Preface II A Youth with Dreams, a Traveler Without Bounds (Part One)

After finishing his tea, Fang Zheng gently set the bowl down on the table. He rose, straightened his clothes, and walked outside. Today would be his final lesson. It had been three years since King Liang established village schools across the country, and now, deeming the time ripe, he was founding official schools, organized at the county level and above. This was rather reminiscent of the educational system back on Earth. When Fang Zheng first heard the news, he was truly astonished; for such a model to appear within their current social structure was nothing short of incredible.

After today's lesson, Fang Zheng would lead his students to the county to enroll in the official academy. Before admission, there would be an entrance examination, and he was curious to see what kind of results his students would produce.

His dwelling was not far from the schoolhouse, so Fang Zheng arrived quickly. He found dozens of young students quietly immersed in their reading, with not one indulging in play or chatter. Fang Zheng was deeply satisfied, though not because of any strict discipline on his part. As a modern person, his teaching methods were far ahead of those in this society—serious, yet never harsh. The studious atmosphere was largely owed to the students and their families. For the common people of Liang, studying had once been a luxury, affordable only to the wealthy. Writing tools and books were extravagant items, and finding a teacher was harder still. Now, thanks to imperial grace, they had the chance to study, and thus cherished it immensely. Moreover, Fang Zheng's novel and engaging teaching style had made learning all the more appealing to these youths.

"Good morning, Sir!" rang out a unified, spirited greeting, bright as the rising sun. Fang Zheng smiled gently and replied, "Good morning, everyone." With a slight downward gesture of his hands, he signaled the students to be seated. In each young face below, respect for their teacher was clear—proof that Fang Zheng had succeeded in his role.

"Today, I will not teach you anything new," he said. "Let us simply talk. The words in books are dead; I have always stressed the need to learn with living understanding. Reading ten thousand books is not as valuable as traveling ten thousand miles. Tomorrow, you will go to the county, and I know you will feel reluctant to part from your parents, but such is a necessary step in growing up. The county town will be a new starting point in your lives. Only by leaving this small Qingniu can you witness the wonders of the world. Whatever fate awaits you in the future, whatever paths you may take, I hope you will never betray your hearts, never forget your parents, never break your integrity or disgrace your name. I may be but a passerby in your lives; I do not ask you to remember me, only that I will not one day hear that any of you have become a traitor or a scoundrel. That would disappoint me. That is all I have to say today. I wish each of you a bright and promising future."

Fang Zheng had spoken at length, and the students, sensing the gravity of the day, listened with unusual attentiveness, as if imprinting every word upon their hearts. No matter what the future held, in this moment, all the youths here were the same: grateful to Fang Zheng, respectful of him, and aware of the immense kindness this seemingly ordinary young teacher had shown them—a kindness as weighty as a mountain. "He who enlightens me, his grace is as vast as the sky. He who guides me, his affection as deep as the sea." These were not his own words but lines from their books, yet the students remembered them well.

"Please rest assured, sir. We will never forget you, nor will we ever let you down," declared Ji Changyun, a bright-eyed youth of thirteen or fourteen, standing up resolutely. He was the class monitor, chosen by Fang Zheng for his seniority, diligence, and intelligence.

"Please rest assured, sir..." the students repeated in unison, their voices clear and unwavering. The sunlight shone on their youthful faces, lending the scene a sacred dignity.

A gentle smile played on Fang Zheng's lips. He was deeply, genuinely pleased. Though he had become the teacher of Qingniu Village initially out of practical considerations, over these three years he had devoted himself wholeheartedly, never once neglecting his duties. He sought no reward—only that these young people might have brilliant futures, and not, like their ancestors, toil away their lives in this small village generation after generation.

"Thank you all. I will remember you as well. Gather your things and return home now. Tomorrow, when we go to the county, you will likely all pass the entrance exam and live at the academy. The journey is not short, and you will not often return. Spend today with your parents, and tomorrow morning I will lead you on your way."

Leaving the schoolhouse, Fang Zheng returned to his own courtyard. In three years, much had changed—he had learned to cook, to grow vegetables, and other useful skills. Yet some things remained unchanged, such as his eating habits. In the modern world, meals were varied and plentiful, but in Qingniu Village, food was simple—a matter of the society’s productivity. Fang Zheng was not particular about food, but he still kept to three meals a day. Breakfast was usually rice porridge and steamed buns with pickles; lunch was noodles; supper, the simplest, just some tea and whatever was at hand. It was now time for his meal.

Yesterday, Zhang Qi had given him a deer leg. Before leaving this morning, Fang Zheng had cleaned and set it to stew, and by now, it must be perfectly tender. The thought made him eager, his appetite suddenly keen, and he headed straight for the kitchen. Though small, his courtyard was well appointed, a testament to the care the villagers had put into its construction.

As he approached the kitchen, the savory aroma of venison wafted out to greet him, stoking his hunger further. It was not that he was greedy, but the mountain deer here was a true delicacy; even simply salted, it surpassed any gourmet fare on Earth. Meat was a rarity in Qingniu Village, but as the teacher, Fang Zheng had more opportunities than most, and thanks to Zhang Qi, the hunter, he could enjoy such treats once or twice a month.

Entering the kitchen, he heard the crackling of the firewood and the bubbling of the iron pot. He took up the wooden ladle, lifted the lid, and began to serve himself a bowl of venison.

A while later, Fang Zheng sat at his table, tea in hand, feeling utterly content. With such fine tea and delicious food, this seemed to him the life of an immortal. Reflecting on the past three years and his impending departure, he felt a tinge of reluctance. Yet he knew, too, that this was not his journey’s end—merely a waypoint. His years here had been spent preparing, learning the ways of this world, and readying himself for the road ahead.