Huayu: Reborn in 97, transferring to the Central Academy of Drama's star-studded class

Jiang Lai spent the whole afternoon helping to repair the roof.

First, the wooden rafters were placed on top, then a layer of straw and weeds was laid on top, and finally water was poured into the loess mixed with straw fibers to make a thin mud, which was then evenly smoothed on the roof.

Jiang was exhausted after finishing his work and sat down on the ground to rest. Old Zhao gathered up the remaining haystacks and burned them.

Jiang Lai figured the other person wouldn't just be making a fire for fun, so he asked, "What are you going to do with this?"

Old Zhao smiled but didn't answer. He put the burnt wood ash into a bucket, carried it up the ladder again, and sprinkled the ash onto the freshly applied mud.

"This way it will last longer and won't collapse easily."

Jiang Lai nodded, acknowledging that he had indeed learned something new.

Old Zhao brought over a basin of water and let Jiang Lai wash his hands first. Then he washed his hands, which were covered in mud, with the dirty water. Jiang Lai asked why he didn't bring another basin of water. Old Zhao said it was just for washing hands, and he wanted to save some water so that the children could have more water to drink in case of a dry season.

Jiang Lai didn't say anything, and Old Zhao led him into the dilapidated house.

There were two rooms in the house, one large and one small. The large one was the classroom. There was no podium, and a few wooden tables and stools were placed crookedly. The blackboard was a blackened wooden board with several cracks in the wood, and the chalk was small pieces of lime.

The smaller room was where Old Zhao rested; it had an earthen stove, an earthen bed, and a cabinet with many books on it.

This is the only place in the nearby villages where one can go to school.

Old Zhao said that their mountain valley is too remote. Children who can afford it go to school in town, but most of them can't. These children herd cattle and sheep and do farm work. When they grow up and get married, the men go out to work, while the women stay at home to farm and raise children. This has been the case for many years.

The few children in the school were all gathered together by him going door to door.

Old Zhao also said that this place is not actually a teaching point; he volunteered to be a teacher. The villagers respect him and give him rice, flour, and oil. He also grows some vegetables in his backyard, and he lives a pretty good life.

Jiang Lai listened silently as Old Zhao spoke slowly, and before they knew it, it was evening.

Seeing that it was getting late, Old Zhao scratched his head sheepishly. Yate had asked him to talk to Jiang about how to be a teacher, but he didn't know what to say, so he could only talk about his own things. He hadn't had anyone to talk to in a long time, and he ended up saying too much without realizing it.

Finally, Old Zhao took out a few Chinese textbooks from the cabinet and told Jiang to take them back and look at them first, and then choose one lesson each day to teach the children.

Jiang Lai was surprised that this seemed a bit casual, but he didn't ask any further questions and took the book.

Old Zhao explained that the children would come to class tomorrow, and they agreed to arrive before eight o'clock the next day. Jiang Lai then took the books and went home.

night.

Jiang Lai carefully flipped through the textbook. The village still didn't have electricity, and the only means of lighting was kerosene lamps. Even though he lit an extra candle, his eyes still ached from reading.

"Still reading?" Zhang Ziyi carried the food into the house.

"Ah." Jiang Lai rubbed his eyes hard. "I can't not watch it. I can't fool the children."

After putting the books away and moving the kerosene lamp and candle to the side, Zhang Ziyi placed the two bowls on the small table.

"Why is it scallion pancakes and millet porridge again?" Jiang Lai grumbled softly.

"Eat it or not, it's up to you!" Zhang Ziyi said with a sullen face, making a move to put the food away.

Jiang Lai quickly stepped in to protect her, immediately flattering her, "I absolutely love it! I can't live a day without it!"

He picked up the bowl of millet porridge and slurped down a big mouthful, grinning foolishly at the other person.

"Hmph! What a jerk." Zhang Ziyi rolled her eyes. "I also made some scallion and egg stir-fry. Wait a minute."

After saying that, he walked out the door and came back a short while later carrying two small bowls.

A bowl of golden scrambled eggs, mixed with vibrant green scallions, looks incredibly appetizing. Add a bowl of pickled radish, and it's refreshing and appetizing.

Jiang Laifeng ate with gusto, while Zhang Ziyi opened his textbook and asked, "Have you decided what to teach tomorrow?"

After swallowing a bite of scallion pancake, Jiang Lai said with a headache, "I've been watching this because I don't know what to teach."

Zhang Ziyi nodded and continued looking at the textbook. When he turned to an article, he pointed to it and said, "How about this one, 'Ode to the Poplar'? I studied it when I was a child and it left a deep impression on me. And the trees in these mountains seem to be poplars, so it would be perfect to combine the textbook with real life."

"This one is okay, but not quite..." Jiang Lai smiled and said, "The trees in these mountains are birch trees, not poplar trees. These two kinds of trees look very similar, so it's normal that someone like you can't tell them apart."

Zhang Ziyi turned her head with a smile and asked in a particularly gentle tone, "Are you full, darling?"

Jiang Lai felt a chill creeping up his spine and hesitated before saying, "That's about right, I can still eat a little more."

"Then don't eat!" Zhang Ziyi quickly cleared away the bowls and chopsticks, turned around, and ran away.

Jiang Lai stood frozen on the kang (a heated brick bed), his hand still in the gesture of holding chopsticks.

Where did I say something wrong again? He scratched his head helplessly.

"Ode to the Poplar"? Yes, that's perfect, I'll take it.

The next day, Jiang Lai got up and washed up as soon as it was light. He raised his hand to greet Zhang Ziyi, who was out feeding the pigs, but the other party ignored him with a dark face. He had just prepared breakfast for him.

Jiang Lai smiled, finished his meal, picked up his books, and went out.

"Report your numbers!"

"one!"

"two!"

"three!"

"Four!"

"five!"

"Alright! Everyone's here. Now, let's raise the national flag and sing the national anthem!"

Jiang arrived at Old Zhao's dilapidated school, found no one inside, and heard a noise coming from the backyard. He followed the sound and saw this scene.

Old Zhao led five children of varying ages to stand under a thick bamboo pole in the backyard. With a solemn expression, Old Zhao held the national flag, threaded a rope through it, and slowly raised it up the bamboo pole.

His expression was no longer that of someone who was flustered and slightly embarrassed yesterday; instead, he looked solemn and dignified.

"Arise! Ye who refuse to be slaves!"

"Let our flesh and blood forge our new Great Wall!"

The children's singing began, their singing was not standard, and even a little off-key, but their voices were very loud.

Jiang Lai followed suit, watching the red flag fluttering in the wind.

He discovered that the flag was just a piece of red cloth, with the five stars embroidered on. The color was slightly whitish, but it was clean and tidy.

He suddenly realized that the school wasn't dilapidated at all, because he had never seen such a bright red flag before.

After the flag-raising ceremony, Old Zhao saw Jiang Lai and, smiling, led the children over.

Jiang asked why he hadn't seen the national flag yesterday.

Old Zhao said he would put it away at noon to avoid direct sunlight, and he would put it under his pillow at night so he could sleep soundly.

He introduced Jiang to the children, and the little ones called him "Teacher Jiang" affectionately. After the introduction, Old Zhao said he was going to town to buy some glass. The classroom windows needed to be installed; they couldn't keep covering them with newspapers, or it would get cold in winter.

Jiang Lai led the children into the classroom, and they quickly became friends.

"San Ya, why are you called San Ya and not Er Ya?"

"Because I'm the third child in my family," a little girl with pigtails replied.

Jiang Lai nodded. "Okay, that makes sense."

Of the five children, this is the only girl; the rest are boys of varying ages, the oldest being ten and the youngest being this Sanya, who is only seven.

"Teacher, teacher, my name is Didan'er. My mom said I loved eating this since I was little, so she gave me this name."

A little boy with snot hanging from his nose raised his hand and shouted, "Earth egg is potato!"

The other three are named Fatty, Dog Egg, and the biggest one is called Big Hair.

These are easy to understand. There's an old saying that a humble name makes a child easier to raise, and this is especially common in the village. They don't have formal names yet, but perhaps they'll be called by these names in the future.

"Okay, then we're officially acquainted. How did your teacher, Ms. Zhao, teach you before?" Jiang Lai asked, squatting down in front of the children.

"Teacher Zhao reads a sentence, and we repeat it after him. Then he writes it down on the blackboard to teach us to recognize the characters," replied Da Mao, the oldest student.

"Teacher, teacher! I've learned so many characters already!"

"I recognize even more!"

"Sanya has learned a lot too! Sanya has learned dozens of characters!"

"I've identified a hundred!"

"I have hundreds!"

The little ones started chattering away, even comparing themselves to each other.

Jiang Lai watched with amusement and quickly gestured for people to sit down. "Alright, stop making noise and go back to your seats."

The little ones quickly ran behind the wooden table and sat down, their little faces tense and sitting upright.

Jiang Lai secretly confirmed to himself that Teacher Zhao was indeed teaching very well.

"Do you students know what a poplar tree is?"

After Jiang Lai finished asking, five little hands were raised high, and he casually pointed to one.

"Go, you say it, Dog Egg."

A chubby-faced little boy stood up and shouted excitedly, "I don't know!"

"..." Jiang Lai waved his hand, "Okay, sit down."

He figured the remaining kids probably didn't know either, so he simply opened his textbook.

"The poplar tree is a very resilient tree, mostly growing in the northwest of our country. Today we're going to study an article by Mr. Mao Dun called 'Ode to the Poplar.' Come on, repeat after me: The poplar tree is truly extraordinary; I praise the poplar tree!"

"The poplar tree is truly extraordinary; I praise the poplar tree!"

......

"That's a tree that strives to reach the top, with a straight trunk and straight branches. (Remember this.)"

"It's a tree that strives to reach the top, with a straight trunk and straight branches."

......

"Like these poplar trees, they stand proudly as sentinels guarding their homeland!"

"Like these poplar trees, they stand proudly as sentinels guarding their homeland!"

......

"I want to praise the poplar tree aloud! Recite it."

"I want to loudly praise the poplar tree!"

After reading the text aloud, Jiang Lai asked with a smile, "What are your thoughts after reading this article?"

Five little hands were raised high in unison.

"You may speak freely, there's no need to raise your hands."

"Teacher, teacher, I didn't understand, but I think poplar trees are good trees."

"Teacher, I also think poplar trees are good trees, but why are they good trees?"

Listening to the children's questions, Jiang Lai explained, "Mr. Mao Dun used the poplar tree as a metaphor for people. He used this seemingly ordinary but tenacious tree to praise those who guarded their hometown. In today's terms, your teacher Zhao can also be praised using the poplar tree."

The little ones listened, seemingly understanding but not quite.

As Jiang Lai explained the text, he copied the content onto the blackboard to teach the children to recognize characters.

Soon it was noon, and Old Zhao had bought the glass.

The little ones chattered and gathered around, telling Old Zhao, "Teacher Jiang said you are a poplar tree."

Old Zhao was completely bewildered. When he learned that Jiang Lai was teaching them "Ode to the Poplar Tree," he waved his hand shyly.

"I can't accept such praise."