All the students were sitting in perfect order, but Ji Huai frowned as his gaze swept across the room, noticing the absence of A Hua’s small figure.

At that moment, A Hua was hiding by the wall, curled up into a tiny ball, looking utterly pitiful. Timid and hesitant, she didn’t dare enter the room without Ji Huai’s permission.

Having just sternly herded all the mischievous boys into the classroom with a displeased expression, Ji Huai turned around and his demeanor shifted with remarkable speed. Stepping out of the classroom, his eyes softened with warmth and encouragement, a cheerful smile gracing his lips. “Little Hua, come on in.”

Inside, a group of children craned their necks to peer at the doorway, only shrinking back when Ji Huai shot them a fierce glare. They pretended to be absorbed in their books, swaying their heads as if reciting.

A Hua also peeked inside, and seeing that no one was speaking, she slowly trailed behind Ji Huai as he entered.

“Enough with the pretense. Look up,” Ji Huai said, tapping the disciplinary ruler against the desk. The crisp sound cut through the drowsy morning, drawing everyone’s attention. All the students turned their eyes to Ji Huai and A Hua standing beside him.

Xiao Hu was the first to let out a mocking cry, “Hey, flower girl, are you here to sell flowers at the schoolhouse?”

A chorus of snickers erupted from the surrounding children. Ji Huai’s brow furrowed, and he slammed the ruler hard against the desk. “Quiet!”

Cowed by the Teacher’s authority, everyone fell silent at once, their eyes darting around like oversized light bulbs.

“Come, A Hua,” Ji Huai said, his expression softening as he gently guided her by the arm. “Starting today, A Hua will be studying here with all of you.”

“Aah—” The children gaped in astonishment, with only Lin Heyu remaining composed, arms crossed as he sat calmly in his seat.

“Come on, A Hua, introduce yourself.”

This was the standard procedure. After all, Ji Huai wasn’t from this era, and his teaching habits still adhered to the principles of a 21st-century educator.

A Hua was somewhat shy, but under Ji Huai’s gentle, encouraging gaze, she mustered the courage to step forward. Taking a deep breath to steady her voice, she said, “My name is A Hua.”

“Hmm?” Ji Huai frowned slightly. The sunlight streaming through the window illuminated A Hua’s tense yet youthful face. He voiced his confusion, “A Hua? No family name?”

“No,” A Hua shook her head, answering naturally but with a hint of uncertainty. “Girls are given such humble names to ensure they’re easy to raise. When we grow up and marry in our teens, we take our husband’s surname.”

Ji Huai’s expression darkened. He knew this dynasty didn’t exist in the long river of history, but it was still an extremely feudal and backward era—backward in thought, civilization, and understanding. Yet, he couldn’t help but feel deeply troubled by the plight of women here. He hadn’t been in this Qing Dynasty for long and hadn’t met many women. A Hua was the only one who had made him aware of the challenges women faced in pursuing education. He had mentally prepared himself, but clearly, his preparations had been insufficient.

Ji Huai sighed. His influence was limited, and he couldn’t change much, but he would do his utmost to protect his students.

He patted A Hua’s head, his tone gentle and affectionate. “It’s alright. When you have ideas in the future, you can give yourself a proper name. If you don’t mind, I’d be honored to witness it.”

A Hua’s eyes gradually brightened with Ji Huai’s words. Through his calm and elegant face, she seemed to glimpse a future filled with hope—a path she had never encountered before.

That path might be thorny and rugged, but Teacher Ji Huai gazed at her with such gentle seriousness, as if fearing nothing at all.

It will come true, it must come true!

“Mm! Thank you, Teacher. That day will surely come.” A Hua’s eyes sparkled, her small fists clenched tightly as she looked at Ji Huai with boundless hope and trust.

That unconditional trust in a student’s gaze touched Ji Huai’s heart. He blinked, his slender eyes curving slightly, and the sense of responsibility inherent to being a people’s teacher welled up within him. His green robe fluttered in the wind, and in that moment, it seemed a new purpose had taken root in his heart.

Lin Heyu sat quietly below the platform, his gaze docilely fixed on Ji Huai. The soft morning light enveloped him, casting a holy glow over this fox-eyed man. Even dressed in the plainest worn clothes, he radiated an aura of divinity and nobility.

Ji Huai paid no more mind to the boys’ strange shouts and their varied youthful expressions. Scanning the room, he finally had A Hua take the seat beside Lin Heyu.

Lin Heyu rested his chin in his hand, watching Ji Huai begin the lesson with focused intensity, his eyes overflowing with unconcealed admiration.

The morning passed quickly. Even Li Xiaohu’s younger brother didn’t cry, quietly chewing on his fingers instead. Seeing this thriving scene filled Ji Huai’s heart with tenderness. In this moment, he felt he had discovered the meaning of his transmigration to this place.

He harbored no grand ambitions, but he could try to use his own strength to change this small village.

A Hua knew few characters, but she diligently followed along as Ji Huai and her classmates read aloud, mimicking their movements. Noticing her struggle, Ji Huai asked her to stay after class for extra lessons.

As soon as class ended, the half-grown boys swarmed out, leaving only A Hua and Lin Heyu in the classroom in an instant.

Lin Heyu didn’t leave—he lived with Ji Huai. A Hua remained because Ji Huai had asked her to stay.

“A Hua, no need to rush. Take it slowly. I’ll teach you the basics first.” Ji Huai put away the Analects on the table and instead found a most elementary primer, offering it to A Hua.

But A Hua didn’t dare accept it, waving her hands repeatedly, her face flushing crimson. Her thin, small frame appeared even more fragile in the sunlight. “Teacher, my tuition fee is already meager. I can’t take your book,” she said.

Though her words refused, the longing in her luminous eyes was almost tangible.

To her, books were like stars in the sky—something she hardly dared to dream of. Yet she yearned for them, so she made her own bamboo slips, carving marks with a small knife, treating them as her own private books.

This little secret she kept to herself, pursing her lips while her large eyes brimmed with desire to possess a real book.

Ji Huai felt a hint of playful mischief. Toward his exceptionally well-behaved student, he always had infinite patience. But A Hua was different. Yesterday when he saw her, she was a bright, sunny girl, not timid or restrained. Today’s drastic change suggested she still hadn’t adjusted to schoolhouse life.

“Ah, if A Hua doesn’t want it, let’s give it to Lin Xiaoniao.” Ji Huai raised his eyebrows with a sly smile, handing the copy of “Introduction to Classical Studies” to Lin Heyu.

Ji Huai had thought this through perfectly—A Hua clearly liked the book but had refused out of shyness. By giving it to thick-skinned Lin Heyu, he could use this “brick” to draw out the timid “uncut jade” that was A Hua. With this approach, surely A Hua would adapt quickly.

The idea was sound, but Ji Huai had overestimated his tacit understanding with Lin Heyu.

Lin Heyu had no intention of interfering with Ji Huai’s teaching plan, nor did he grasp Ji Huai’s intention to open A Hua’s heart. When Ji Huai handed him the book, he solemnly accepted it, then added: “I read this stuff when I was three years old.”

Ji Huai: …

One shy, one fool—my teaching career is in jeopardy.

Annoyed, he rapped Lin Heyu on the head and tried to take the book back, only to find the tattered, dog-eared volume firmly clutched in Lin Heyu’s hands, seemingly reluctant to let go.

“?” Ji Huai was truly baffled now. The one who disliked the book as elementary was him, and the one clinging to it was also Lin Heyu. This child, wasn’t he contradictory?

Lin Heyu also felt somewhat embarrassed, but more than that, he felt confused. He glared at Ji Huai’s innocent expression and muttered angrily: “You already gave it to me, how can you take it back?”

Seeing them at an impasse, A Hua hurried forward to mediate: “Don’t worry, Xiaoniao, the book, the book…” Her gaze unconsciously drifted toward the book, and she swallowed regretfully before continuing her understanding advice: “The book was given by the Teacher. The Teacher is a good person.”

Ji Huai watched the two with amusement, casually noting to himself that he’d received another “good person card.”

It was just a book. Ji Huai hadn’t expected his whimsical teasing to leave both so attached. He quickly returned to the bookshelf, rummaging left and right until he found a more suitable book.

He beckoned to A Hua and said: “Come here.”

A Hua cast one last longing glance at the “Introduction to Classical Studies” still tightly gripped by Lin Heyu, then obediently ran to Ji Huai’s side.

Lin Heyu pressed his lips together, equally puzzled by his own childish behavior.

He’d read this book sitting on his father’s lap at age three. Even if he’d mostly forgotten the content, it was truly useless to him now.

This was a children’s primer, long since unsuitable for him.

But when Ji Huai handed it to him, his bright eyes held a bewitching smile and dazzling sunlight—so passionate, so genuine, as if what he held wasn’t some shabby book but a world treasure.

How could Lin Heyu bear to return it?

Lin Heyu felt thoroughly embarrassed by his own foolish behavior. He could clearly see the desire in A Hua’s eyes, but…

He really didn’t want to give it up.

Fortunately, Ji Huai’s voice broke the awkward moment. Following the sound, he saw A Hua had already reached Ji Huai’s side, standing respectfully with hands at her sides, calling out “Teacher.”

A Hua’s obedience restored some of Ji Huai’s confidence from his days as an outstanding 21st-century teacher. He patted A Hua’s head and gently unfolded the book in his hands for her to see.

“‘Introduction to Classical Studies’ isn’t suitable for a clever child like you. I think you’ll prefer this ‘Hundred Family Surnames.’ At least we can start by learning to write your own surname, alright?”

A Hua’s eyes instantly lit up. She no longer dared to hesitate, fearing that the Teacher who received no response might give the book to Lin Heyu the next second.

She hastily and reverently accepted the book Ji Huai handed over with both hands. The small dimples at the corners of her mouth curved into shallow indentations as she suppressed her excitement, nodding vigorously with a firm “Mm!”

“Thank you, Teacher!”

Only then did Ji Huai smile in relief, declaring clearly: “A Hua, don’t treat me as some lofty Teacher. You may call me teacher – we are equals. I impart knowledge to you, and in the future, you will master this knowledge and apply it to broader fields to change yourself. This is what you should strive for, not being timid and restrained.”

“If men can achieve great things between heaven and earth, why can’t women?”

Ji Huai raised his eyebrows with dignified pride, standing tall and graceful under the brilliant sunlight. The scorching sun could not bend his straight backbone, nor could feudal society diminish his remarkable integrity.

Lin Heyu and A Hua gazed at Ji Huai with unified, worshipful eyes.