Quick Travel to the Clouds

Chapter 703 Talent for Governing the Country 2

Time crawled silently under the sun for more than half a month.

Shi Dan arrived on time every day, and his crooked "one" gradually became straight and upright. "Up," "down," "person," and "mouth" also took root on his tender muddy "sandbox," like wild grass stubbornly peeking out from between the ridges of the field.

The changes were subtle yet real; the timidity in Shi Dan's eyes lessened, and a kind of innocent, inquisitive light began to shine through.

This faint light, in the end, could not be completely hidden in the dust of the thatched hut.

At first, occasionally, children passing by the fields herding cattle would peek out from the distant earthen slope to peek into the shed. The sight of Shidan, his little chest puffed out as he studied, gradually caught the attention of some exhausted villagers.

The first person to break the monopoly on Shi Dan's studies was Niu Lao Er from the east end of the village.

On a sweltering midday, he used his large, rough, and chapped hand, as large as a palm-leaf fan, to lead a little boy named Niuwa, whose body was covered in mud and whose nose had snot hanging above his lips, and blocked the entrance to the thatched shed.

"Master... uh, young lady!" Niu Lao Er's voice was rough and hoarse, carrying the weariness and unease of a farmer after years of hard work. He rubbed his hands awkwardly. "I heard you can look after children?"

He pointed to his skinny son beside him, his eyes darting around, trying to avoid Yun Chu's probing gaze: "His mother and I have to hurry up with the work in the fields, the autumn harvest waits for no one... This little rascal is very wild, if we don't keep an eye on him he'll run to the river, he almost drowned last year... We really, really can't keep an eye on him..."

Niu Lao Er spoke quickly, his tone filled with pure survival anxiety and a basic need for safety, "Just keep him here! Please keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't run away, fall into the river, or stir up a hornet's nest, you'll be lucky! As for learning to read..."

A mocking smile played on his lips, a mixture of deep disdain and barely concealed embarrassment. "That stuff... it'd be better if you recognized a few, but if not... oh well! You're destined to be a hoe handle anyway! Kid, listen to me! Stay put and don't cause trouble! Your parents will come to pick you up this afternoon!"

After saying that, Niu Lao Er practically fled, pushing the bewildered Niu Wa into the straw shed, then turned and strode back into the scorching wheat field, afraid that every second of delay would ruin their livelihood.

Niuwa became the second student in the thatched hut. His arrival was like a valve being opened.

In the days that followed, as if by prior arrangement, villagers continued to bring their children over intermittently.

Those who bring their children are almost all the busiest, shortest-handed, or have the most naughty and difficult-to-manage children in their families: some, like Niu Lao Er, are too busy with farm work to take care of their children; some are elderly people living alone who are simply unable to look after their naughty grandchildren; and some are young widows who are struggling to raise their children on their own.

The delivery pitches were remarkably consistent, with a clear core purpose: "Please keep an eye on him!", "Don't let him run around and cause trouble!", "So he doesn't cause any trouble at home!", "Help us tame his wild nature..." without exception.

Expectations for children to "learn things"? Almost zero.

The villagers' eyes, hardened by the weight of life, clearly revealed that this place was nothing more than a relatively safe, makeshift "nursery" to keep the children in check.

"Literacy" seems insignificant and luxurious, even somewhat ridiculous, in the face of the basic necessities of survival.

Several older women murmured among themselves, "This girl doesn't even know if she can find a good husband, yet she's teaching others to read? Does she really think she's some kind of scholar from Jixia Academy?"

A month later, eleven rural children, mostly between four and seven years old, were crammed together in the small, drafty thatched hut.

Ten of them were boys covered in mud and tanned dark.

The eleventh child, however, was a little girl.

The woman who brought her was dressed slightly better, but her eyes and brows betrayed her sorrow and exhaustion.

The girl hid behind her, only half of her timid little face and a small hand tightly clutching her mother's clothes, her knuckles white. The woman's eyes were filled with guilt as she whispered:

“Miss…thank you for your trouble. This is my daughter, her name is…Dog, Dog Egg…no, her name is Yue Nu. She’s five years old, and her speech…she’s a little slow, she speaks very slowly…”

She spoke with difficulty, her voice low, as if the child's defect was something she found difficult to talk about.

"She was timid and was always bullied by other children. Her father... sigh, he was just trying to make a living in the city."

“I’m the only one at home… I can’t really take care of her with the work in the fields. I’m so worried about leaving her alone at home… I’d really appreciate it if you could… give her some food and make sure she doesn’t get beaten up… I have no other hope.”

As the woman spoke, her eyes reddened, and she quickly and gently pushed the small, thin figure behind her forward.

Little Yuenu was pushed and stumbled, her small body stiffening in place. She lowered her head, her two little hands tightly clasped together, her body trembling slightly, as if silently resisting the unfamiliar environment and the ten boys whose gazes might be curious or even malicious.

For the first few days, Yue Nu sat in the corner at the very edge of the shed, like a very easily startled little rabbit.

She neither cried nor made a fuss; she was so quiet she was almost like a shadow.

While the other boys, inspired by Shidan and Niuwa, began clumsily following Yun Chu in drawing "一" and "田" on the mud, she simply huddled there.

Her large, dark eyes were filled with a cautious yet incredibly focused light as she stared intently at the marks left by the branch in Yun Chu's hand, her small mouth moving silently and very slightly.

When asked a question, she would either blush, her small mouth opening and closing several times but only uttering indistinct "ooh...ooh...ah..." sounds, and finally lower her head again in a flustered and ashamed manner; or she would just nod or shake her head nervously.

The mischievous boys sometimes imitated her, making strange noises and laughing, which made her bury her head even deeper.

However, Yun Chu soon noticed something unusual.

When she began teaching new characters, such as "木" (wood), Yun Chu traced its shape on the muddy ground and pointed to a sparse mulberry tree outside the shed.

"Look, that's 'wood'! Tables and stools made of wood are all made of 'wood'!"

The children were noisily learning to draw; some recognized the characters, while others forgot them.

A day later, Yun Chu wrote the characters she had taught the day before on the muddy ground for the children to identify. Most of the children only remembered two or three commonly used ones.

"Who remembers this?" she asked, pointing to the "wood".

Several boys hesitantly raised their hands.

Yun Chu's gaze swept across the corner, only to see Yue Nu's clear eyes fixed on the words on the ground, her little hands unconsciously and extremely quickly mimicking Yun Chu's strokes from yesterday on her knees—horizontal, vertical, left-falling, and right-falling strokes.

The trajectory of her fingers was incredibly precise! Even more astonishing was when Yun Chu encouraged her, "Yuenü, do you recognize her?"