The family school was full of life. It was, outside of her own courtyard, the place Hua Zhi loved to linger most — looking at the children with their eager, hungry eyes made every troublesome matter feel less like a trouble at all.

Her natural speaking voice was bright and crisp, carrying an air of clean efficiency whenever she had to get things done, but when teaching she deliberately slowed her pace and softened her tone, lending it a greater gentleness. She did not want the children to feel pressured.

At that moment, outside the classroom door, Zhu Haodong stood with a man in his early thirties at his side. The household steward, Xu, stood quietly nearby, eyes lowered in attendance.

The man had light-colored brows and eyes, his appearance nothing remarkable; his robes were old and washed to a pale color, his feet in plain black cloth shoes, his hair tied up at the top of his head in the most offhand of fashions. His face carried the weathered look of long travel, yet his manner held an ease and carefree looseness rare among scholars. For the moment, however, his gaze was fixed on what was happening inside with an expression of genuine attentiveness.

It was the first time Zhu Haodong had heard Zhizhi teach in person. Had the voice not been so unmistakably young, the effortless command she projected would have made anyone assume she was a person who had been teaching for many years. Setting aside the other members of the Hua Family for now, Zhizhi alone was proof enough that the family had a worthy successor.

He offered a silent word of praise to himself, then turned to look at the man he had brought along. He could not quite say the man looked like a scholar — he did carry the distinctive ink-and-paper scent scholars tended to have — but neither did he truly seem like one, because his whole bearing was simply not that of most scholars. In any case, his father had said the man was talented, and that was not likely to be wrong. Zhu Haodong only hoped the man held none of those notions about women being better off without too much learning — because if he did, he would not last long in a household like the Hua Family’s. Looking at him now, at least, no sign of contempt showed on his face.

During the break, Hua Zhi emerged from the classroom, and seeing the visitors waiting outside, she paused in her step before walking over to offer her greetings.

Zhu Haodong smiled and made the introduction. “This is the gentleman your grandfather mentioned — Master Zheng Zhi.”

“I am honored to meet you, Master Zheng.” Hua Zhi gave a slight curtsy.

Zheng Zhi looked at her, his eyes alight with keen interest. “Have you studied the Four Books and the Thirteen Classics?”

“I have a passing acquaintance with them.”

“What else have you read?”

“I’ve read miscellaneous books of various kinds. The Hua Family once had a very extensive collection, and there was always something to find.”

“The New Works of Ji Liang.”

“I’ve read it, but I think his earlier writing is superior.”

“Eighteen Strategies on Governance.”

“I’ve read it. Twelve of the eighteen strategies are of no practical use.”

“The Essential Summary of the Classics.”

“I’ve read it. Setting aside its tendency toward empty talk, it is quite good.”

“Discourses of the Four Worthies.”

“I’ve read it. The passages by the Four Worthies themselves are what I admire most.”

“The Informal Records.”

“I’ve read it. I have a deep admiration for the author who lived through and witnessed those extraordinary landscapes firsthand.”

“…”

Mu Qing had slipped outside. Every child in the Hua household had gathered at a discreet distance, watching and listening as their eldest sister sparred with this stranger — proud on her behalf, and yet feeling their own inadequacy keenly. Their eldest sister had read so many books, and the great majority were titles they had never even heard of! This feeling struck Bolin hardest of all.

The Sixth Prince was among them. Only now did he understand why Bolin, without the guidance of eminent scholars, still knew so very much — because he had an eldest sister who had read that many, many books.

His mother had once told him that no book was without value; every work that survived had something worth taking from it. Such books might not be as useful as the Four Books and the Thirteen Classics, but reading broadly, knowing broadly, naturally opened the heart and widened the mind.

Among everyone he knew, only Elder Sister Hua had truly done what his mother described.

So — Yanxi-brother had placed him here in the Hua household hoping he might learn from Elder Sister Hua, that he might gain a broader perspective and a more open mind. That must be it.

At first, Zhu Haodong had thought Zheng Zhi meant to make things difficult for Zhizhi, and he had been on the verge of stepping in — but watching Zhizhi remain composed throughout, responding the instant any title was named, without hesitation, he let his worry go. At the same time, he was privately astonished. Given the volume she had clearly read, she must have spent every day of those years with a book perpetually in hand. And this was the lesson — no one is born knowing everything, nor can just anyone have the courage and the capability Zhizhi had, because not just anyone had spent more than a decade accumulating the foundation that gave her that confidence.

The exchange of wits concluded when Zheng Zhi fell silent of his own accord. The surroundings went perfectly still — it seemed everyone had been holding their breath, and perhaps everyone had also forgotten that the break had long since ended.

Hua Zhi swallowed to moisten her throat, her back thoroughly damp with perspiration — though she gave no outward sign of it. She turned and said, “Bolin, teach the class in my place.”

Hua Bolin answered in a hoarse voice. The scene he had just witnessed had shaken him deeply.

Mu Qing gave the eldest young lady a long, searching look, then inclined slightly toward Zheng Zhi before leading the children back inside. He had always thought his own learning yielded to no one’s — had his ambitions not grown cold, there would surely be a place for him in officialdom today. But today he realized he too was no more than a frog at the bottom of a well. Perhaps… when a few more years had passed and the Hua Family had recovered its footing, he too ought to go out and see the world.

Once the children had all filed back into the classroom, Hua Zhi said, “Master Zheng, please — let us move somewhere more comfortable to talk.”

But Zheng Zhi shook his head. “I’d like to listen.”

Hua Zhi knew what he wanted to hear. She had every confidence in Bolin, so she waited quietly alongside him.

Having heard Bolin teach once before, she could now hear the difference from that earlier time. Hua Zhi lowered her head slightly, her eyes full of quiet pleasure. She had not been wrong — Bolin, having stood at the front as a teacher, had built a firmer foundation. The things he had learned were now coming out with an effortless command when he conveyed them to others.

The three of them stood there and listened for a full lesson before Zheng Zhi turned and walked away, satisfied.

In the study, Hua Zhi prepared the tea.

Zhu Haodong watched her practiced movements and sighed softly. “What a pity there will be no new tea to drink this year.”

“There are still a few tea leaves left in the household. If Second Uncle likes, I’ll have them wrapped up for you to take home.”

Zhu Haodong shook his head. The small tea garden at the Hua estate had been sealed; whatever remained would be at the old residence, and however much might have made it out was precious little. He could not bring himself to take it. A true pity — he had grown accustomed to the Hua Family’s clear, simple tea these past years, and going back to those heavily stewed brews mixed with all manner of additions felt strange to him now.

She pushed the tea toward the two of them, then lifted her head. “I imagine you have heard something of the Hua Family’s current situation from Grandfather, Master Zheng. If there is any reluctance on your part, there is no need to force yourself — I will explain it to Grandfather.”

Zheng Zhi smelled the tea, then took a small sip. He spoke of something unrelated to the matter at hand. “On the coastal regions I once drank a kind of tea not entirely unlike this — both used this same slender variety of leaf, but theirs was simmered with sugar and dried longans. I prefer this.”

Her tea leaves really were in demand. Hua Zhi smiled and refilled Zheng Zhi’s cup, thinking that if this were turned into a commercial venture it would surely bring in quite a profit. She only wondered when Master Lu would find the leisure to get something of the sort going.

After another cup, Zheng Zhi spoke at last. “I didn’t give it much thought before coming. Old Zhu called me, so I came. I’ll commit to three years and I’ll see the three years through properly. It’s only since arriving that I’ve found myself thinking a little more. Eldest young lady — have you ever considered pursuing scholarship further? Women cannot enter officialdom, cannot do this, cannot do that — yet what you learn belongs to you, and will always belong to you. If you were to write and publish your own works and leave them for the world, a hundred years from now it would not matter whether you were a man or a woman. That would be something you left behind in this world.”

Zhu Haodong’s eyes contracted sharply.

Hua Zhi looked genuinely surprised. She found herself warming to Zheng Zhi — not because of his recognition of her abilities, but because of his breadth of mind. He did not share the view, as most men did, that women had no need to know too much.