The Lucky Farmgirl

Undeterred, Manbao glared back and even pulled a face at him.

Enraged, Bai Erlang’s eyes widened.

Just then, Mr.

Zhuang passed by and lightly tapped him on the head, chiding, “Pay attention.”

Manbao couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, delighted.

When she saw Mr.

Zhuang glance over, she playfully winked at him.

The white-bearded teacher couldn’t help but shake his head and sigh.

He let it pass and simply allowed her to listen to the reading from her perch at the window.

Mr.

Zhuang said, “Today we are going to learn the last part of the Thousand Character Classic: ‘In brilliant attire, they hose their silken dresses.

Gracefully they smear on powder and gently smile.

As the years fly by, the glow of the morning gives way to the radiant dawn…

Ignorant and isolated, foolish and mocked, one who gains meaning from words, how rare are they indeed.'”

The students read each line in succession, and Manbao, standing outside the window, joined in with her childish voice, surprisingly loud.

The students inside, having grown accustomed to her presence, continued reciting along with Mr.

Zhuang undisturbed.

Manbao had been reciting the Thousand Character Classic since she could speak and had long since memorized it.

Seeing Mr.

Zhuang put down his book to let the younger students practice on their own as he walked over to the older ones to teach them something else, Manbao hopped off the stone and ran into Mr.

Zhuang’s residence.

When Mr.

Zhuang announced the end of the school day and sauntered back to his adjacent dwelling, he found Manbao had already swept in front of the door and was sitting on the ground, organizing the papers he had discarded.

Seeing Mr.

Zhuang return, Manbao happily showed him the sorted papers, “Look, teacher, the backs are still usable.”

“These are just drafts of essays I’ve ruined.

If you want them, you can take them home.”

Manbao shook her head, “The backs can still be used for calligraphy practice.

Teacher, you use them first, and once the backs are also filled, then I’ll take them.”

Unable to argue with her, Mr.

Zhuang simply took the papers and placed them on the table, pointing at another stack of fully written sheets, “Take these home with you.

If there’s any character you don’t understand, come and ask me.”

Manbao happily agreed, tidily stacking the papers and tucking them into her embrace, skipping merrily to the kitchen to find her sister-in-law.

Junior Ms.

Qian had finished cooking and was serving meals to the children.

Manbao slipped into the kitchen, greeted her sister-in-law, and then carried Mr.

Zhuang’s meal to him.

Mr.

Zhuang pointed to the mat across from him, “Sit down and eat with me.”

Manbao shook her head, “I’ll eat in the kitchen later.

This is for the teacher.

Please eat.”

Mr.

Zhuang didn’t insist.

He picked up a piece of meat and held it to her mouth.

Manbao ate it joyfully but couldn’t sit still for long and soon scampered off.

Mr.

Zhuang chuckled and shook his head, making no attempt to call her back.

Manbao ran to the kitchen, where Junior Ms.

Qian, upon seeing her, scraped the last bits of the crispy rice from the bottom of the pot into a bowl for her.

Manbao politely grabbed the crispy rice and stuffed it into her mouth, breaking off a piece to put into her sister-in-law’s mouth as well.

Junior Ms.

Qian’s face lit up with a smile, and while eating, she playfully pushed the bowl back to Manbao, insisting, “You eat, you eat.

There isn’t much anyway.”

It was just one pot of rice, and the crispy rice was only a small amount.

If she made too much, the students wouldn’t be full, which could cost her the cooking job.

Junior Ms.

Qian had been the cook in the school for three years and was very adept at managing this balance.

Mr.

Zhuang was a teacher hired by Old Master Bai, the village’s landlord.

The school was largely funded by the Bai Family in collaboration with donations from the families in the village.

When Mr.

Zhuang first started teaching here, he brought his wife and children along.

As there were also children from two neighboring villages attending the school, they couldn’t go home for lunch.

Sympathetic to their hunger, Mr.

Zhuang charged each student six jin of rice and thirtywen to have lunch at the school.

Initially, Mr.

Zhuang’s wife managed the school’s kitchen, buying vegetables from the villagers and using the rice brought by the students.

Occasionally, she would buy some meat to mince and cook for everyone.

At the end of the month, she would have only about twenty or thirtywen left over, which was considered her modest compensation for the hardship.