Poor but talented scholar

Chapter 19 Rewards

The room fell silent for a moment. A chubby schoolboy wrinkled his nose, sniffed twice, and muttered under his breath, "Where's that muddy smell coming from?"

A slightly taller schoolboy next to him tugged at him, gestured with his eyes to Lu Chuan's bedding, and whispered, "Shh, don't say anything. Judging from his clothes, he's probably a farmer's son from some village down there."

The chubby student pursed his lips and, as he took off his shoes and climbed onto the kang (a heated brick bed), deliberately pulled his satin blanket further inside, as if afraid of getting dust from Lu Chuan's bedding.

Lu Chuan sat on his bunk, holding an old book given to him by his seventh uncle, without even lifting his eyelids, as if he hadn't heard their discussion at all.

When it was time for meals, the dormitory became lively.

Most of the children in the town have servants bring them food in food boxes.

As the food box was opened layer by layer, the aroma of steamed white buns, shredded meat, and hot egg drop soup instantly filled the entire room.

Several children gathered together, eating and chatting about which shop in town had acquired new gadgets and whose birds sang the most beautifully.

Lu Chuan closed the book, took out the coarse cloth bag from under the mattress, and pulled out a dark elm bark cake.

The cafeteria will not open for meals until tomorrow.

He took the flatbread and walked to the small red clay stove in the corner of the room. A kettle was sitting on the stove, boiling water.

Lu Chuan took out a large, rough porcelain bowl with a chipped rim and poured half a bowl of boiling water into it.

Then, he took the black flatbread, which was as hard as a rock, and slammed it twice against the edge of his desk.

"Tap, tap."

A dull knocking sound echoed in the room.

Several wealthy young men who were eating meat stopped eating and turned to look.

The new farm boy, expressionless, used his red, frozen fingers to break the dark, rough-fiber-looking thing into tiny pieces and throw them into the boiling water.

Boiling water soaked the elm bark powder, turning it into a bowl of porridge with a slightly bitter and earthy smell.

Lu Chuan carried the bowl of porridge back to his bunk in the corner, picked up his chopsticks, and began to eat.

The entire school building was completely silent.

A chubby schoolboy, holding half a steamed bun in his hand, looked at the food in his bowl and suddenly felt a tightness in his throat.

He stared blankly at Lu Chuan, his eyes gradually shifting from initial disdain and disgust to an indescribable shock.

They grew up in luxury and rarely ate coarse grains. They had never seen anyone eat tree bark as food and eat it so calmly.

The once bustling school building fell into an eerie silence.

Zhou Bing, the slightly taller schoolboy, kept glancing back and forth between Lu Chuan's bowl of grayish-brown porridge and the delicacies in front of him.

He had seen beggars swallow cold, hard leftovers, but he had never seen anyone eat something that couldn’t even be called “food” with such ease, as if he were at a banquet.

"This guy... is ruthless." Zhou Bing silently labeled Lu Chuan in his mind.

Just then, Zhang Fugui, the chubby schoolboy who had just complained about the "muddy smell," was shocked.

He watched as Lu Chuan slowly swallowed the last mouthful of bitter porridge, scraping away even the last crumb at the bottom of the bowl with his fingers.

"Hey, newbie," Zhang Fugui finally couldn't hold back any longer, his voice laced with barely concealed bluff, "Is this all you eat every day? Doesn't this stuff make your throat feel dry?"

Lu Chuan got up, washed the chipped bowl, and put it into the wooden box under the bedding before turning his head away.

He looked directly at Zhang Fugui, his tone completely calm: "If there's no food stored at home, even tree bark is a luxury. If Brother Zhang is interested, I can share a piece with you next time."

......

As night fell, the sound of breathing, rising and falling, filled the schoolhouse.

Lu Chuan lay on the hard bedding. In the darkness, he could hear the rustling of pine needles in the cold wind outside the window.

"The third quarter of the hour of Yin." He set an alarm clock for himself in his mind.

While the entire academy was still asleep, Lu Chuan had already quietly gotten up.

On a winter morning, the well water was bone-chillingly cold. Lu Chuan, wearing only a thin long gown, stood by the well, splashing the cold water on his face again and again.

This intense stimulation can keep his mind absolutely calm.

......

Early in the morning, the bell for morning classes rang precisely on time.

Master Zhao walked into the room with a stern face, still clutching the shiny sandalwood ruler in his hand.

He sat down behind the lectern, slapped the table, and the students who had been whispering to each other immediately shrank back, and the room became so quiet you could hear them drooling.

"Zhang Fugui, you'll recite the Three Character Classic I taught yesterday." Teacher Li didn't even lift his eyelids and casually picked someone.

The chubby Zhang Fugui stood up shakily, his palms sweaty.

He usually spends all his time on the snacks sent from home, and last night he talked about crickets with Zhou Wencai for most of the night, so his mind is a complete mess right now.

"At the beginning of life... human nature is inherently good..." Zhang Fugui stammered through the first two lines, then began scratching his head, "Human nature is similar, but habits differ. If, if not taught..."

"And then?" Master Zhao raised his head, his eyes icy.

"If not taught properly... one's nature will change." Zhang Fugui, his face flushed, managed to utter this sentence.

"Foolish!" Master Zhao slammed his ruler on the table. "The way of teaching values ​​focus! Where have you been reciting that? Show me your hand!"

Zhang Fugui walked forward with a gloomy face, palms up.

Master Zhao didn't hold back at all, and "slap, slap" twice, the crisp sound echoing throughout the school.

Zhang Fugui hissed in pain, tears welling in his eyes, and returned to his seat, pulling his hand away.

The next few students were punished by having their hands slapped for not reciting well, and by having to stand against the back wall for missing two words.

"Lu Chuan, come here." Master Zhao turned the reddened ruler and his gaze fell on the thin figure in the corner.

Lu Chuan closed the book in his hand and stood up calmly.

"At birth, people are inherently good. Their natures are similar, but their habits differ. If they are not taught, their natures will change. The way to teach is to focus on one thing at a time..."

His voice was clear and bright, unlike the other children's hurried voices.

Only after he recited it word for word did Master Zhao's expression soften slightly.

"Sit down." The teacher put down the ruler and took a clean sheet of prepared Xuan paper from the table. "You recited it well, so I'll reward you with five sheets of paper. If you can do this in all your morning lessons from now on, you can have plenty of paper."

A series of soft gasps filled the schoolhouse. In this era, the value of paper was self-evident, and the teacher's gift made these peasant children envious.

Li Ji sat in the front row, his brush slamming heavily onto the inkstone with a dull thud.

He watched as the neat stack of white papers fell onto Lu Chuan's worn-out desk, and he was so jealous he almost gritted his teeth.

In his view, these elegant writing implements were a waste of talent, falling into the hands of that poor boy who ate tree bark.

"Thank you, Master." Lu Chuan took the paper with both hands, his fingertips touching the delicate texture of the paper, and his heart trembled slightly.