Chapter 91: The White Crane Knocks at the Door

People who are literate are always shrewder; from now on, he should avoid meeting Jia Qin. After nightfall, Wang Zhu tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The more he disliked Jia Qin, the more he couldn’t forget the story about “drawing a prison on the ground,” nor could he forget the words that followed.

“Brother Zhu, ever since you came here, your family hasn’t drawn water as often—has the water jar shrunk? Your home is less than a hundred paces from the well; why doesn’t your father come to see you? Why don’t you dare to go back and visit him? Because in your hearts, you both know—this place... is a prison!”

“Brother Zhu, this is truly drawing a prison on the ground! There are no fences around, yet you don’t dare to leave! If you disagree, then go home!”

“Hah, Brother Zhu, look, you and I are the same—we’ve both been judged as criminals by our kin. Hah, did we really do anything wrong? Who hasn’t made mistakes? Why are we the only ones judged as prisoners? Because we are weak! Brother Zhu, they act righteous but bully us because we are weak!”

Wang Zhu found it harder and harder to sleep. He shifted away from the widower, then finally sighed aloud. The old man’s place was decent; he could eat his fill every day, but no matter how good it was, it could never compare to home. Living under the widower’s watchful gaze, he was constantly restrained, afraid to speak loudly, even afraid to cough or fart loudly. For example, now he felt cold and wanted to add a blanket, but dared not ask. At home, if he was cold, he could snuggle up to his father or brother for warmth; in a stranger’s house, that was impossible.

Wang Zhu disliked Jia Qin, yet every word the latter spoke pierced him like a thorn—painful and impossible to shake off. Was he truly imprisoned, as Jia Qin said? They were all Wang family children; why was he singled out to be punished?

It must have been Wang Ge’s idea; only she guessed that he caught the mouse that night, but she had no proof and still dared to tell Grandfather? So she must have made up lies! Definitely!

Otherwise, how could Grandfather be so cruel to his own grandson?

Wang Ge... Wang Ge... the eldest branch... how ruthless they all were!

Feiliu Peak, Scholar’s Lodge.

On Wang Ge’s desk, against the wall, burned a bronze oil lamp. It was the first time she’d seen a bronze lamp since crossing over; all her family’s candlesticks were made of pottery.

In the lamplight, she recorded in the simplest phrases what Jing Nü had informed her after bidding farewell to Tiger: “Official students receive one cylinder of hemp candle oil, one ink cake daily, ten bamboo slips per month. All supplies are distributed to the lodgings at fixed times. The two teachers will lecture formally at the Qinquan Pavilion on the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth of the twelfth month. The thirtieth and the first of the New Year are holidays. Lectures resume the next day and continue until the tenth. The eleventh to the nineteenth are holidays, and students may return home for the Lantern Festival. Lectures resume on the twentieth until the end of the month. On the last day, the schedule for the next term will be announced.”

As she wrote, Wang Ge shook her head, scraping away excess words with her knife, paring the sentences down until they were smooth and comprehensible.

Ever since her brother had learned to read, she understood why the ancients expressed themselves in such concise phrases—it was because ink was precious.

The lodgings were equipped with a “concave inkstone,” and she was given a “inkstone stone” the size of her palm. The stone was for grinding ink.

The ink cake was nearly as thin as a pancake, about the size of a coin. Crushed and ground with water, it revealed coarse particles within; she didn’t know what they were, so she used the brush tip to push them aside.

While writing, she realized it was inferior to the ink sent by Teacher Zhang to her brother. The ink wasn’t dark enough, and there were still tiny sandy bits.

Even so, Wang Ge was content and grateful. In this ancient era, for a peasant girl to have the chance to study and read, with daily supplies of ink, candles, bamboo slips, and enough food—how could she not be satisfied?

Yes, she had invented many things beyond the principles of this era, assisting Magistrate Huan’s governance to some degree, perhaps greatly. But so what? If she encountered a corrupt official, he could seize all her achievements, ruin her family, or confine her to a workshop, forcing her to labor for life. These were real possibilities!

But Magistrate Huan had given her most of what she deserved. Wealth was trivial; credentials mattered more! She never took these for granted; from her earliest coin rewards to her admission into the Nanshan Academy, she had always been grateful.

Living under another’s roof in this era, she needed to learn to survive and strive within her fate, not foolishly believe that being a transmigrant made her omnipotent, nor despise the wisdom of the ancients.

Knock, knock. Two light taps interrupted Wang Ge’s writing practice.

When she opened the door, she was startled, then incredulous, thinking she must be dreaming.

White feathers, crimson crest!

The visitor was a white crane!

Clearly raised by humans, this wasn’t the first time it knocked at night. It tapped with its beak, never entering. Even after making eye contact with Wang Ge, it showed no fear, then went to knock on the next room.

The neighbor didn’t open the door, but immediately a child’s voice called out, “Got it!”

Wang Ge thought the crane would keep knocking, but after the third room, it flew away.

How beautiful! Its snowy wings and slender neck cut through the deep night, truly deserving the title of “immortal.”

She closed the door and sat back at her desk. She longed to write of what she’d just seen, but her calligraphy was too poor; just the character for “crane” had too many strokes, and the slender bamboo slip couldn’t hold it all!

She tried writing smaller... squeezed it into a black dot.

Forget it. She was here to learn to read and write; it was only natural she wrote poorly for now.

Before dawn, Wang Ge followed the route Jing Nü had described yesterday and found the kitchen—a bamboo shed in the open air, with nine stoves beneath, each a three-port stove. Each stove had two attendants, male and female, all in their prime.

“Don’t wander!” a female attendant called to Wang Ge, pointing to the distant stoves. “Just arrived? Child attendants collect food at those three stoves. The front one is for official students, the other five for the rest. Don’t go to the wrong one again.”

“Thank you for the guidance. I am an official student,” Wang Ge replied calmly, not bowing. Huan Zhen had taught her that once inside the Nanshan Academy, she must never bow to servants, tenants, or slaves—it was against the rites.

The official students’ breakfast included a bowl of wheat and bean porridge, a sheet of sesame cake, and vegetable sauce. The food was served on a rectangular pottery tray with large and small compartments, the same style as the trays she’d used in her previous life.

On her way back, passing Tiger’s lodging, the child was just stepping out, shivering from the cold.

“Tiger, don’t go—take this portion.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

Wang Ge smiled at him. She couldn’t say why, but she always felt he was frailer than other children. Helping a small child get breakfast in cold weather was nothing to her, accustomed as she was to hard work.

Jing Nü quickly caught up to Wang Ge. With no one around, she whispered, “Miss Wang, you needn’t be so close to that boy in future.”

Wang Ge looked at her inquiringly.

Jing Nü was pleased and continued, “He’s only recently arrived, just like us. He’s called Tiger, but I don’t know his surname, nor how distant his kin are from the main household. And... you really shouldn’t have eaten the dried meat he gave you yesterday. I heard from the servants who brought him to the academy that this boy likes catching mice. He’s so poor—guess what kind of meat that was?”

Wang Ge lowered her eyes, embarrassed. “My family is poor too. I’ve caught mice myself. Sometimes, when I hated how mice spoiled the grain, I roasted them. While roasting, the mouse was still alive, squeaking...”

“Ah!” Jing Nü jumped back, retching, and fled a yard away, dry-heaving before rushing off without looking back. She would surely avoid Wang Ge from now on.

Only then did Wang Ge ponder the meaning of the name “Jing Nü.” The master family had named this attendant not for chastity, but as a warning to remain silent and guarded—never speak out of turn!

(End of chapter)