Chapter 294: Little Teacher

Chapter 294: Chapter 294: Little Teacher

But for now, even with his personal concerns put to rest, some practical problems still lay before him.

Studying was easier said than done. Given the family’s current situation, there simply wasn’t any extra money to pay for his schooling. He couldn’t be selfish like Ji Liantang, ignoring his family’s hardship to single-mindedly chase after his so-called ideals.

When Ji Huan understood his concerns, she waved them away.

"You were willing to commit ten years, so what’s a small detour? You can work while you study."

After Ji Mingfang asked what "work while you study" meant, he rejected the idea without a second thought.

"If I’m going to work for you, I can’t divide my attention."

Ji Huan admired his attitude but didn’t approve.

"It’s a great achievement to accomplish even one thing in your life, so you’re right that you shouldn’t be half-hearted. But your current job is, at best, just a way to make a living. That doesn’t conflict with your dream. First you earn a living, then you pursue your dream. You won’t be a burden to your family, and you won’t be letting yourself down. So why not?"

’Really... Is that possible?’

"But if I really do go, the workshop will be short-staffed..."

"It’s not like you’re going right away. Besides, Aunt Xie and our cousin are here. Once the workshop is up and running smoothly, we’ll continue to hire more people. Don’t overthink it. When you face a problem, you overcome it. When you have a dream, you chase it. Some regrets in life are unavoidable, but some can definitely be prevented. So why not try?"

Seeing Ji Mingfang sink into thought, clearly swayed, Ji Huan decided to settle the matter for him.

"Then it’s settled. You’ll work hard at the workshop for now and save your wages for tuition later. But you can’t just waste time in the meanwhile. I’ll arrange for a tutor to start teaching you."

The tutor Ji Huan arranged for Ji Mingfang was none other than Dabao.

The three of them sat in the main room. After Ji Huan finished her introduction, Ji Mingfang paused for a moment, then rose and gave Dabao a deep bow with cupped hands. He didn’t look down on him for being a child; he genuinely treated him as a teacher.

In Ji Mingfang’s eyes, Dabao, who was more literate than he was, was already very impressive.

Dabao sat ramrod straight on the chair with a stern little face, his feet dangling some distance from the floor. He looked rather comical.

He stoically accepted the formal bow but didn’t look the least bit happy.

"Dabao, what did I tell you last night?" Ji Huan said, deliberately drawing out her words.

So that Ji Huan wouldn’t have to teach Ji Mingfang herself, and to ensure his nightly bedtime stories continued without interruption, Dabao reluctantly grunted in agreement.

Ji Huan said to Ji Mingfang, "Go on, sit down. He’s just a little squirt; there’s no need for such formality."

But Ji Mingfang disagreed. "I may have never attended school, but I understand the principle that a teacher for a day is a teacher for life. Since Dabao is teaching me, I must respect him. It has nothing to do with age."

’The traditional reverence for Heaven, Earth, Sovereign, Parent, and Teacher was too deeply ingrained in people of this era,’ Ji Huan thought. She had wanted to dispense with some of the formalities, but on second thought, respecting one’s teacher and valuing their teachings wasn’t a bad thing.

’Even if this particular "teacher" was a half-pint amateur she’d roped in to fill the role.’

Since they had moved into separate rooms, Dabao’s spot for practicing calligraphy and reading had been moved to the west room.

Seeing that everything that needed to be said had been said, Ji Huan left to give the two of them some space.

As she closed the door behind her, she intentionally left a small crack. A few moments later, she crept back to peek inside.

She usually taught Dabao using a two-pronged approach: bedtime stories and traditional education.

The bedtime stories were mostly adapted from children’s books, myths, and heroic legends from the future, which she would make up as she went along.

His traditional education, on the other hand, began with some of the most famous primers, such as the *Three Character Classic*, *Hundred Family Surnames*, and *Thousand Character Classic*, as well as the *Young Scholar’s Pearl Forest* and *Enlarged and Enriched Wisdom*. Coincidentally, these texts also existed here in the Great Zhou.

Dabao was precocious and blessed with an exceptional memory. He was already studying the *Zhu Zi Family Rules*, and the *Analects* would be next.

It was said that a child’s instruction should begin with elementary studies—first literacy, then the reading of foundational texts like the Classics and the works of the Masters.

After mastering the Classics and the works of the Masters, a student would move on to the study of history. This followed the old saying: "Once versed in the Classics and Masters, one reads the Histories."

This was also why Ji Huan wanted to send Dabao to school.

’She could teach Dabao literacy, that was fine. But as for all those classics and histories... she could recite them and grasp the general meaning, but she couldn’t guarantee her understanding was accurate. And forget about any deep scholarly analysis. She was afraid she would end up leading the boy astray.’

But even though Dabao had yet to formally attend school, he was more than qualified to teach Ji Mingfang.

’It was just his teaching method...’

Inside the room, Dabao sat upright at the desk, already lost in his own world.

Seated to the left of the desk, Ji Mingfang also had a stack of paper laid out before him. It was the coarse joss paper used for burning at gravesites, which he had brought from home.

Ji Huan suggested giving him Dabao’s old calligraphy practice paper, the back of which was clean.

He refused, feeling it was too wasteful to use such good paper when he was just starting to learn. Though the paper Dabao used was nothing special, to Ji Mingfang, it was a treasure.

Ji Mingfang held the calligraphy brush in a very awkward grip.

Back when Ji Qingshan was teaching Ji Liantang to read, Ji Liantang had used a brush while he had used a stick. And though Ji Qingshan, in a good mood, had let him touch the brush once or twice, he had never corrected his grip.

Besides, too much time had passed, and he’d forgotten most of it. When Ji Huan had him sign the contract earlier, he had simply held the brush as he would a pair of chopsticks.

Watching Dabao’s brush move so smoothly, Ji Mingfang grew more and more uncertain about how to even begin, and he broke out in an anxious sweat.

Dabao, however, just kept to his own writing. He didn’t ask any questions or even look up, treating everything around him as if it were thin air.

Ji Huan sighed, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The two figures hunched over the desk turned to look at her in unison.

Ji Huan tapped on the desk.

"Dabao, is this how I taught you?"

Dabao’s little body went rigid.

Ji Huan added, "How about this? You can write in here by yourself, and your cousin can come to my room. I’ll teach him."

Dabao slowly turned to Ji Mingfang.

"Person—"

Ji Mingfang looked at Ji Huan, then back at Dabao, completely lost.

Dabao’s little brow furrowed. He poked the book spread out on the desk with his finger, pointed to the first character, and enunciated clearly, "This word is ’person’."

Only then did Ji Mingfang understand. So, the lesson was beginning.

’Actually, I already know this character,’ he wanted to say, but he figured he should let his little tutor save some face, so he obediently repeated the word.

Dabao picked up a brush with his left hand and demonstrated the proper grip with his right hand in slow motion.

A moment later, Ji Mingfang caught on and copied his posture, gripping his own brush.

Dabao frowned. "Too tight."

Ji Mingfang didn’t understand what he meant.

Dabao had no choice but to hop off his stool and correct his student’s grip and pressure before returning to his own seat.

He lifted his brush, dipped it in ink, and drew a single left-falling stroke on the paper. Then he glanced sideways at Ji Mingfang.

Ji Mingfang, now getting the hang of it, followed suit and drew a left-falling stroke.

Dabao then added a right-falling stroke, and Ji Mingfang did the same.

Even though they performed the same simple motions to write a simple character, the difference between Dabao, who already had a solid foundation, and Ji Mingfang, who was holding a brush for the first time, was enormous.

Ji Mingfang glanced at Dabao’s well-formed character, then back at his own crooked chicken scratch, his face flushing with shame.

Dabao looked very displeased as well.

Ji Mingfang’s ugly handwriting triggered Dabao’s obsessive tendencies. He insisted on watching him until he could write the character properly.

First, he made him fill half a page, but when he saw little improvement, he tried to teach Ji Mingfang the way Ji Huan had taught him: by guiding his hand. Unfortunately, his own hand was too small to wrap around Ji Mingfang’s.

So he had to demonstrate for him again.

This time, he wrote each stroke extremely slowly.

Ji Mingfang watched intently, carefully studying each movement, and then practiced it over and over again...

After some back and forth, the two of them finally found their rhythm.

The only problem was their efficiency; they had only learned two characters in an entire morning.

"Don’t rush," Ji Huan consoled him. "The first step is always the hardest. Once you get used to it and figure out the patterns and tricks, you’ll naturally get faster."

Ji Mingfang looked a little guilty. "I’m not the one in a hurry. I’m just worried I’m holding Dabao back..."

Ji Huan waved her hand. "To teach is to learn. By teaching you, he’s reinforcing his own memory and understanding. It’s good for him, too. Isn’t that right, Dabao?"

Dabao, his cheeks slightly puffed in a pout, gave a very reluctant nod.