Chapter 52: First Snow (III)

Thick clouds blanketed the sky, and the sun had long since vanished—this was the true atmosphere of winter. Wu Yueling glanced up at the bleak, gray heavens. High latitude really was troublesome: the cold settled in early and the snow fell soon after. Clothing was the only defense against the chill.

She returned from the courtyard to her room, which was as cold as ever. Such was the drawback of a wooden house. Knocking on the brick wall, Wu Yueling could feel the icy chill seeping into her fingertips. She thought of the heated brick beds in the north. Perhaps she should have a carpenter build one soon—it seemed a promising idea. The heated bed truly was a marvelous invention.

This morning, the carpenter had reported that all the desks and chairs were finished and had been moved into the classroom.

It was time, she thought.

Sidestepping the unlit incense burner, she headed for the door, then remembered the badminton rackets. Or rather, what barely qualified as badminton rackets—wooden frames strung with instrument strings, a bit heavy. There were also shuttlecocks made of cloth wrapping chaff, with chicken or goose feathers tied at the end.

She wondered if the children would enjoy these as extracurricular activities. For them, perhaps everything new was a blessing.

As she opened the door, she saw Yu Chao’en.

“Princess,” Yu Chao’en bowed slightly, bundled in thick clothing against the harsh cold.

Wu Yueling responded with a quiet acknowledgment and turned toward the Heavenly Gift Pavilion, calculating inwardly—she could not let him accompany her. The content of the first lesson, and some that would follow, must remain secret for now.

Children’s words carried no weight; for this reason, Wu Yueling had long since signed a contract with their parents—any leaks would mean disaster for them all.

She understood well: even in the Tang Dynasty, rebels were simply executed, beheaded or strangled, while the men were exiled and the women enslaved in the inner palace. But if anyone close to her betrayed her, forgiveness would not come easily.

The main reason was that what she intended to teach was simply too advanced. After all, she was cultivating these children as the seeds of fire—their minds were still malleable and full of possibility.

“Yu Chao’en, how go the preparations for the restaurant?” Wu Yueling recalled the task she had entrusted to him and paused, asking over her shoulder.

“Reporting, Princess, it will be ready to open in a few days. The kitchen at the Princess’s mansion has already selected the best trainees. There’s a young cook among them—his stir-fry rivals Xiao Chun’s,” Yu Chao’en replied, glancing at the Princess’s back.

“What’s his name?”

Yu Chao’en thought for a moment. “Wu Xiaoqi.”

“Oh? A girl, then?” Wu Yueling asked, a trace of curiosity in her voice.

“No, Princess, he’s a boy,” Yu Chao’en replied as usual.

“...Very well. Find a few storytellers—good talkers, not those dry scholars who spout nothing but classical phrases. They must know how to bring tales to life!” Wu Yueling instructed, not waiting for his reply before moving on.

Yu Chao’en remained where he stood, respectfully assenting before heading to the mansion gate. Storytellers... It seemed the Princess’s recent stroll through the Western Market had not been just a whim but an investigation into restaurant operations. Never mind the reason—the Princess’s word was law.

He would pass the word to Gao Neisheng: the Princess’s tavern was about to open, a cause for celebration.

Wu Yueling left Yu Chao’en behind and instructed several of her guards to help Xiao Chun move more than twenty badminton rackets to the training yard at the rear of the residence.

She then sent word for the children to gather in the classroom and made her way there as well.

Arriving at the classroom building took about half an hour—not a great distance, though some of the children, having been assigned new lodgings, came running from another direction.

At the entrance, she could already hear the raucous clamor inside—the children, over three hundred of them, were chattering away incessantly.

Hua Chuer followed Wu Yueling, still puzzled as to why her mistress was intent on teaching a horde of little children.

Wu Yueling stepped inside and surveyed the room. Over three hundred children gathered together—naturally, it was lively. She spotted a few familiar troublemakers grappling in the aisles, fists flying as they tussled with wild abandon.

She had intended to walk to the lectern, hands clasped behind her back, but the chaos left her momentarily at a loss.

“Is that the Princess?”

“The Princess is here!”

Someone’s hushed exclamation rippled through the vast classroom like a contagion. In moments, the lively atmosphere was extinguished, leaving only the scuffling sounds from beneath the desks.

Wu Yueling crouched down slightly, peering at the culprits beneath the table—several boys tangled together, one gripping a collar, another tugging at a sleeve.

They sensed her gaze, stopped fighting, and stared up at her with wide eyes. The more bashful among them flushed instantly—caught brawling by the Princess! Would they be punished? After all, this was a classroom, and the Princess was their teacher, just as their parents had instructed them.

Wu Yueling did not put on the airs of a strict teacher. Seeing them cease their fighting, she stood and walked to the lectern, glancing at the smooth yellow cloth board hanging on the wall behind it.

With over three hundred students, she wondered if the board was visible to all. Picking up a piece of charcoal, she wrote four large characters on the yellow cloth, then turned to the expectant faces before her. Even she found it difficult to adjust to such an attentive audience.

She noticed the little fighters had returned to their seats. Clearing her throat softly, she searched her memory for how her own teachers used to begin class.

“Class begins!”

The words escaped her lips involuntarily, but the crowd of children below the lectern simply stared back in confusion.

Realizing her mistake—this was, after all, ancient times—Wu Yueling motioned for Hua Chuer, who was carrying a box, to enter and distribute the small thread-bound booklets. How could they learn without paper and pens? Each was given a booklet and a bamboo pen. Wu Yueling reminded them repeatedly to take care not to lose or damage them.

She selected class monitors—six for over three hundred students—to teach them unity and discourage fighting. First, she instructed them to write their own names, then taught them to recognize and read the four characters on the yellow board: "Equality between Men and Women."

Wu Yueling was unsure what repercussions might arise from instilling such ideas in the children. Their backgrounds varied widely, and few had attended school or learned their letters. The youngest was eight, the oldest twelve—a formative age, which was precisely why she chose them as her seeds of fire.

A single spark can ignite a prairie fire.

One person’s influence may be limited, but one can affect those nearby; a group can influence a whole street, a street can sway a ward, and a ward can set off a city. When everyone regards equality as common sense, a collective force will emerge, erupting against any injustice encountered.

This was Wu Yueling’s vision—just a vision for now. Teaching these children was only the first and most arduous step, with over three hundred children packed into a single classroom.

After teaching them to write their names and the characters on the yellow board, she assigned their tasks and sent them home early. It was already late; Wu Yueling now understood the hardships of being a teacher. It seemed her plan to teach them badminton would have to wait.

“Princess,” a little girl with a braided ponytail approached, clutching her booklet and pen. She flashed a bright, toothy smile at Wu Yueling.

“And you are?” Wu Yueling asked. The face was familiar, but with over three hundred names, she couldn’t keep track of them all.

“My name is Fu Yaoyi. My father is a cook in the kitchen. He makes stir-fried dishes for me every day—they’re so delicious! My father said that stir-frying is a great invention by the Princess!” Fu Yaoyi said with innocent pride, her cheeks tinged with a shy flush.

“You have a good father,” Wu Yueling replied, patting her head with a smile.

“I only have a father. My mother passed away long ago,” Fu Yaoyi’s head dropped, her expression suddenly dim.

Wu Yueling gently ruffled her hair, sighing softly. It wasn’t the first time she’d met a child like this, and she could never find the right words to comfort them.

But Fu Yaoyi did not remain downhearted for long. Soon, her cheerful and resilient smile returned. “Princess, I’m not sad. My father says that as long as I live well, my mother will be happy in heaven.”

“Mm.” Wu Yueling could only squeeze her small hand and, after a long silence, say, “You’re a very thoughtful child.”

“Thank you, Princess. I’m so happy. Since coming to the Princess’s residence, I have a place to live, food to eat, and clothes to wear. I no longer have to freeze or go hungry outside. I’ll always remember the Princess’s kindness! My father always says, never forget your roots. I’ll remember! Please believe me! And my father also said, ‘A teacher for a day is a father for a lifetime.’ Since you taught me today, Princess, you’re like a mother to me. Princess, can I call you mother?”

Wu Yueling looked at the little girl for a long moment before she recovered herself. By her reckoning, she was now about fifteen years old; the girl must be ten. Did that mean she had a ten-year-old daughter at fifteen?

“Xiaoyi, just call me Brother Yueling—don’t call me mother...”

“But a teacher for a day...”

“A teacher for a day is a brother for life! Go tell your father the Princess said so!”

“But Princess, you’re a woman.”

“Then a teacher for a day is a sister for life!”

“Okay, Princess Sister!”