The Lucky Farmgirl-Chapter 69 - 58 Start a Small Stove

Bai Shanbao took off his shoes and crawled up, folding his legs and sitting neatly, with practiced ease.

Manbao had never sat like this before, and curiously crawled beside him, but as soon as she attempted to cross her legs, her body tilted and she fell to the side.

Bai Shanbao was just for show, after all; he was still young, and although his grandmother had taught him to sit this way, he rarely did so at home.

A bump from Manbao didn’t even make him sway, he just toppled over to the side directly, and the two children ended up tumbling into a pile.

A glint of amusement flashed in Mr.

Zhuang’s eyes, and he almost couldn’t help bursting into laughter, but remembering the dignity of a teacher, he restrained himself.

With a large hand, he helped the two children straighten up while holding back his laughter, and said, “People have grown accustomed to sitting on stools and sleeping on beds, but in the world of scholars, many either out of habit or elegance still insist on sitting on mats.

As future scholars, you will need to learn these etiquettes.”

Mr.

Zhuang said, “However, you’re still young now, so you don’t need to sit so stiffly.”

Mr.

Zhuang was about to continue when Manbao curiously asked, “What’s a world of scholars?

Is a stool a kind of chair?

Why is it called a stool?”

Mr.

Zhuang’s prepared words got stuck in his throat, but after thinking for a moment, he started from the beginning with them.

What is the world of scholars?

In simple terms, it’s a lot, a whole lot of ‘shi’, the circle of learned people is called the world of scholars.

In mentioning ‘shi’, we must talk about the different classes of ‘farmer, worker, merchant, and lowly,’ and only after Mr.

Zhuang had explained all these, in which time the two children came up with many more questions, did he realize how the time had passed.

The topic he had planned to cover was completely missed, but he did not regret it, seeing that the two children were fascinated, and he smiled satisfactorily.

He glanced outside and said, “There’s a quarter of an hour more before class starts, you two lie down and close your eyes to rest a bit.”

The two children felt especially lively and not tired at all.

Mr.

Zhuang then said, “Even if you don’t feel tired, mental activity drains your vitality and blood.

Right now, you don’t notice it, but you won’t grow tall later on, and you’ll become slow-witted.

By then, it’ll be too late to change.”

Upon hearing they might not only fail to grow tall but also become slow-witted, the two kids dared not argue any longer, and with a flop, they promptly lied down on the mat and closed their eyes.

However, at that moment, their cerebral cortex was still very active, reminiscing about the knowledge the teacher had just shared, unable to fall asleep at all.

They felt that closing their eyes was useless.

But after a while, their breathing gradually steadied, their brains slowed down, and their breaths grew longer and softer until they began to drift off to sleep, drowsily.

Mr.

Zhuang sat opposite them, lifting the teapot from the stove to pour himself a cup of tea, slowly sipping it.

He looked at the children, who were gradually stretching out their arms and legs, and revealed a slight smile.

Mr.

Zhuang had been in very good spirits these past few days.

Although a few unpleasant events had occurred after his disciples entered the school, the atmosphere became more lively, and he had discovered two promising students.

A lifetime of studying The Analects would never be tedious; each recitation could bring about a different comprehension, and besides The Analects, there were many other sage writings.

Confucianism, Taoism, Legalism, Military Strategy, there were so many books to read, so he had much to teach the children.

Mr.

Zhuang had a wealth of knowledge to impart on his students, but not every student was suitable to learn it all.

After thirty years as a student and fifteen years as a teacher, not to mention his various roles as a strategist and as a mentor, he knew all too well how hard it was to find the right path for someone, how challenging it was for a student to learn the knowledge that suited them, and how difficult it was for a teacher to pass on their wealth of knowledge.

When he decided to come to Qili Village, he had given up on his ultimate ideal, for finding a suitable child was far too difficult, far too difficult indeed.

He didn’t think it was possible to find a child both smart and meeting his expectations in the entire prefecture, let alone in these remote hills.

But he had found one.

First was Manbao, a smart, filial, and respectful child.

The only shortfall was that she was a girl.

And now there was another one.

In the entire school, there were twenty-eight students, some dull and some clever, but Mr.

Zhuang knew they weren’t clever to that extent; some understood the shallow knowledge he imparted right away, while others needed it repeated many, many times before they could remember.

Those few who understood would often forget once they turned their heads.

So he couldn’t teach them deeper things.

Why was he willing to take Manbao and Shanbao aside for additional lessons on the small stove?

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Because not only did they understand what he said, they could also think laterally and ask more questions.

Those questions ranged from the simple to the complex, and in speaking with them, he wasn’t merely passing on knowledge; in the process of speaking and thinking, he too was gaining insights.

Mr.

Zhuang leaned back, resting against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest.

With the current situation, he was very satisfied, extremely satisfied.

To have one successful disciple was enough, but to have two meant a lifetime without regrets.

Mr.

Zhuang decided that he would need to make a trip back to the prefecture the next time he had a day off; he needed to bring home some items that Manbao and Shanbao would need.

Mr.

Zhuang, with his eyes closed in reverie, sensed it was about time and opened his eyes to check the sundial.

He then woke the two children up and they all went to class together.

The afternoon’s lessons were mostly about arithmetic and poetry, and both children enjoyed these two subjects, especially arithmetic.

Manbao discovered she was particularly quick at calculations, and almost each class was praised by the teacher, so she studied with even more zeal.

After school in the afternoon, Mr.

Zhuang wanted to take the two children aside for more lessons on the small stove, but before he could speak, the two little ones excitedly stood up and, together with their classmates, bowed respectfully to send him off.

When he waved to tell everyone they could dispense with the formality, and was about to speak again, the two kids were already running off with their books at lightning speed.

Mr.

Zhuang, who hadn’t managed to speak: …

After a moment, he shook his head and smiled, deciding it was alright; the two children were still young, so why rush?

When Manbao and the others ran out, Datou was already waiting for them.

Seeing the little boy by the little miss’s side, he had grown accustomed to it, so he took them both back home, set their things down, and then ran out the door.