Of course it also accepted outsiders with some connections, but the academy wasn't large—mainly because not many came to study. As for Yushan, it was the name of a mountain at the Su family's ancestral home.

Yushan Academy was located on a street not far from the Su family compound. It wasn't a street dense with shops, so the environment was quite peaceful. Gray tiles and white walls enclosed it, with a small bamboo grove and a sign reading "Yushan Academy" written by some great scholar hung up—it had some scholarly atmosphere.

The academy currently had forty-nine students total, with seven teachers including the academy's headmaster Su Chonghua. Proportionally speaking, the teaching resources could be called abundant. Su Chonghua himself was from the Su family. He'd passed the provincial examinations²in his early years and served as an official for several years, but unfortunately he had no achievements, and there were even rumors he'd gotten into trouble. Additionally, there were two elders with government experience hired at high salaries. Besides teachers and students, there were also several servants like cooks and handymen.

The Su family had put great effort into this academy, but unfortunately, either these teachers weren't very reliable, or this group of students happened to all be dull-witted—the academy had never produced any results. Students previously cultivated, after realizing they had no hope in the imperial examinations, mostly entered the Su family's shops to work. Therefore this academy's nature seemed more like a technical institute. If families truly wanted their children to take the path of imperial examinations and becoming officials, they'd mostly transfer their children to better academies before age twelve.

Ning Yi had been teaching here for three days, and Su Chonghua treated him well, not making things difficult because of his live-in son-in-law status. People who'd struggled in society for a long time and become seasoned had no need to do such boring things, and considering that Ning Yi actually had no scholarly talent—everyone said so—he was assigned to teach a dozen children who'd just finished basic education. This group totaled sixteen children, aged between six and twelve, among them even two little girls with braided hair, all relatives of the Su family, letting them learn to read. The previous teacher had finished teaching the Classic of Filial Piety³and started on the Analects. Ning Yi taught them for a fixed morning each day, while afternoons were more relaxed—ritual, music, archery, charioteering, arithmetic and such, mainly arithmetic. The rest depended entirely on the teacher's mood and ability.

If at better, more formal schools, these things would be more standardized and detailed, but Yushan Academy obviously didn't have such conditions. For Ning Yi, teaching the Analects was actually quite simple. He certainly couldn't recite the entire Analects or say approximately where a certain line was, but if only required to read and give simple explanations, that was really the easiest thing. Any modern person with high school education could spend some time and perhaps give a plausible explanation of the Analects—of course, in vernacular.

Although in ancient times, true great scholars' research of the Four Books and Five Classics⁴was still quite profound—the profound parts were especially profound. Perhaps an ancient text written by a famous courtesan could make modern professors ashamed. However, most scholars had no opportunity to receive overly profound education. They might not even find a copy of Mencius after finishing the Analects. But the minimum standard for teachers was simple—put plainly, being able to teach literacy was enough. Ning Yi's predecessor was like this. He taught a group of children to read while swaying their heads, and when the mood struck, he'd give the most basic explanation of the text's meaning. After a period, he'd require students to strictly recite or write from memory a passage—this was the exam, and those who couldn't got their palms struck.

Things were very simple, and Ning Yi didn't plan to change too much. For the first hour, he had the group of students read the Analects while swaying their heads—actually reading continuously for two hours made Ning Yi feel painful, but these children were used to it anyway. For the next two hours, Ning Yi used the first half to begin explaining one chapter's content, then digressed freely, telling some stories, talking about current events, also giving these children some relaxation.

This group of children was easy to teach, and although it had only been three days, Ning Yi could already clearly feel the atmosphere of absolute teacher authority in the classroom. These current children had no personality whatsoever, and children without personality were the cutest—they cherished the opportunity to study, weren't mischievous or rebellious. If something small happened and you spanked a child's bottom swollen, they'd still think it natural. Simply a teacher's paradise, and Ning Yi taught very comfortably. In just three days, telling some meanings and stories each day made these children completely satisfied. And telling these things, Ning Yi didn't even need to prepare lesson plans or anything—just going with the flow was fine.

This day he began explaining the Analects passage about "Wealth and rank are what people desire..."⁵From methods of obtaining wealth he talked to the way of commerce, interspersing explanations like "gentlemen love wealth but obtain it properly." Ning Yi had done this in his previous life. Not discussing ancient texts, if purely expressing some thoughts, it was enough to lecture doctoral students in modern universities—but these were children under twelve. After casually mentioning a few points he said no more, just giving a few small examples to joke around. Then he talked about the Puyuan Poetry Gathering's six connected boats, then talked about the Battle of Red Cliff⁶, beginning to tell the children the story of Red Cliff.

At this time, stories about the Three Kingdoms mainly came from Chen Shou's Records of the Three Kingdoms⁷, which Ning Yi hadn't read. He told the Romance of the Three Kingdoms⁸version, which modern versions had polished through various artistic works—full of interest and satisfaction. From Cao Cao's eight hundred thousand troops going south to Zhou Yu deceiving Huang Gai, the chain-linked ships, borrowing arrows with straw boats⁹—a group of children who normally hadn't heard many stories all had red faces, incomparably excited, occasionally speaking up: "Teacher, teacher, what happened next..." Halfway through, these children finally quieted down because Headmaster Su Chonghua was walking beside the classroom, hands behind his back, standing there expressionlessly. But even so, it couldn't change the excited expressions on these children's faces.

Since Ning Yi had already started telling it, naturally he wouldn't be distracted by such small matters and continued telling the story. When it was nearly noon, he'd just finished the fire attack on the chain-linked ships. Su Chonghua had been standing outside listening the whole time—hard to say exactly what expression he had. After Ning Yi finished the story, he wrote his favorite poem by Du Mu, "Red Cliff," on rice paper:

A broken halberd, sunk in the sand, the iron not yet rusted away, I myself take it to grind and wash, and recognize a former dynasty. If the east wind had not given Zhou Yu a helping hand, The Spring would have been deep in the Bronze Bird Terrace, with the two Qiao ladies locked away.¹⁰

Teaching had no blackboard, making writing things very inconvenient. Ning Yi now had some passion for his teaching career. While writing he thought he should "invent" a whiteboard or something—using charcoal to write would be better than sand trays. After he finished writing, the group of students busily copied it on paper, and walking outside, Su Chonghua approached, his expressionless face also showing a smile.

"Worthy nephew has great talent, actually having deep research into Three Kingdoms and Wei-Jin history. That story just now must have been taken from Chen Shou's Three Kingdoms?"

If Old Qin were here, he might scold Ning Yi several times, saying he was making things up and misleading students. Actually the real Records of the Three Kingdoms wasn't nearly this exciting—for instance, the borrowing arrows with straw boats section was actually Sun Quan who sailed out for a stroll and got shot by arrows. One side of the ship had too many arrows stuck in it and almost capsized. So Sun Quan ordered the ship turned around to use the other side to receive arrows, balancing the ship's weight before sailing away triumphantly. Ning Yi had only watched TV dramas of Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and Su Chonghua hadn't read Records of the Three Kingdoms either. Just now he'd been behind listening to Ning Yi's story like listening to a storyteller, listening with enjoyment. Now he came over praising his extensive knowledge, saying the story was captivating.

However, after praising a few sentences, he also hinted indirectly not to be so polite with these children. If Ning Yi were already a fifty or sixty-year-old scholar, the other probably wouldn't say these things. But since he looked only in his early twenties, without much facial hair, he needed to be stricter with these children to show a teacher's dignity. Obviously he was dissatisfied with Ning Yi teaching an Analects class but telling Three Kingdoms stories, especially telling them so vividly, just like a teahouse storyteller. Ning Yi nodded and accepted the teaching humbly and respectfully, then turned around and acted like he hadn't heard.

Afterward Su Chonghua invited him to have lunch at the academy. Generally speaking, ordinary small households ate two meals daily, and some couldn't even afford two meals. But the Su family had abundant wealth and had added a lunch, though it wasn't formal—sometimes replaced with pastries, so Ning Yi politely declined the invitation and went home to change clothes. He then gave them to Xiao Chan to wash and return to Old Qin, not telling her about falling in the river to avoid her making a fuss and finding a bunch of medicine for him to take. During these days Ning Yi taught at the academy, Xiao Chan no longer followed him constantly, having free mornings to handle other matters.

In the afternoon, he went to play chess by the Qinhuai River again, and actually Old Qin was also an odd person. Ning Yi had previously felt he'd probably been an official. Going to his home this morning further confirmed this understanding—many stylistic furnishings in that home couldn't belong to ordinary people. Adding his conversation and perspective—such a person actually ran to the riverside every day to set up a chess stall. It was really strange.

When he arrived today, another old man was already there playing chess with Old Qin. The old man's surname was Kang, similar age to Old Qin, from a well-off family with an old master's style—going out dressed in gold and jade, bringing two pageboys and two maids to clear the way. This fellow had a stern appearance and rather caustic tongue, but his chess skill was very high. Every time he saw Ning Yi he'd criticize his chess style as "simply vulgar," "completely lacking a gentleman's demeanor," "how can you pester so shamelessly," "detestable youngster." Then turning around, he'd absorb this chess style, modify it slightly and battle Old Qin. Actually Old Qin's level was even higher—after absorbing a new way of thinking, he'd modify it to have no trace of smoke and fire.

Coming here, Ning Yi had met quite a few people—ordinary people, children without much education, or those who'd received some education but still had rigid thinking were many. Whether calling them pedantic or honest, their perspective and way of thinking indeed weren't as flexible as modern people. But at higher levels, they weren't inferior to modern people—for example Old Qin, verbally saying nothing but naturally digesting in his heart things he found novel, pondering the ideas and principles within. This Old Kang was full of propriety, righteousness, integrity and shame, benevolence and morality. But when really playing chess, he was still ruthless and black-hearted, unconstrained by anything. Of course, if not for people like Ning Yi or Old Qin, perhaps others couldn't see his ruthless aspects. He was just slightly inferior to Old Qin, though compared to ordinary people, he was still much higher.

Old Qin and several chess friends had recently often researched Ning Yi's chess style—after all, suddenly seeing these novel playing methods still had research value. Ning Yi had no thoughts of going easy on the old men, sometimes ignoring Old Kang's glaring, sometimes exchanging a few words: "You old man, saying one thing and doing another—not a good person." "This move—you dare play it? Play it! Try playing it!" Normally there probably weren't any youngsters who dared talk back to Old Kang, and the two would have small arguments by the chess stall. Old Qin would laugh beside them—if Old Kang was playing against him, he'd say "Liheng makes a good point." If the opponent was Ning Yi, he'd help denounce Ning Yi's move as too underhanded.

But even if they argued, there was no real malice between them—Old Kang initially indeed treated Ning Yi as an ignorant youngster to lecture. Later he understood this fellow indeed qualified as an opponent, and the other also completely naturally didn't place himself in a youngster's position. No matter what, after Old Kang came he always brought a pot of good tea. He had servants bring their own tea implements, tea leaves, and water, and the maid would brew it at a table at the nearby tea stall. Ning Yi wasn't polite—getting a cup himself, moving a stool to sit by the chessboard. After a moment, taking a sip: "Oh, Old Kang's going to lose."

The old man was calculating moves in his mind, eyebrows raising: "What does a youngster with no facial hair know about winning or losing? Drinking this old man's tea yet daring to say such things... Hmph, this old man has a brilliant move..."

He raised his hand to place a piece when Ning Yi coughed lightly. The old man's hand immediately stopped, looking suspiciously several times before withdrawing as Ning Yi took another sip of tea: "This cup of tea is worth just this much... Mm, what tea is this?"

"Ignorant youngster, truly wasting heaven's gifts. Ever heard of Purple Bamboo Shoots?"¹¹

Old Qin was also tasting tea over there, laughing at this moment: "Guzhu Purple Bamboo Shoots, good tea. Just brewing it on the street like this is somewhat wasteful. Had I known he'd bring this tea today, we should have played this game at home."

But Old Kang didn't care, and having finally thought of a move, he placed the chess piece: "Tea is just for drinking. Everyone's chess interest is strong, and we're like-minded. So we drink this tea together—that's what's most important. Tea is just a dead thing, born to please you and me. If you and I feel it's worth drinking, then it has value. What's there to regret?"

"Old Kang's words sound quite impressive, like a big shot."

"What big shot? This old man..."

"This old man, you've lost."

"Uh..."

Ning Yi patted his shoulder and stood up smiling—at this time the scenery by the Qinhuai River was pleasant. He carried his teacup and walked away while behind him Old Qin had already laughingly placed a piece. Old Kang said: "How can this be..."

"Haha, originally seeing you brought good tea today, I wanted to muddle a few moves and secretly lose a game. But these words had such bearing—gentlemen interacting should indeed be like this. This old man doesn't want to be pretentious anymore. Hahaha..."

Old Kang was obviously dissatisfied about bringing tea yet losing chess, but having lost was lost—he still acknowledged it. He called Ning Yi back and everyone reviewed the game together, then afterward it was still Old Kang playing Old Qin. During this, Old Qin mentioned Ning Yi's amusing incident of falling in the river to save someone and getting slapped that morning. Ning Yi inevitably got gloatingly mocked by Old Kang. Later they heard these two old men discussing how the north had been invaded by Liao forces again recently.

The late autumn sunlight was still bright, but wind picked up on the Qinhuai River in the afternoon, and after finishing this game, the time was already getting late. Everyone went home.

Because he'd been blown by wind for half an afternoon that day, when Ning Yi got up the next morning, he felt his head was somewhat fuzzy—wondering if he'd caught a cold.

(End of Chapter)