Having just come from the bare, starving world outside the city walls into this world of fine clothes, rich food, and boundless comfort, Li Diudiu still felt as though he was dreaming.
When would he wake up from this dream? He’d open his eyes and Shifu would be standing right in front of him, pulling the straw out of his hair, asking if he was hungry.
Not hungry? Good. Hungry? Just endure it.
Walking along the academy’s paths and watching the disciples coming and going, Li Diudiu still didn’t feel like he belonged among them.
The four of them had their classroom next to the small lake, with a grove of trees just beside it—and the classroom sitting in front of the grove.
When Li Diudiu arrived, he discovered he was the last one there. Zhang Xiaolin and Sun Rugong had gone early to the dining hall on purpose to humiliate him—that was understandable—but even the seemingly still-clinging-to-his-mother Liu Shengying had arrived so early, which was a little unexpected.
The four of them had clearly divided into three factions. Zhang Xiaolin and Sun Rugong stood together chatting, throwing glances at Li Diudiu from time to time, their eyes full of contempt. The two of them were whispering back and forth—nothing good, Li Diudiu assumed.
Liu Shengying stood timidly alone in the doorway, looking from Li Diudiu to Zhang Xiaolin and back, not knowing which side to choose—wearing an expression of grievance as though all three had been bullying him.
They stood around like this for quite a while. When class time was nearly upon them, Instructor Yan Qingzhi finally arrived at an unhurried pace, books in hand. At the sight of him approaching, all four of Li Diudiu’s group bowed in greeting.
Yan Qingzhi looked them over, then tossed the key to Li Diudiu: “From now on, you must be the first to arrive. Opening the door is your responsibility. Before I arrive, have hot water ready—I need to brew tea.”
Li Diudiu caught the key and said nothing.
Being given this key meant not only arriving first every day, but also being the last to leave.
They opened the classroom and went in. Yan Qingzhi settled into the rattan chair, crossing his legs in a manner that no respectable person would find acceptable—considered crude and ill-mannered—hardly fitting for an academy instructor. On one side of the room the desks and chairs were plentiful; the four students could sit wherever they liked. Zhang Xiaolin and Sun Rugong sat side by side in the front row. Li Diudiu also took the front row, but chose a side seat by the window.
Liu Shengying deliberated for a long time, his eyes growing redder and redder as though simply choosing where to sit was an unbearable ordeal. In the end he settled in the second row—alone, looking thoroughly aggrieved.
“Are you afraid you’ll frighten me?” Yan Qingzhi glanced at Liu Shengying. “Why sit so far back?”
Liu Shengying burst into tears with a loud cry.
Yan Qingzhi frowned. He was about to say more, but after a moment’s thought decided it wasn’t worth wasting words on such a child.
“As is the tradition at the Four-Page Academy, the first lesson does not concern knowledge—it concerns character.”
Yan Qingzhi settled back in his chair and tapped the desk with his teaching rod: “Li Chi, go fetch water.”
Li Diudiu was taken aback.
He stood up. “Instructor, haven’t classes just begun?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
Yan Qingzhi’s tone was flat, yet every word felt like a concealed blade. “A poor person can still acquire knowledge—though having knowledge doesn’t necessarily help a poor person. But a poor person need not listen to a lesson on conduct. Among the poor, upright conduct will not necessarily earn you respect—but it will certainly get you taken advantage of. Among the wealthy, whether a poor person has upright conduct is irrelevant—because you are not one of them.”
Li Diudiu suppressed his fury. From the very first day he entered the academy, this self-proclaimed top-tier instructor of the academy had been calling him “poor person” without stop.
Li Diudiu stood there staring at Yan Qingzhi for a good while. Yan Qingzhi stared back, then asked: “Do you have something to say? Are you going to ask why a poor person doesn’t deserve to learn good conduct?”
Li Diudiu let out a slow breath and shook his head. “I wanted to ask the instructor—where is the water room?”
Yan Qingzhi’s eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn’t expected Li Diudiu to hold back even now, so he answered curtly and irritably: “Find it yourself.”
Zhang Xiaolin and Sun Rugong both laughed at the same time. And what the two had been whispering to each other was precisely related to this.
Zhang Xiaolin had been beaten—and that very evening his family had gone to visit Instructor Yan Qingzhi, presenting many gifts, and begging him to expel Li Diudiu from the academy by any means necessary.
Though Zhang Xiaolin’s family had some power and influence, the academy had its own rules: even an instructor could not privately expel a student who had committed no offense. The only option was to force Li Diudiu to leave on his own.
Zhang Xiaolin lowered his voice near Sun Rugong’s ear. “You see? I told you—the instructor was never going to give him a pleasant expression. This way, it won’t be long before that wretch leaves on his own. The academy was never a place for someone like him to begin with. A toad among dragons…”
Sun Rugong laughed and nodded. “You’re right. But look at him—he’s completely thick-skinned, clearly not planning to budge. Maybe we should…”
He leaned close to Zhang Xiaolin’s ear. “After class, tell the instructor you’d like him to come to the lakeside grove—say there’s something urgent you need to tell him. Then we get Li Chi riled up. Last time he hit you, that was because the headmaster was intentionally testing your fighting skills. This time is different…”
He smiled. “The academy has rules: students who get into fights—regardless of the reason—are expelled from the academy. It’s conduct unbecoming of a respectable student. After you start a fight with Li Chi in the grove and the instructor shows up, you just pretend to be getting the worse of it and let him hit you a few times. The instructor accepted your family’s gifts—he won’t do anything to you.”
Zhang Xiaolin was immediately impressed. He thought: Sun Rugong truly deserved to be his friend. This plan was brilliant.
Li Diudiu picked up the water kettle and walked out of the classroom. He glanced back and saw Yan Qingzhi reclining there, legs crossed, lazily saying something that was probably just perfunctory filler. That man looked nothing like a top-tier instructor by any measure.
Li Diudiu had spotted the water room the previous day. When Yan Qingzhi had humiliated him just now, he had genuinely stood up intending to argue back—but in that split second he’d thought of Shifu. Shifu had given everything to get him into the academy, told him not to cause trouble. So he’d held back.
He went to the water room, filled the kettle with hot water, and carried it back. The rattan kettle he held was something of a small luxury by ordinary household standards—it could hold heat. Of course it didn’t stay warm all that long.
For common families in times like these, every avoidable expense was avoided.
He returned with the water—but Yan Qingzhi had already come out of the classroom with his books. He glanced at Li Diudiu. “Why did it take so long? I’ve already finished my lesson and you’re only just coming back with the water. Next time run both ways.”
Li Diudiu drew a slow breath and nodded. “Noted, Instructor.”
“Don’t address yourself as ‘student.’ You’re not one yet.”
After saying this, Yan Qingzhi stepped forward. Li Diudiu looked down at the kettle in his hand and asked: “Isn’t the instructor going to brew tea?”
Yan Qingzhi, without looking back, said: “I’m afraid that tea brewed with water you fetched will absorb the smell of poverty. Consider the first kettle a chance for you to wash your own stench away. Leave it.”
Then he walked off.
Li Diudiu was only eleven years old. He stood there feeling utterly helpless and furious. He genuinely wanted to hurl the kettle to the ground and walk away—but in that moment he caught a flash of what he’d seen in Yan Qingzhi’s eyes. The man was waiting for exactly that.
Just then Zhang Xiaolin came out of the classroom, glanced at Li Diudiu and smirked: “Oh my, how’s the poor water—any good to drink?”
Li Diudiu breathed deeply again. He held it in.
He carried the kettle into the classroom. Sun Rugong smiled at him: “Come sit down and read. The instructor just covered some material while you were gone. Want me to teach you?”
Li Diudiu looked at him, then shook his head. “Thanks. No need.”
Liu Shengying opened his mouth, wanting to say I could teach you too—then caught Sun Rugong’s gaze and lowered his head again, saying nothing.
Zhang Xiaolin went to catch up with Yan Qingzhi—to tell him to come to the lakeside grove later. He’d already worked out his excuse: first he’d just say he had something important to discuss. Then when he reached the grove and the instructor spotted Li Chi hitting him, he’d say: I only wanted to thank the instructor for standing up for me—I didn’t want anyone to see, so I asked you to come to the grove. Everything was planned. All that remained was for Li Diudiu to walk into the trap.
Li Diudiu sat down and opened the academy textbooks. He’d already read a fair amount of them the night before. The material was simple—his Shifu had covered all of this with him back when he was five. None of it held any surprise.
Atop a low garden wall a few yards from the classroom, Gao Xining sat watching, her face flushed pale with anger. She was furious at Yan Qingzhi for bullying someone—and furious at Li Diudiu for just taking it without a shred of temper.
But then she thought: if Li Diudiu lost his temper at the instructor, he’d be handing Yan Qingzhi a perfect excuse to throw him out of the academy.
“Is he genuinely spineless,” Gao Xining murmured to herself, “or has he actually figured that out too?”
About one quarter of an hour later, Zhang Xiaolin came running back and sat down beside Sun Rugong, making a success gesture. Sun Rugong smiled along with him.
“I’ve told the instructor,” Zhang Xiaolin said. “We’ve arranged to meet at the grove after class.”
Another half hour or so passed before Yan Qingzhi returned. He sat down, glanced at the rattan kettle on the floor beside him, and pointed at it. “Li Diudiu, the water’s gone cold. Go fetch another kettle.”
Li Diudiu stood up. “Yes.”
Yan Qingzhi’s eyes narrowed again. He was wondering whether this child was simply a timid pushover who obeyed every command—or someone with truly impressive self-restraint. Either way, it seemed Li Chi would not openly confront him in front of others, and that made things somewhat dull.
Li Diudiu returned with the second kettle, brewed tea for Yan Qingzhi, then went back to his seat and listened to the lesson. Yan Qingzhi was teaching mathematics—one of the Four-Page Academy’s foundational subjects, though one many students disliked for its tedium.
Li Diudiu took careful notes. Before he’d even finished writing, Yan Qingzhi suddenly rose and strode toward him with an iron expression. “No one is to take notes until I say so. What—you think you’re going to take my teaching out of the academy and show off with it? Or are you so destitute you’re planning to sell the notes for money?”
This time Li Diudiu was genuinely on the verge of losing it.
Yan Qingzhi picked up the notes and looked them over. Something shifted in his eyes. After a brief moment he tore the page out and shredded it, then scattered the pieces in the air. “Clean all of this up after class. If you make another mistake, I’ll have you expelled from the academy.”
Li Diudiu breathed slowly—once, twice, several times.
“Yes.”
He responded with a single word and sat back down. But Yan Qingzhi frowned. “Who told you to sit? Stand until class is dismissed for the day.”
Li Diudiu’s hand tightened into a fist, the veins on his small knuckles standing out clearly.
He hadn’t yet erupted—when suddenly, from outside, a clod of earth came flying in with remarkable precision and struck Yan Qingzhi square in the forehead. The clod crumbled on impact, leaving Yan Qingzhi’s entire face covered in dirt.
“Who did that!”
Yan Qingzhi bellowed and turned to look outside—not a single person in sight.
Behind the low garden wall, Gao Xining crouched with her heart pounding madly. She’d been genuinely infuriated. She’d grabbed a lump of earth on impulse and flung it—and it had hit dead center, to her own satisfaction.
“Hmph…” Gao Xining crouched there and let out a quiet, satisfied sound.
“That’ll teach you to bully people!”
—