Apart from the Shangshu class, which met every other day in the afternoon, Hua Zhi arranged all her other lessons in the morning. She divided her time into two blocks — one for teaching, and one for managing household affairs — so that neither would interfere with the other.

On the first day of formal instruction, the first class was the small group’s lesson on the Analects. Hua Zhi made no deliberate effort to dress the part of a teacher; instead, she wore a plain, light-colored outfit, her long hair loosely pinned, with not a single ornament on her person. Since she could not sit cross-legged on the floor the way a man might, she knelt with her legs folded neatly beneath her.

The nine little turnip-heads stared wide-eyed at the figure who walked up to the front of the room — their sister… ahem, their teacher — waiting for her to speak. Brother Bailin had told them that anyone who misbehaved would be dealt with.

Hua Zhi swept her gaze across them and smiled. In this era where people married at sixteen or seventeen, children tended to be precocious.

The Hua Family’s founding ancestor, in order to ensure the fortitude of future generations, had established several hundred family rules, one of which stipulated that children must leave their mothers’ sides after the age of two. Brothers of similar age would live together — four to a courtyard — attended only by manservants, with maidservants forbidden from approaching without explicit permission. Children raised this way naturally carried far less of a pampered, sheltered air, and no one could fill their heads with ideas unsuited to their years. Though they were still precocious, they were far less scheming for it.

It was also because of this that even the illegitimate sons of the Hua Family rarely had poor reputations — her Fourth Uncle’s sort was already considered a rare aberration.

Thinking of Fourth Uncle, Hua Zhi’s expression dimmed slightly. She set aside these stray thoughts, opened her book, and spread out her prepared notes.

She had never been a teacher before, but after so many years as a student, she had picked up a thing or two from observation. Preparing a lesson was no great challenge.

“We’ve had a bit of a gap, so there’s no need to rush into new material. Let us first review what we’ve already covered…”

Hua Zhi spoke in an unhurried, gentle voice, a faint smile never leaving her face. She quickly won over these children who had been separated from their mothers at such a young age. Whenever she posed a question, they would blink eagerly, their eyes practically screaming pick me, pick me. They were still young, and had not yet formed any notion that a woman could not serve as a teacher. Without any need for Hua Bailin’s threats, they accepted this female teacher swiftly and without complaint.

Master Mu stood outside the door and listened for a short while before he could see clearly: the eldest young miss of the Hua Family did not act until she was ready, and when she did, the results were remarkable. Even he would have to admit that he could not have made the time-honored Analects this accessible, this vivid, this easy to understand.

Every year, the capital held evaluations of talented young men and women, and he had once looked through their poetry out of curiosity. There were fine works among them, to be sure, but most did not live up to their reputations — forced, contrived verses lamenting sorrows the writers had never truly felt. Such poetry could not compare to the eldest young miss’s genuine mastery of the texts. That was true talent.

Winning over the older class was no great effort either. The Shangshu was essentially a history text, and she had already been telling Bailin stories drawn from it for years — when she ran out of actual material, she simply invented more. With that foundation, she made the dense, abstruse Shangshu come alive with flavor and intrigue. Master Mu went to eavesdrop a few more times, and afterward went back to pore through the book himself, unable to find any trace of all that rich, fascinating content she seemed to draw from it so effortlessly.

There were students who might have wanted to be difficult, but before they had even figured out where to pick a fight, they found themselves completely absorbed. By the time class ended and Hua Zhi had already left, they suddenly remembered what they had meant to do — and could only scratch their heads and slink off to face their scoldings.

The Old Madam specifically sent Nanny Su to ask Master Mu about things. Master Mu said only that it was no wonder she had been personally taught by the old master — he himself had learned a great deal. Curious, the Old Madam had Nanny Su help her to the family school to listen in for a while. When she left, she felt somehow lighter on her feet. She had originally worried that the eldest young miss had only taken on the role because she could not find anyone else and was merely putting on a brave face — but now it seemed she had been too modest about herself. From the children’s reactions alone, it was plain to see that this female teacher had not stirred any discontent. Whatever dissatisfaction might have arisen, Zhi’er had dissolved it without anyone even noticing.

Having inner confidence is what gave Zhi’er this self-assurance, the Old Madam thought to herself. How wonderful. If the Hua Family had a few more like Zhi’er, she could truly rest easy.

Her steps paused. The Old Madam asked with lively interest, “I recall the second and third young misses both have some reputation for talent. How do you find them compared to the eldest young miss?”

Nanny Su privately did not think much of the comparison, but could hardly say so plainly. She offered a vague reply: “To have earned the name of talented young misses, they are certainly not without merit.”

The Old Madam, having developed an unprecedented faith in the Hua Family’s young women, did not catch the evasiveness in her words. She smiled until the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deepened. “When you go back, mention to Zhi’er that the second and third young misses should try their hand at it too. Not necessarily to become teachers — but if they could step in and help when Zhi’er is busy, that would be a good thing.”

Nanny Su had not expected the Old Madam to have this idea. She tried gently to redirect her thinking. “Changing teachers too often is never ideal. The way I see it, the young masters are quite fond of the eldest young miss — a different person might not produce the same effect.”

“It’s all within the family, after all. There’s no harm in trying.” The Old Madam tilted her head to look at the sky, her voice mild. “We know that Zhi’er has made many arrangements during this time, with an eye to the long-term future rather than immediate gain — but the others don’t. They only assume that this old woman of mine is playing favorites with the eldest branch, with Zhi’er as my eldest grandchild. If that’s the case, I ought at least to give them a chance to shine. If they seize it, that’s their own ability. If they fall short, they can blame heaven, earth, or themselves — but they cannot lay it at my door or at Zhi’er’s.”

“You are most thoughtful.”

“I have to think carefully. Zhi’er’s eyes are fixed on the grand picture — she thinks only of great matters and does not concern herself with these small things. Someone has to think of them for her. Who knows? Perhaps it will bring her an extra pair of helping hands.”

“Yes, that is what I hope for as well.”

A few days later than expected, Xu Jie finally returned.

Compared to when he had left, Xu Jie was noticeably thinner, but his eyes were bright and his spirits high. He bowed before the eldest young miss. “This servant pays his respects to the eldest young miss.”

“Rise quickly.” Hua Zhi offered a light gesture to help him up. From his bearing alone, she could already tell the trip had yielded a rich harvest. “Did things go smoothly?”

Xu Jie was excited, but he did not forget his place. He kept his gaze lowered, his manner deferential. “Following your instructions, this servant traveled to the Jiangnan region. Just as you said, tangerines there are abundant and the prices extremely low. Since I was a stranger, the locals did not trust me at first, so I first presented generous gifts to pay my respects and make connections. Afterward, I paid half a deposit to a reputable shipping company there to rent a large vessel. With the ship as surety, the locals trusted me. Using the remaining silver, I bought up a portion of loose goods. For those with large orchards, I paid only a deposit and invited them to travel with the ship to the capital, where they will settle accounts after the goods are unloaded, then return with the ship.”

“You didn’t hire escorts?”

“There was no need. The large vessel had more than twenty crew members in all, and the cargo itself is not precious — water bandits would not bother with it.”

Hua Zhi gave a small nod, mentally estimating the size of the ship. Travel along the canal was different from sea routes — the canal’s current was gentle and the risks low. For a vessel of the same size, canal ships required far fewer crew than oceangoing ships. Yet even so, with more than twenty crew members, this was likely one of the largest vessels the canal could accommodate.

“How much silver is still short?”

“Two hundred and eighty taels.”

“Including the remaining ship fees?”

“Yes. Here is the account ledger — please review it, eldest young miss.”

Nianqiu took the ledger, looked it over, and gave a nod to her mistress.

This was actually less than she had anticipated. Hua Zhi rose to her feet. “Wait for me a moment — I’ll go with you to the port to take a look.”

“Yes, miss.”