Xu Wan looked at him earnestly and said, "Frank advice may be unpleasant to the ear but benefits conduct. Not only do the children need to learn, but so do I. Please enlighten me, sir."
Mr. Su glanced at the test papers of the five children on the table and, mimicking her tactful manner, began his preamble: "In just over two years, you’ve trained these children to such a level. Even if they were five adults, achieving this would be difficult. Though I don’t know what teaching method you’ve employed, it has constrained their thinking—that’s why their poetry compositions are lacking. Every approach has its pros and cons. Do you understand?"
The summer sun blazed outside, but inside, the room was cooled by blocks of ice, the refreshing breeze sharpening one’s senses.
Xu Wan smiled faintly. "Yes, I understand."
Exam-oriented education could quickly boost scores, but its drawback was stifling creativity.
Su Xi continued, "These past two days, I’ve been trying to steer them back a little, but traces of your influence still bind them. Don’t look at me like that… They listen to you, and their words and actions reflect your guidance. That’s on you."
"I…" Xu Wan was left speechless.
Su Xi suddenly remarked, "You learned this way as a child too, didn’t you?"
Xu Wan: "…"
Please, sir, stop—soon you’ll have exposed all my secrets.
Noting her silence, Su Xi pressed on, "You should change your own ways first. Otherwise, even if I manage to correct them this month, over time, they’ll just revert to imitating you again. Or… if your only goal is passing the Autumn Examinations, then forget I said anything."
With that, Su Xi called for someone to take him to the eastern courtyard pond—off to check on the children again.
Xu Wan remained standing, unmoving.
Cui Zhi spoke up to console her, "Madam, don’t take Mr. Su’s words to heart. You’ve already done wonderfully. We hired him to teach the young masters precisely for the Autumn Examinations. Once the exams are over, they won’t need to compose poetry anymore—it won’t hinder their chances at the top rank."
Xu Wan murmured, "I know. Let’s return to our courtyard."
Cui Zhi nodded. "Yes, Madam should rest for a while. You love your afternoon naps, but these past two days, you haven’t slept well with all the commotion."
In her bedroom, Xu Wan lay on the bed, unable to sleep.
As Cui Zhi had said, once the Autumn Examinations were over, they wouldn’t need to study poetry anymore. That had been her original plan.
But perhaps Su Xi’s questioning had struck a chord. She recalled her own past—the relentless, exam-driven grind of her student years, waking each day only to study, memorizing everything for the sake of the college entrance exams, only to forget it all in university. The purpose of learning seemed only to be exams, prestigious schools, and high-paying jobs.
Now, she asked herself repeatedly:
What had been the true meaning of her education?
And what was the purpose of the five children’s learning?
The staunch advocate of exam-oriented education had been dismantled by Su Xi’s words. Xu Wan tossed and turned, unable to sleep until her usual waking hour, and ended up dozing until dusk.
By the time she roused, the sky had darkened.
Cui Zhi’s voice drifted in from outside. "Madam, dinner is ready."
"Oh, alright. I’ll be right there."
As she ate, Xu Wan asked, "How are things in the eastern courtyard?"
Cui Zhi replied, "Quite harmonious. The young masters were picking lotus pods in the pond for fun, and Mr. Su sat on the shore watching, unbothered by the sun. Afterward, they resumed composing poetry. They’re probably having dinner now too."
Xu Wan nodded but stood after only a few bites. "Cui Zhi, I’ve lost my appetite today. I’d like to take a walk alone—don’t follow me."
"As you wish." Cui Zhi was puzzled but complied.
The lanterns in the estate were being lit one by one as night fell. Even without Cui Zhi by her side, passing maidservants bowed and greeted her respectfully.
The estate was vast—a single stroll could take a long time—yet also small, as she encountered people no matter where she wandered.
Xu Wan arrived at the western courtyard pond, where she had been that morning. The withered lotus leaves had been cleared away, and the muddy stains along the bank scrubbed clean. Mother Zhao worked efficiently—after just an afternoon, the place was spotless again.
She remembered how Su Xi had asked her earlier if she wanted to wade into the water. She had refused, but deep down, she had wanted to. In her modern life, she’d been too consumed by studies, and in this ancient era, bound by notions of feminine virtue, she’d never had a proper childhood.
Now, with no one around, she could do as she pleased. But after a brief internal struggle… she merely sat at the water’s edge, legs dangling, and sighed, tilting her head back to gaze at the dazzling night sky.
The heavens here were radiant, the stars breathtakingly beautiful.
Xu Wan didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there when footsteps approached from behind. She said casually, "Cui Zhi, didn’t I tell you not to follow? I’ll head back soon."
The person behind her didn’t respond.
Moments later, she felt them bend down and sit beside her, legs swinging over the edge just like hers.
Xu Wan turned her head and looked up—the tall figure casting a shadow over her was definitely not Cui Zhi. Surprised, she exclaimed, "Zong Zhao?"
She instinctively moved to stand, but Zong Zhao stopped her. "The courtyard’s guarded. No one will intrude. If you enjoy sitting like this, stay a while longer. No need to worry."
Xu Wan hesitated, then settled back down.
This was just like her—striving never to stand out, to remain inconspicuous. But if no demands were made, she might occasionally indulge her own whims.
Zong Zhao asked, "Did Mr. Su’s words today upset you?"
Xu Wan understood then—Cui Zhi must have told him. Softly, she replied, "Not upset, exactly. It’s just that his teachings were profound, and I’m still puzzling over them."
"Profound?" Zong Zhao echoed.
Xu Wan: "…"
The way he said it sounded like, Only a fool wouldn’t understand—dripping with sarcasm.
But for Zong Zhao, perhaps it really was that simple?
Curious, she asked, "How old were you when you started studying?"
Xu Wan wondered—the education of ancient noble scions must have differed from modern schooling. Especially for someone like Zong Zhao, born into a military family. With a hereditary title to inherit and no pressure to earn scholarly honors—even the Old Marquis had disapproved.
Zong Zhao answered, "I began martial training at three and only started reading and writing at five. But back then, it was just basics—not even the Mengqiu primers. It wasn’t until I was ten that I decided I wanted to study properly. I even quarreled with Father over it."
Xu Wan burst into laughter. "I remember Cui Zhi saying that ‘quarrel’ was just you giving the Old Marquis the silent treatment for three days."
Zong Zhao winced at the blunt reminder.
He tried to explain, "Father was being unreasonable—he wouldn’t listen to me or respect my interests. I was furious. But he was still my father. What could I do? Ignoring him was the most rebellious act I could manage."
