A family of loyal martyrs, starting with nine wives to continue the family line.

Xiao Guanyin squatted under the window at the back of the school, with several people.

Fifteen. Three more than the first batch, and they're all a bit younger.

The dark-skinned, thin boy in the front row looked to be no more than fourteen or fifteen years old. His pen-holding posture was wrong; he gripped the brush with his whole fist as if it were a short knife.

The instructor didn't correct him.

The instructor's surname was Zhou. He was a middle-aged man in his early forties who used to teach at the Imperial Academy. Later, the Imperial Academy was dissolved, and Fang Fuyao transferred him here.

He stood on the podium, read a passage from the textbook, and had the students below read a passage after him.

The students from Central China read fluently, while the students from Southern China stumbled and mispronounced a few syllables, mispronouncing "治" as "池" and "律" as "绿".

After they finished reading, Instructor Zhou neither praised nor scolded them, but turned to the next page and continued teaching.

Xiao Guanyin stood outside the window for a long time, feeling a mix of emotions she couldn't quite describe.

She had expected to see something amiss. Children from Xianyuan studying in the Central Plains were often bullied.

She herself was from Xianyuan, and she remembered clearly the way the maids and servants in the mansion looked at her when she married into the Wei family.

She squatted in the school for three days but saw nothing.

The students from Zhongyuan ignored the students from Xianyuan, and the students from Xianyuan ignored the students from Zhongyuan.

The two groups ate separately and played separately after class, but no one fought or swore at each other. They were just distant.

Being distant is better than being bullied, but it's not exactly good either.

She thought about it and went to see Fang Fuyao in the afternoon.

Fang Fuyao's courtyard was in the northeast corner of the palace, and it was very quiet.

When Xiao Guanyin arrived, the white-robed national teacher was sitting on the veranda, flipping through a book so thick it could kill someone, with a cup of tea that had long since gone cold beside him.

"The Imperial Advisor."

Fang Fuyao looked up at her, then closed the book.

"I have a question for those students from Xianyuan."

Xiao Guanyin sat down opposite her, thought for a moment about her words, and then spoke frankly: "Their foundation is weak, and they can't keep up with what the students from the Central Plains are learning. Should we arrange extra tutoring for them? I can find someone to teach them."

Fang Fuyao did not answer immediately.

She looked at Xiao Guanyin, her eyes as calm as water in winter.

He spoke after a few breaths.

"Need not."

Xiao Guanyin was taken aback.

"If they learn slowly, they will study for an extra year; if they learn quickly, they will take the exams together with students from the Central Plains."

Fang Fuyao's tone was flat, leaving no room for negotiation: "The school doesn't have two sets of rules."

Xiao Guanyin opened her mouth, as if to say something.

For example, the fourteen-year-old boy couldn't even hold a pen properly; for example, some students couldn't speak Mandarin fluently; for example, the difference in foundation between Xianyuan and Zhongyuan was more than just a little bit. If you put them all together, the ones who wouldn't be cooked through would still be the children from Xianyuan.

But looking at Fang Fuyao's expressionless face, she swallowed her words.

She wasn't without reason. With two sets of rules in place, the Central Plains Student Council asked, "Why?"

Students from Xianyuan also felt like they were being treated as outsiders.

Teaching them separately actually made that invisible wall even stronger.

Xiao Guanyin nodded, got up and left.

That evening, she went to the Imperial Study to find Wei Zhao.

Wei Zhao was reviewing memorials, and the tea in front of him had gone cold without being replaced, and the cinnabar on the tip of his brush had dried up halfway.

She relayed Fang Fuyao's words verbatim.

After listening, Wei Zhao paused writing.

"Fang Fuyao is right."

He put the pen on the inkstone, looked up at Xiao Guanyin, and said in a low but firm tone: "When it is time to treat everyone equally, then treat everyone equally."

Xiao Guanyin responded.

She knew exactly what Wei Zhao was thinking.

Xianyuan was a territory of Xinwu, not a vassal state.

The children of Xianyuan were sent here to study, learning the language and laws of Xinwu, and they would return to work for Xinwu in the future.

If you treat others differently from the start, you'll always be an "outsider."

Wei Zhao understood this situation better than anyone else.

In mid-December, a letter arrived from Xianyuan.

The letter was written in the handwriting of King Seonwon Shin-shin, and the characters were crooked and messy, clearly indicating that he had only recently started learning.

The content was simple—invite a group of instructors from the New Martial Arts School to go to Xianyuan to open a school and teach the people of Xianyuan to recognize the Central Plains script and learn the Central Plains laws.

When Xiao Guanyin received the letter, she was initially a little surprised.

She hadn't expected the new king to bring this up. The elders of the Xianyuan tribe had always been wary of the Central Plains, feeling that learning from them would make them forget their roots.

When the previous Khan was alive, anyone who dared to suggest that their children learn Chinese would be whipped out of their tent.

The new king dared to make this request either because he genuinely wanted to change things, or because he was forced to change them.

Most people have both.

She didn't dare make the decision herself, so she sent the letter to the Imperial Study that same day.

Wei Zhao read the letter and remained silent for a while.

He tapped his fingers twice on the edge of the letter, a habit he had when he was thinking.

"Okay," he said.

Xiao Guanyin breathed a sigh of relief. But Wei Zhao didn't finish speaking.

"When the instructors go there, they must follow the rules of the Korean Peninsula and not force the Central Plains system onto them."

He put the letter down and looked at Xiao Guanyin.

"The Xianyuan people have their own way of life. They can teach writing and explain the laws, but how to live, how to herd livestock, and how to perform sacrifices are not their responsibility. When you go there, you are not treated as masters, but as guests."

Xiao Guanyin listened very carefully, not missing a single word.

"I understand. Let's give it a try."

She was already considering who to choose.

They should have a good temper, be able to endure hardship, and preferably be able to ride horses.

The Xianyuan region was not like the Central Plains; schools there might just be felt tents, and teachers had to migrate with the herders.

Those pedantic scholars who were used to staying in the Imperial Academy wouldn't last more than three days there.

She needs to discuss this matter with Fang Fuyao again.

Late December.

Xiao Guanyin had been squatting in the nursery in the backyard of the school for almost half an hour.

In the soil in front of her, in three neat rows of small pits, seven or eight tender green shoots were just beginning to emerge.

The leaves are very small, thinner than a fingernail, but their color is a bright green, which stands out from the surrounding withered and yellow weeds.

Southeast Asian tree seedlings.

These seeds were brought back from Quanzhou by Shang Wanqing last month. She said that among Ke Zhenchuan's surrendered soldiers was an old sailor who had seen this tree in Southeast Asia and brought back some seeds.

Xiao Guanyin took a bunch and planted them in the backyard of the school, not having high hopes for them.

The capital was much colder than Southeast Asia, and she herself felt that most of the crops would not survive.

Surprisingly, it actually sprouted.

She squatted by the nursery, reaching out to brush away the loose soil next to the sprouts, careful not to crush them. Her movements were as gentle as if she were wiping a baby's face.

She doesn't know much about planting trees.

A woman who grows up on the grasslands knows how to tame horses, set up tents, and distinguish the stars in the sky from the distant dust, but no one has ever taught her how to care for a tree.

Over the past few months, she has relied entirely on her own trial and error to determine how much water to give the plants and how long to let them bask in the sun, all based on intuition.

I'm mostly lucky to be alive now.

But what should we do next?

It's getting colder and colder, will this thing be able to withstand it?

She thought for a moment, stood up, patted the dirt off her knees, and went to find Shang Wanqing.

Shang Wanqing's courtyard has changed a lot compared to before.

The stack of blueprints on the table was still there, but next to it was a heater and medicine pot provided by Xie Daoning.

She was nearly seven months pregnant, leaning against the couch, and was even holding a charcoal pencil in her hand, drawing something on a drawing sheet.

Huo Qingluan was also there. She sat at the table, a cross-sectional diagram of a ship spread out in front of her, her brows furrowed so deeply they could have squeezed water out of them.

When Xiao Guanyin entered, both of them looked up at her.

"The saplings in Southeast Asia have sprouted."

Xiao Guanyin didn't beat around the bush and directly stated her purpose: "I don't know what habits that thing has, or how to raise it in winter, so I came to ask you."

Shang Wanqing put down her charcoal pencil and thought for a moment.

"Which kind? What shape are the leaves?"

"Slender, like a willow leaf, but thicker."

Shang Wanqing nodded, and the focused look that always appeared on her face when discussing technical issues returned.

"That should be a pine bark tree from Southeast Asia. It likes heat and is afraid of frost. Winters in Beijing are too cold for it. You have to surround the nursery with straw mats, uncover them during the day to let it get some sun, and cover it up at night to block the wind. Don't water it too often. Water it only when the soil feels dry to the touch, and water it thoroughly each time."

As she spoke, the topic veered off to something else.

"Once this tree grows up, the rope made from its bark will be three times stronger than hemp rope. It won't rot even after being soaked in seawater, making it excellent for making ship ropes."

Xiao Guanyin memorized each of the maintenance methods.

Straw mats, sunbathing, watering frequency—it's not complicated, but it requires attention.