The next day.
In order to sneak into the Eastern Academy before classes began, Qu Dubian woke up exceptionally early.
Just how early was it? Qu Dubian glanced at the simulator's time. It was now five in the morning, while the Eastern Academy's classes started at eight.
Forcing himself to stay awake, he completed a set of Tai Chi, then put on thick layers of clothing.
"Ye Xiaoyuan, this is thick enough. Any more and I'll turn into a ball."
Ye Xiaoyuan shook his head, and Wen Xiaochun also wore a disapproving expression.
"Xiaochun has found out clearly. The study hall uses charcoal braziers and is often ventilated. There won't be one right next to Your Highness, so you must wear more. Otherwise, what if you get a fever like last time? Although we have some medicinal herbs stored now, falling ill is still..."
Qu Dubian raised his hands in surrender.
He didn't have a mother in his past life, but in this one, he seemed to have encountered a 'male mother'.
He struggled into the final layer, reaching a point where it was difficult to even look down at his own feet, before they finally let him be.
Master and servants set out together.
A quarter of an hour earlier, Yi Shier had just dozed off when he heard movement from within the Ju'an Hall.
He immediately pinched himself and became alert.
Soon, he watched as Ye Xiaoyuan and Wen Xiaochun busied themselves in the kitchen, preparing hot water, snacks, and food. They also packed a newly sewn satchel, stuffing everything inside.
Yi Shier: ?
His eyes, narrowed to slits from sleepiness, widened.
The two then entered the main hall. Yi Shier flew up onto the roof, lifted a tile, and peered down.
Lamps were lit inside. The little prince, with a serious expression on his small face, was practicing Tai Chi on the bed. Despite nodding off from drowsiness, he stubbornly forced himself to finish the set.
Yi Shier: ??
After hastily finishing the Tai Chi and seeing his remaining lifespan increase by +1, Qu Dubian was bundled into the thick clothes. He packed his books, nibbled on a pastry, and drank some warm water.
As he ate, Ye Xiaoyuan draped a cotton cloak over him, enveloping him completely, then picked him up and handed him over to Wen Xiaochun's arms.
Wen Xiaochun, acting like a thief, hurried out of the hall carrying the child.
Ye Xiaoyuan followed alongside, holding his small bundle.
Qu Dubian actually wanted to walk by himself, but the journey was too far. He was short like a winter melon, with stubby legs—even stepping over a threshold was an effort. Walking on his own, who knew when he would arrive.
Nestled in Wen Xiaochun's arms, Qu Dubian wasn't idle.
He flipped through the beginner's books he had somehow acquired: one was the "Three Character Classic," and the other was the "Thousand Character Classic."
The Qu imperial clan of the Great Zhou dynasty hadn't existed in his world, yet surprisingly, the primers were the same.
The printed characters were roughly a variant of traditional Chinese characters. Glancing over them, he could mostly guess their meanings based on his memory of the Three Character Classic from his past life.
Qu Dubian had an excellent memory. Not quite photographic, but if he focused, he could remember something after reading it two or three times.
The issue was he didn't have the Three Character Classic and Thousand Character Classic memorized completely. Compulsory education in his past life didn't require reciting them in full; he only remembered about half.
Moreover, even if he could recite them, it was according to modern Mandarin pronunciation, which was vastly different from the official language of Great Zhou, which seemed to be in a Middle Chinese period. Also, with different dynasties, the meaning of the characters might differ from his past life's memory. The bits he could barely match up weren't enough to support him in writing about his experiences with illness.
But it wasn't a big problem.
He just needed to find someone to read them to him a couple of times, explain the meanings, and, combined with this body's original memory of pronunciation, he could remember them well enough.
-
Eastern Academy, Sixth Hall.
Qu Dubian and his two servants avoided the guards, winding their way through and crawling in from a dog hole on the other side.
The agile Wen Xiaochun was the first to climb into the study hall. No one had arrived yet, but the lamps were already lit.
He propped open a window, leaned out, reached to pull Qu Dubian inside, then took the small bundle handed over by Ye Xiaoyuan.
Naturally, there was no seat for Qu Dubian in the study hall. His hiding place was under the Grand Tutor's desk—that large table was covered with a pale cyan brocade cloth, shrouded tightly all around, more than enough to conceal a small child.
Qu Dubian crawled inside and took his small bundle. He was not yet three years old, couldn't see the Emperor, and had no immediate access to literate palace servants. If he wanted to learn to read characters, he could only do so sneakily like this.
"Xiaochun, don't worry, Ye Xiaoyuan and I will be fine. I won't be discovered." Although someone was already secretly watching, he would try his best not to be noticed by others.
Wen Xiaochun acknowledged with a sound and reminded him, "There are pastries in the bundle, Little Highness. Eat if you're hungry."
Qu Dubian: "Mhm. You both remember to eat too."
He urged, "Hurry and go now. Don't get caught."
Leaving such a small child alone here, no one could truly feel at ease. Wen Xiaochun was about to say more when his ears twitched, catching the sound of footsteps outside.
He had no choice but to say, "Then this servant will leave first. If you are discovered and someone gives you trouble, just state your identity. It will be alright."
"Mhm."
Wen Xiaochun lightened his steps, nimbly climbed out the window, landed without a sound, and conveniently closed the window behind him.
Qu Dubian let the desk's curtain fall, feeling a bit envious of Xiaochun's agility and recalling Yi Shier's concealment skills.
The other princes and the teacher hadn't arrived yet. He poked the simulator: [Does this world have internal energy/neigong?]
Simulator: [Yes.]
"!!"
Qu Dubian's impression of internal energy was still stuck on actors flying around on wires in film studios.
Ask any Chinese person—who doesn't have a martial arts dream?
He quickly asked: [Can I learn it?]
Simulator: [The host's body is too weak. For now, the only thing you can learn is Tai Chi.]
So he could learn it in the future. That was fine too. After all, laying a solid foundation was most important for mastering anything. However, with this thought, a question popped up. He poked the simulator again:
[So what's the actual use of this martial arts training check-in? Aren't you a Disease Simulator?]
The simulator's answer was very practical:
[The simulator can mitigate the physical damage caused by simulated diseases to the host's body, but the upper limit of this mitigation is the host body's threshold of near-collapse.
Therefore, the simulator designs martial arts training programs based on the host's physical data to increase the host's bodily endurance limit and unlock more diseases. Only in this way can it be ensured that the host's body won't collapse while experiencing more diseases.]
"......"
Qu Dubian fell into thought.
He had asked casually, but it turned out there really was a reason.
This rule was a form of mandatory protection for the simulator's user.
After all, although his soul was nineteen, his body was just over two years old. If he bore too severe an illness, once the simulator reached its mitigation limit, this toddler's body would only face collapse.
Quite reasonable.
But... what's the difference between this and those wicked capitalists who design training plans for employees, with the ultimate goal of squeezing more value out of them?
Qu Dubian: "What about the one for making friends? That doesn't seem related to experiencing diseases either."
Simulator: [Diseases are ultimately diseases. Even as simulations, they can cause a degree of unpleasantness for hosts with sensitive dispositions. Accumulated over time, psychological issues may arise.
Spontaneously arising psychological problems cannot be cured by the simulator.
Setting a high lifespan value reward can encourage the host to actively make many friends, as kindred spirits can bring joy, soothe the mind, and reduce the occurrence of mental health issues.]
Qu Dubian was puzzled: "Didn't you consider the possibility that the host might be socially anxious?"
Simulator: [...]
The simulator stalled for a moment: [This scenario has been recorded.]
Qu Dubian: "What about the prize from the fifteen-day check-in draw? Could you even draw out an elixir?"
[For the prize draw after completing fifteen days of martial arts training check-ins, physical rewards will not exceed the current developmental state of the host's world. If the host uses it and likes it, they can purchase it from the backpack using remaining lifespan points.]
The child under the table couldn't help but widen his eyes.
All that talk about caring for mental health was just a smokescreen. The simulator's real goal was to cultivate a long-lived, well-adjusted worker bee.
And this prize draw system—how was it any different from the sweeteners game developers used to lure players into spending money in his past life? There truly was no such thing as a free breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
The lifespan points earned through the simulator were spent right back on it. The simulator harvested both labor and 'currency,' achieving a perfect cycle of internal consumption.
Qu Dubian couldn't help but rub his arms.
He was just a two-year-old child! Evil capitalists.
Outside, palace maids pushed open the schoolroom door, placing charcoal braziers beside each low desk.
"Today, the teacher assigned to the schoolroom is Grand Tutor Fang, right?"
"That's correct. Among the three teachers, only Grand Tutor Fang is most fond of striking palms. I wonder how many princes will be beaten today."
"Oh, sisters, do any of you know why Teacher Xi requested leave?" The young palace maid who asked this had a faint blush of embarrassment on her cheeks.
The other maids around her immediately shot her a stern look: "Be careful with your words while serving in the palace! Don't say things you shouldn't!" Then, lowering their voices to share gossip, "I heard it's because the concubine in Teacher Xi's household, who gave birth to a son a few years ago, recently had a daughter, and shortly after, she passed away. Somehow it's been linked to the main wife... Anyway, his household is in some turmoil. Teacher Xi asked for a few days off to handle family matters."
The young maid was surprised: "Teacher Xi is the most upright and proper gentleman. How could his inner household be unsettled?"
"Actually, it's all a troubled fate. That concubine wasn't someone Teacher Xi willingly married. It caused quite a stir back then. You entered the palace later; I'll tell you the details after our shift."
Their conversation was hushed, and they moved orderly, placing the braziers before quietly slipping out, leaving Qu Dubian inwardly sighing in regret, a kitten's paw scratching relentlessly at his heart.
How infuriating! Leaving halfway through gossip is truly immoral!
Fortunately, not long after the maids left, the various princes coming for lessons arrived one after another.
Besides Qu Dubian, the Great Zhou currently had six other princes.
The First Prince was thirteen, the Second Prince twelve, and the Third Prince eleven. These three older princes arrived early.
While unwrapping his small bundle, taking out his charcoal pencil, paper, and the "Three Character Classic," Qu Dubian listened to the princes talking outside.
It made him quite emotional. Ancient people matured early; some were married with children by thirteen or fourteen. The ancient royalty were the earliest maturers among the early. At an age when modern kids were playing jump rope, they were already playing mind games.
He heard the First Prince say: "If your health is poor, just rest properly. Pretending to cough all day while arriving at school earlier than anyone else. You just want the tutors to praise your diligence to Father a few more times, don't you?"
The Third Prince, somewhat thin and pale, forced a bitter smile: "Elder Brother misunderstands me. This younger brother merely believes studies are more important. It's not just about wanting Father's praise."
As he spoke, he made as if to rise and offer an apology.
The Second Prince reached out to stop the Third Prince by the arm: "Third Brother, why go that far? Elder Brother is only concerned about your frail health. We are all brothers. If you were to bow, wouldn't you make Elder Brother bear the reputation of being jealous of his sibling?"
The Third Prince looked remorseful: "I was foolish, not considering that. Then I won't apologize. Elder Brother won't hold it against me, right?"
"You—"
The First Prince felt inexplicably stifled. It was always like this, making him seem like he was bullying the other, when it was just a few exchanged barbs.
"Alright, alright, stop arguing."
Qu Dubian had, after all, fought his way out of a talent show in his past life. He understood the underlying subtext in these conversations perfectly.
It's just that the Third Prince's act of playing innocent wasn't very skillful yet—still too young.
Qu Dubian arranged his charcoal pencil, paper, and books, then began quietly nibbling on a pastry. It was a bit dry; he used his small front teeth to gnaw at it bit by bit.
He had gotten up too early today and only had time to prepare some snacks to stave off hunger.
Another set of footsteps sounded outside.
The three younger princes had also arrived.
The Fourth and Fifth Princes were both five, and the Sixth Prince had just turned four.
"Greetings to our three elder royal brothers," the three little ones said.
"Greetings. Take your seats quickly," the Second Prince said gently.
The First and Third Princes also ceased their exchange, nodding to their younger brothers before sitting at their own desks.
Their studies were more advanced, so their seats were in the row on the right.
The three younger brothers, whose progress couldn't match their elders', sat in the row on the left.
The princes' personal eunuchs stood in a row at the back of the schoolroom.
After a while, Grand Tutor Fang entered, holding a ruler in one hand and a book scroll in the other.
He appeared to be in his forties or fifties, with a salt-and-pepper beard. His face wore a kindly smile, not showing any trace of the ferocity the maids had described.
His gaze swept around the room. Grand Tutor Fang stroked his beard and smiled: "Very good. No one is late today."
All six princes, regardless of age, sighed in relief.
"Close your books. We'll have a review quiz before the lesson, covering the material from last time. There will be penalties for those who can't recite it." The old man's voice held a slightly playful note.
The princes collectively drew a sharp, cold breath, and the frantic sound of pages flipping was unmistakable.
Grand Tutor Fang shot a sidelong glance: "No flipping through books. Doing so will be considered failing the quiz."
Under the desk.
Qu Dubian's pupils trembled with shock as he stealthily swallowed a bite of his cake.
Indeed, students of any era could not escape the fear instilled by their teachers.
The schoolroom door was closed, but the faint sound of Grand Tutor Fang's droning voice could be heard.
Yi Shier, hidden in the bushes outside, dodged bird droppings falling from the sky. He lowered his head, bewildered and mechanical, sketching on paper a child squeezing through a dog hole, climbing under a desk.
He never dreamed in his wildest dreams that this simple sketching assignment would instantly escalate into a surveillance and reporting job.
