Can We Get Married First?  5

Chapter 5

They arrived at Class 6, Grade 10 during break time.

Exhausted from a morning of classes and quizzes, the students were listless, napping or flirting with their crushes.

Chi Lin noticed each student had their own desk and chair. The style and material were different from the Imperial Academy, and even the posture was different, but the individual seating arrangement was similar.

She scanned the room and spotted an empty desk in the corner.

There was a broom next to it and a few bins filled with trash. It didn’t look very clean.

A girl with a ponytail at the neighboring desk saw Chi Lin and waved cheerfully.

“You finally made it!”

Chi Lin concluded that the corner desk was hers.

People in this era sat differently.

Chi Lin was used to kneeling, while they sat on high chairs, legs casually positioned.

It looked comfortable, but also undisciplined.

To avoid standing out, Chi Lin mimicked them, sitting on the chair.

She couldn’t very well kneel on it.

She took off her backpack and tried to stuff it into the drawer, but it was already overflowing.

Carefully, she removed the contents.

A pile of snack wrappers, discarded electronics… Chi Lin couldn’t identify most of the items. Then, from the depths of the drawer, she pulled out a pot. That, she recognized.

A pot… in a classroom?

It seemed the Dean was right. This student was indeed undisciplined, bringing a cooking pot to school.

The pot slipped from Chi Lin’s grasp and clattered to the floor.

Mr. Xia, the Chinese teacher, had just entered the classroom. Hearing the clang, his face darkened.

“Who’s so hungry they couldn’t wait to get their dinnerware out?”

The class erupted in laughter. Mr. Xia made eye contact with Chi Lin and understood immediately.

He placed his digital pen and tablet on his desk.

“Let me remind certain students that even if they don’t care about their own education, they shouldn’t disrupt others. This is a classroom, not a hot pot restaurant. You’ll have plenty of time for hot pot when you’re expelled.”

Everyone knew who he was talking about and cast amused glances at Chi Lin.

Though she was in the body of a teenager, with an absurd appearance, her soul was that of a thirty-two-year-old veteran of court politics. She had held numerous important positions: scholar, minister, general, Empress. She had experienced exile. Her life had been far more eventful than most people would experience in two lifetimes.

Now, in this strange era, sitting among children, her perspective was different.

Neither the children’s nor the teacher’s mockery fazed her.

The girl who had waved was Liu Huixin, her deskmate.

She picked up the pot, placed it back in the drawer, and whispered, “Don’t mind them. You do you. It’s almost autumn, time to nourish yourself.”

She gave Chi Lin a bright smile.

Chi Lin saw the genuine kindness in her smile. She needed a way into this new world. Her deskmate, with whom she would spend the most time, was the perfect source of information.

This connection seemed promising.

Mr. Xia instructed the class to turn to page 23, lesson 7.

Chi Lin didn’t move. She had nothing to turn to.

Her backpack contained only cosmetics and electronic devices, no books.

And her desk held only junk and a pot.

Yet, she wasn’t the only one empty-handed. None of the other students had textbooks. When the teacher mentioned page 23, they all looked down and tapped their desks with metal styluses.

Chi Lin realized she had reached another knowledge boundary. She discreetly observed her deskmate.

Liu Huixin pressed a button on her desk, and a glass screen lit up.

Chi Lin recognized it. It was similar to the screens at the internet cafe, just smaller.

Liu Huixin’s photo and name appeared on the screen. Chi Lin memorized them.

Imitating Liu Huixin, she pressed the button and swiped the screen with her stylus.

To her delight, the screen offered not only games but also textbooks.

She wasn’t sure what “Chinese” entailed in this era, but it likely pertained to language and literature.

She quickly browsed the textbook, her excitement growing. It contained many classic works she knew.

From Li Sao to Short Songs and Preface to the Poems Composed at the Orchid Pavilion, they were all here.

She was moved that even in this technologically advanced future, students still studied these classics.

However, the simplified characters posed a slight challenge.

They differed from the traditional characters she was accustomed to.

Some were simplified versions of traditional characters, while others were phonetic substitutions.

As a scholar of the Five Classics, Chi Lin quickly discerned the patterns. Even with guesswork, she could understand the meaning.

Engrossed in the textbook, she read passage after passage.

Besides familiar classics, there were also many unfamiliar, modern works.

Their themes and emotions intrigued her. She read intently, oblivious to her surroundings, until Liu Huixin nudged her. She looked up, startled, and heard Mr. Xia calling her name.

“Chi Lin!” Mr. Xia’s voice was sharp. “Are you asleep again?”

Chi Lin met his gaze, the entire class watching with a mixture of amusement and despair.

She had a bad habit of losing herself in a good book.

She hadn’t heard a word the teacher said.

Yesterday, Mr. Xia had assigned homework, including reading and memorizing the entire Xiaoyaoyou.

The dreaded moment had arrived.

Every student knew the difficulty of memorizing Xiaoyaoyou.

The teachers had conspired to assign a mountain of homework last night. Many students had stayed up late, dreading the daunting task of memorizing this ancient text.

During morning reading, they had shared their struggles, lamenting their inability to retain the complex prose.

And Mr. Xia was notorious for his surprise inspections and devious methods.

Reciting one by one? In their dreams.

He preferred a more unpredictable approach.

Today, he used the Cultural Festival as leverage.

“Are you all looking forward to the Cultural Festival next month?” he asked with a smile, after finishing the day’s lesson.

Wary of his cunning, the students remained silent, afraid to fall into his trap.

The Cultural Festival was an annual event at South Lake Third High School.

Except for the graduating class, all students could participate or watch performances organized by their classes.

With the increasing pressure of academics, the Cultural Festival was a rare opportunity for Grade 10 students to relax before the hell of Grade 11. They had been eagerly anticipating it since the start of the semester.

With only a month left and program selections underway, Mr. Xia dropped the bomb.

“Your participation in the Cultural Festival depends on your performance today. If you can recite Xiaoyaoyou, you can participate. If not, I’ll report it to your homeroom teacher. Several teachers, myself included, believe your grades are suffering because you’re not focused on your studies. Last month, Class 6 ranked last in the entire grade, by a significant margin. With such poor academic performance, you should be studying, not wasting time on the Cultural Festival. I’m sure your homeroom teacher and the grade level director will agree.”

A few disgruntled murmurs rippled through the class. A faint “What the f*ck” could be heard from the back.

Mr. Xia began calling out names, each student reciting a section of Xiaoyaoyou. He would interrupt them randomly and call on another student to continue.

The recitation would continue until the entire text was complete. A single mistake would jeopardize their participation in the Cultural Festival.

This method was nerve-wracking. Anyone could be called on, and no one knew which section they would have to recite.

“Alright, everyone, look at me. No more last-minute cramming,” Mr. Xia said. “Qi Yong.”

The first student was lucky. The opening passage was the easiest.

Qi Yong stood and recited flawlessly:

“In the Northern Darkness there is a fish, and its name is Kun. The Kun is so huge I don’t know how many thousands of li it is across. It transforms into a bird whose name is Peng. The back of the Peng measures I don’t know how many thousands of li across; when it rises up and flies off…”

“Good. Sit down. Wei Zhuoning.”

Wei Zhuoning clenched her fists. Perfect! I fell asleep last night right after memorizing this part!

A flicker of memory remained as she stood, but she stammered as she began:

“When it rises up and flies off, its wings are like clouds all across the sky… This bird, when the sea begins to move, intends to migrate to… the Southern Darkness. The Southern Darkness—that is the Pool of Heaven. Qixie… is a book… of strange tales…”

She managed to squeeze out the last few words, her mind completely blank after that.

Fortunately, Mr. Xia let her sit down and called on the next student.

Everyone was trembling. The further the recitation progressed, the higher the chance of failure, of becoming the class pariah.

This was the most terrifying moment for Class 6, Grade 10.

Two more students struggled through their sections, one making a mistake. Mr. Xia glared at him.

“Are you sure about that?”

With covert help from classmates, the student corrected himself.

Mr. Xia smiled coldly. “Your helpfulness is misplaced.”

Damn. Don’t let those four eyes fool you. He’s sharp.

“That’s not helpfulness,” Mr. Xia continued. “That’s cheating. Can you help him for the rest of his life? In the real world, you have to rely on yourself. Abandon this mentality of getting something for nothing. Take a good look at yourselves…”

As he lectured, he noticed the girl with the ridiculous hair in the corner looking down.

Hadn’t he told them to look up and stop cramming?

“Chi Lin.” Mr. Xia’s sharp gaze pierced through his thick lenses.

It was over.

The class’s hopes plummeted.

Of all people, why Chi Lin? Was Mr. Xia deliberately trying to sabotage their chances of enjoying the Cultural Festival?

Chi Lin, perpetually last in the class. Her position was unshakeable.

In all subjects, her scores barely reached double digits, except for the humanities, where she managed a 43, and Chinese, a 32.

Even the homeroom teacher was puzzled by her abysmal performance.

Even random guessing should yield better results.

As Chi Lin slowly stood, her dazed expression confirmed everyone’s fears. She didn’t know it.

It was a disaster.

After single-handedly dragging down the class average in the monthly exams, Chi Lin was about to ruin their Cultural Festival.

Chi Lin looked bewildered. Mr. Xia, anticipating this, chuckled and even gave her a hint.

“And now the water doesn’t gather thickly enough to support a large boat without sinking. Continue from there. Just one more sentence, and you pass.”

Wei Zhuoning, sitting across the aisle, saw Liu Huixin whispering to Chi Lin, “A cup of water… a cup of water!”

Wei Zhuoning rolled her eyes.

Liu Huixin didn’t know if Chi Lin had heard. The entire class was staring at them with a mixture of anxiety and anger.

Liu Huixin discreetly opened Chi Lin’s tablet to the Xiaoyaoyou page, hoping she would cheat.

Mr. Xia, peering between the heads of the students in front, spotted this.

He was about to reprimand Chi Lin for cheating when Chi Lin calmly closed the tablet.

Liu Huixin: “?”

Chi Lin began to recite, slowly and clearly:

“Overturn a cup of water in a hollow in the floor, and a mustard seed can float on it as a boat. But place the cup there and it will stick fast, because the water is shallow and the boat is large…

“Small understanding does not reach great understanding, any more than a short lifespan can compare with a long one…

“…Therefore it is said, ‘The Perfect Man has no self; the Holy Man has no merit; the Sage has no name.’”

Without hesitation, Chi Lin recited the entire passage to the very last word.

Mr. Xia hadn’t even had a chance to stop her.