Li Guanyi stopped in his tracks to make way for a passing carriage.
Once the carriage came to a halt, a maid with twin braids dressed in a duck-egg green jacket jumped down first. She turned around and reached up to assist a woman out of the carriage. The woman was tall, dressed in a teal gown, with lotus-colored shoes and white silk stockings. Her hair, dark as clouds, was neatly arranged, though from this angle only her graceful back could be seen as she was helped inside.
The coachman cracked his whip again, parking the carriage neatly by the wall.
Li Guanyi paid no attention to this little episode.
He simply handed over the letter to someone from the academy, who then led him inside. This private academy was vast. The attendant told him to take a look around while he went to deliver the letter to the Liu family's tutor. Li Guanyi nodded and waited, letting his gaze drift across the grounds.
The Liu Family Academy.
Though he'd long heard of its grandeur, standing inside gave him a very different impression compared to viewing it from the outside. Everywhere there were groves of bamboo, clusters of orchids, and elegant buildings hidden among them. Boys walked to and fro, ranging from seven or eight years old to young men in their early twenties. They wore fine silk garments, adorned with jade pendants, jeweled swords, and scented sachets. Every one of them carried a book, immersed in scholarly study.
Li Guanyi stood there quietly in his plain, grayish-brown clothes, washed so often they had faded nearly white. His expression remained calm.
But inwardly, he was thinking.
Indeed, this Liu Family Academy was enormous. If he could establish himself here, it would certainly make it easier to acquire the travel permits and documents needed for future endeavors. Besides, freelance laborers like him rarely found stable work—especially work that could elevate their status to that of official residents. Since he had the old shopkeeper's letter of recommendation, there was no harm in giving it a try.
With these thoughts in mind, he began strolling through the academy grounds to pass the time.
As he wandered idly, he happened upon a group of young scholars quarreling over something.
Listening more closely, he realized they were arguing about how to solve a math problem.
Li Guanyi's thoughts stirred. If he wanted to stay here, it would be best to show a bit of his ability.
He walked over, observed them for a moment, and then suddenly spoke:
"You've solved it incorrectly."
The students, all frowning in frustration over this problem that had stumped them for an entire month, were startled by his sudden interjection. They turned to find a dressed, impoverished young man. Having wrestled with this maddening arithmetic for so long, their minds were already twisted into knots like wrung laundry, and they couldn't help but respond with irritation:
"You say we've done it wrong? Then why don't you show us how it's done?"
One of the older students, slightly more composed, asked, "Since you say we're wrong, may we ask—what exactly is the mistake?"
"This was a secret arithmetic problem our teacher gave us a month ago. We've racked our brains trying to solve it but to no avail. The question is: 'Arrange the numbers one to nine into three rows, so that the sum of every row, column, and diagonal is fifteen. How should it be done?'"
"Do you have a solution, then?"
Li Guanyi glanced at the paper on the table. It was a magic square.
Unlike his previous life, mathematics in this era was one of the Six Arts of a gentleman, making it far harder to study. What was simple arithmetic back then was now an exhausting ordeal. Nine numbers, each with nine possible placements—an endless number of combinations enough to drive anyone mad.
Picking up a brush, with the elegantly dressed young scholars crowding around him, Li Guanyi began writing, murmuring as he did:
"The magic square follows the pattern of the divine turtle: two and four on the shoulders, six and eight as feet, three to the left, seven to the right, nine above, one below, and five in the center."
In just moments, the problem that had trapped these students for a month was solved before their eyes.
Around him, the students' expressions shifted wildly—astonishment, disbelief, silence.
Upstairs, the young lady from earlier had been quietly watching her younger brother when this scene caught her eye. Seeing those haughty students stunned into silence, she appeared thoughtful. She leaned toward her maid and gave an instruction. The maid, smiling in acknowledgment, quickly made her way downstairs.
At that moment, the attendant who had gone to report earlier also returned. Li Guanyi set down the brush and followed the man into a teahouse within the academy. Behind a folding screen sat a middle-aged scholar, about forty, holding the letter in his hand. He gestured for Li Guanyi to sit and personally poured him a cup of tea, saying:
"I've read the letter. Since it's Old Zhao's recommendation, I should certainly keep you here."
"However, we already have a full staff. The position Zhao recommended is unfortunately already filled. I only have some minor labor tasks left. If you're willing, you can try it for two months. In the first two months, the pay will be lower. I hope you don't mind."
A probationary period? Li Guanyi asked, "How much?"
The scholar stroked his beard and held up five fingers.
Li Guanyi guessed, "One and a half strings?"
That would roughly match the original offer.
But the scholar smiled faintly and said, "No, five mò."
In theory, one mò equaled one hundred coins. But in actual trade, people often used short mò—seventy-five coins each—because people loved feeling like they were getting a deal. Even the imperial court recognized this, except in legal matters like theft, where the law specified full mò for punishments. What this scholar spoke of was short mò.
Terms like full mò or full gold meant the proper, official amount.
Five short mò amounted to just three hundred seventy-five coins a month—not even twenty coins a day, which wasn't enough to cover bare subsistence. Li Guanyi immediately realized what was going on: this was a test to see if he'd give up on his own. The scholar didn't want to offend the old shopkeeper who recommended him, nor did he want to hire him. This way, he could claim that he had done his best to extend an offer and that it was Li Guanyi himself who declined. No one could blame him.
What a refined scholar! Truly well-read.
Li Guanyi rose to his feet. "No need."
A man with two hands, skilled in medicine, and capable in martial arts—why should he submit to humiliation?
The scholar's face showed a regretful expression, but deep in his eyes, a trace of satisfaction flickered. He rose to escort Li Guanyi out, even courteously holding the door open for him. His demeanor was full of gentle regret.
But then—an unexpected burst of crisp laughter echoed nearby.
"Master Liu, you truly don't know the price of rice and oil."
The voice belonged to that young maid, about fifteen or sixteen, with slightly chubby cheeks, bright black eyes, and a lively, teasing smile. Master Liu's expression didn't change at the sarcasm, responding smoothly:
"Scholars are destined for poverty, and gentlemen stay far from kitchens. Miss Qing'er speaks true."
"I don't know the price of rice and oil."
"By the way—Miss Xue came today to play the qin, didn't she? I wonder if I might have the honor of listening...?"
Qing'er rolled her eyes, ignoring the scholar's sudden change of demeanor.
Instead, she glanced at the dressed young man before her. Seeing his handsome features, she smiled slightly with a playful glint. "My lady saw what you just did. She guesses you're skilled in arithmetic. If you don't want to do menial labor here, we have a better position for you. Interested?"
Li Guanyi considered for a moment and then nodded. Qing'er grinned, took his arm, and led him away, not sparing the scholar another glance as they headed toward a separate courtyard. Behind a folding screen, faint melodies from a guqin drifted, and a figure could be seen in silhouette. Li Guanyi sat, and Qing'er explained the reason for bringing him.
It was to find a scholarly companion for the young lady's younger brother.
But first—they had to test him.
Qing'er disappeared behind the screen and soon returned with a sheet of paper filled with simple arithmetic problems.
Li Guanyi glanced at it—basic questions. He quickly wrote down the answers.
When it came to martial arts or elegant pursuits like music and painting, he was hopeless—beaten bloody by his aunt for ten years because of it.
But math was different.
Children in his previous life studied math from kindergarten and endured nine years of compulsory education, and three more years of high school. Fifteen years of systematic education made them arithmetic monsters in this world of classical texts.
Qing'er swiftly brought the answers back to the other side of the screen. The young lady raised her eyebrows. "That quickly?"
Qing'er nodded. "He's fast, all right."
The young lady checked the answers—all correct.
"Judging by the looks on those arrogant students' faces earlier, it seems this young man is truly something."
Qing'er grinned, "So, should we hire him?"
"Not yet. I want to see how deep his abilities go."
Knowing her mistress' fondness for mathematics, Qing'er watched as she penned a more difficult problem—land measurement—an area calculation problem in geometry. Li Guanyi glanced at it and began writing at a steady pace.
He finished quickly, and Qing'er carried it back.
The young lady's brows rose slightly in surprise. She wrote down another—grain conversion, calculations involving ratios of rice and millet.
Li Guanyi answered swiftly.
Then came proportion division, followed by inverse geometry—finding the side of a square given its area.
Then—solid geometry, and volume calculations.
Qing'er's green dress fluttered back and forth between the folding screen like a blossoming lotus flower, set against an ink painting of Seven Sages Seeking Wisdom. On one side stood the elegant young lady, on the other sat the modestly dressed, sharp-eyed youth.
After several trips, Qing'er was slightly out of breath.
Six problems now—and the young lady's writing hand had slowed. The initial smile of finding talent had given way to solemnity, even a faint look of seeing a monster. Yet his answer speed remained steady, terrifyingly consistent.
At last, gritting her teeth, she wrote down a problem that she had long struggled with but never solved.
Li Guanyi took one glance.
Linear algebra, is it?
The arithmetic here is absurd. Who needs this kind of math for a study companion?
But then again—he'd seen dragons before. Nothing surprised him anymore.
He lifted his brush and wrote.
Behind the screen, the young lady silently counted his writing strokes.
One… two…
The brush moved with terrifying stability.
Even this most advanced level of mathematics, equivalent to the highest tier of The Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art, took him only as long as it had to solve the simplest problem.
He finished writing.
Even Qing'er felt the growing tension and held her breath.
The young lady stared at the completed paper, then closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.
Li Guanyi asked calmly, "Well, what do you think?"
With a few soft murmurs, someone came forward and pulled aside the folding screens.
What came into view first was a hand—pale as jade—raising a single finger. The girl hesitated briefly, then said softly:
"If you don't mind, how about… this amount?"
Li Guanyi thought for a moment. "A string of coins? That'll do."
The folding screen fully opened.
There she stood—a girl in a teal gown, with graceful features, skin like polished jade, and a delicate floral ornament at the center of her brow. She smiled gently. "Yes, one string."
"One string… per day."
Li Guanyi's expression froze slightly.
He stared at the girl before him, at her upraised finger.
One string a day?
For a brief moment…
He thought she looked incredibly beautiful.
(End of chapter)