Chapter 15

Li Guanyi stopped his steps and stepped aside for the carriage.

When the carriage came to a halt, a maid with twin buns and a duck-green jacket leapt down first, then turned and extended her hand to help a woman descend; the woman was tall in stature, dressed in a green skirt, white silk stockings with lotus-colored shoes, her hair like a cloud—only her back could be seen as she was assisted inside.

The carriage driver cracked his whip, and the carriage settled steadily against the wall on either side.

Li Guanyi paid no mind to this minor incident.

He merely handed the letter to someone at the private school, was guided inside, and found the school occupied a vast area; the gatekeeper told Li Guanyi to wander around and wait while he delivered the letter to the Liu family's tutor. Li Guanyi nodded and waited there, his gaze sweeping over the place.

The Liu family's private school.

Though he had long known it was large, the feeling from outside was entirely different from within—everywhere stood bamboo groves and orchids, buildings hidden among them; people coming and going were youths aged seven or eight to early twenties, all dressed in silk, adorned with jade pendants, swords, and incense pouches, their attire splendid, each holding a book as they walked.

Li Guanyi wore a gray-brown garment, washed until faded, standing there with a calm gaze.

Yet he was thinking.

Indeed, the Liu family's private school was already vast; if he could secure a place here, it would greatly aid his future passage through official documents. Moreover, independent households rarely found work—how much less so a position that could elevate an independent household to a registered one? With the old shopkeeper's letter, why not give it a try?

As he pondered, he slowly walked through the school to take a look.

Just as he grew bored, he noticed a group of boys arguing over something.

Upon closer listening, he realized they were disputing the solution to a mathematical problem.

Li Guanyi pondered: if he wished to stay here, he should reveal at least some of his ability.

He stepped forward, observed for a moment, then suddenly spoke:

"You've solved it wrong."

The students, who had been struggling for a full month with this difficult problem, were startled by his remark. They turned and saw a poor, plainly dressed boy. Having been stumped for a month, their minds felt as twisted as washed, wrung-out clothes; now they replied irritably: "You say we're wrong? Then show us how!"

"If you know, solve it yourself."

A slightly older one asked: "Young sir, you say we're wrong—how exactly?"

"This was a secret problem given to us by our teacher a month ago. We've racked our brains but found no solution. The problem is: 【Arrange the numbers one through nine into three rows so that every row, column, and diagonal sums to fifteen—how?】"

"Do you have a solution?"

Li Guanyi looked at the nine-square grid on the table.

Unlike his past life, in this era, mathematics was one of the Six Arts of the gentleman, and cultivation of it was difficult.

The nine-square grid had been no challenge in his past life, but in this world, without secret transmission, figuring it out alone was agonizingly time-consuming. Nine numbers, each with nine possible placements—combinatorial complexity enough to make one's scalp tingle.

He picked up a brush. The elaborately dressed boys gathered around him. As he wrote, he murmured softly: "The principle of the nine-square grid follows the spirit turtle: two and four as shoulders, six and eight as feet, three on the left, seven on the right, nine on top, one beneath, five at the center."

In an instant, the puzzle that had baffled these students for a month was solved.

The surrounding students' expressions shifted in stunned silence.

On the upper floor, the young lady who had been gazing at her younger brother now saw this scene. Seeing the stunned faces of the haughty students, she pondered, then told her maid beside her to go down. The maid smiled and turned to descend.

Just then, the gatekeeper who had earlier delivered the letter emerged. Li Guanyi put down his brush and followed the gatekeeper to a tea room, separated by a screen. A man around forty sat there, holding the letter, motioning for Li Guanyi to sit, then poured him tea himself and said:

"I already know your purpose."

"Since Old Zhao recommended you, I ought to keep you."

"But my school is full—Old Zhao's recommended position happened to be taken. Only minor labor positions remain. Young sir, try working here for two months first: sweep and clean daily. Your pay for the first two months will be low—don't complain."

Probation? Li Guanyi asked: "How much?"

The Confucian stroked his beard and held up five fingers. Li Guanyi said: "One and a half guan?"

It was nearly the same as before.

The Confucian smiled: "No, five mo."

Originally, one mo was one hundred cash, but in actual trade, people—seeking advantage—used "short mo" instead of "full mo." The court tolerated this, only legally punishing those who stole five thousand full mo. The Confucian clearly meant short mo.

Terms like "full mo," "full gold" carry this meaning.

One mo equals seventy-five cash; one month totals three hundred seventy-five cash—less than twenty cash per day, the bare minimum for survival. Li Guanyi sensed the intent: they wanted him to give up, unwilling to offend the old shopkeeper's face, yet unwilling to accept him. The Confucian smiled warmly as he raised his tea:

"Still, I advise you to stay."

"While working here, you may eavesdrop on the students' scholarly debates, learn to read and write—it's beneficial, unlike elsewhere."

Li Guanyi sipped his tea.

Hmm. First the psychological manipulation, then the empty promises.

Five mo a month won't cover expenses—even the state's disaster relief stipend exceeds this. Most would be driven away. Thus, the Confucian avoids offending the shopkeeper's face while claiming he personally urged Li Guanyi to stay; the blame falls entirely on Li Guanyi for refusing.

Truly a fine Confucian—thoroughly read his books.

Li Guanyi rose and said: "No need."

A true man has hands and feet, medical skills, and martial prowess—he need not endure humiliation.

The Confucian's face showed regret, yet a faint smile lingered in his eyes. He rose to escort him, leading the way and even opening the door for Li Guanyi himself—his demeanor warm and regretful—when a clear laugh rang out: "Master Liu, you know nothing of rice, salt, oil, or firewood."

"Five mo a month—even short mo? Our household laborers earn more in a few days."

Outside stood the maid—fifteen or sixteen, slightly chubby, eyes bright black, her smile cute yet teasing. Master Liu accepted the remark without offense, merely smiling warmly: "Scholars are poor by nature; gentlemen keep far from kitchens. Miss Qing speaks truly."

"I truly know nothing of rice, salt, oil, or firewood."

"I didn't know Miss Xue came today—is she to play the qin? Ha, might I have the honor to listen…?" The maid Qing rolled her eyes, ignoring the suddenly changed scholar.

Instead, she looked at the poor boy—noticed his handsome features, and smiled faintly: "My lady saw what you just did. She guesses your math skills are good. If you don't want to work here, my lady has a better position for you—how?"

Li Guanyi paused briefly, then agreed. Qing smiled, took his arm, and led him forward, ignoring Master Liu entirely. They entered a pavilion, where behind a screen, the sound of a qin drifted faintly, a shadow visible. Li Guanyi sat. Qing explained:

They wished to find a study companion for her younger brother.

First, test his ability.

Qing returned behind the screen and brought back a sheet of white paper covered with simple math problems.

Li Guanyi glanced at them—all easy. He answered swiftly.

Martial arts, culture—he couldn't compare.

Take Li Guanyi himself: for ten years, his aunt had beaten him for failing at qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting.

But the mathematics was different.

Children in his previous life had to study math — three years of kindergarten learning numbers, nine years of compulsory education, three years of high school — at least fifteen years of systematic mathematical education had beaten them into shape; set down among the arithmetic scholars of this era, they would be monsters unleashed from a cage.

Qing'er swiftly took it back. That young lady let out a "yi" and said, "Finished so quickly?" Qing'er said, "Yes, he did it awfully fast."

The young girl glanced at it and said, "They're all correct."

"Just now, seeing the looks on those insufferably arrogant arithmetic scholars' faces, I knew he was formidable — and indeed he is."

Qing'er said with a smile, "So shall we hire him?"

"Mm, no rush. I want to see just how capable he is."

Qing'er knew her own young lady had always loved mathematics, so she watched her write out a more difficult problem — a "Field Measurement" problem, asking for the area of a square field. Li Guanyi glanced at it: a plane geometry area problem. He set down his brush with calm composure.

He finished swiftly, and Qing'er took the paper back.

The young girl glanced at it, a trace of surprise on her face, and then wrote down a "Grain Exchange" problem.

Li Guanyi glanced at it — a problem of proportional conversion for grains and cereals.

He answered it cleanly.

A "Decreasing Distribution" problem — merely a proportional distribution question.

A "Minor Width" problem — given the area, find the length of one side.

A "Construction Work" problem — calculating solid volume.

Qing'er's blue skirt fluttered back and forth on either side of the screen, like a lotus flower in full bloom. On the screen was an ink painting of the Seven Sages Questioning the Worthy; on one side sat the young lady in trailing finery, on the other the plainly dressed youth, seated at his desk, his brow clear and bright.

Qing'er was slightly out of breath.

The sixth problem now. The young lady's brush was slowing more and more; the smile of having discovered a talent that had first crossed her face had gradually grown solemn, tinged with a kind of astonishment, as though she had beheld a monster. Yet on the other side, the speed of answering remained as ever — steady, terrifyingly so.

In the end, she gritted her teeth and wrote down a problem she herself had once racked her brains over, never having found a solution.

Li Guanyi glanced at it.

It was probably a system of linear equations from his previous life.

Is the mathematics of this world really this outrageous? Does a child's study companion need this level? Still, he'd already seen a dragon, so perhaps it was normal.

Li Guanyi thought for a moment, then lifted his brush and answered.

The other side of the screen went quiet; the young girl lowered her eyes and counted silently in her heart.

One, two…

The sound of the brush was steady, terrifyingly so.

In the end, even this — the hardest, ninth-level problem in the "Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art" — still took no more time than the very first.

He set down his brush.

Qing'er seemed to sense the solemnity of the moment and slowed her breathing.

The young lady finished reading, closed her eyes, and sighed.

Li Guanyi said, "May I ask — how did I do?"

The young lady spoke a few words to the side, and someone came to pull the screen open to the left and right. What met Li Guanyi's eyes was a hand — a palm Bai Ruyu, with one finger raised. She hesitated, then said, "If you don't think it's too little, how about this amount?"

Li Guanyi considered: "One guan? Acceptable."

The screen opened.

The young lady, dressed in a blue gown, her brow lovely, her complexion white as jade, a floral decoration dotted between her brows, smiled softly: "Mm, one guan."

"One day, one guan."

Li Guanyi's thoughts stilled slightly.

He looked at the young lady before him, who was holding up one finger.

One guan a day? In that instant—

He thought this young lady was very beautiful.

(End of chapter)