Isolated town in northern border region

Jiang Min has been back in the State of Chu for more than five months.

In the third month, her carriage stopped at a villa in the southern suburbs of the capital. It was the residence that Xiao Lie had arranged for her. It was half a city away from the Imperial Academy, a whole Zhuque Street away from the Prince's Mansion, and neither too far nor too close to the mansions of any noble family. It was a location that had been measured and marked out by someone.

The day she moved in, the begonias in the villa were in full bloom. The wind blew through the corridor, scattering petals onto the bluestone slabs, creating a thin red carpet. She stood at the door for a while, but didn't step on them. Instead, she took a step around and walked into the main hall through the side corridor.

The main hall was simply furnished with a table, a chair, and a bookshelf. On the wall hung an unsigned landscape painting, its brushstrokes delicate and slender, as if it had been casually drawn, or perhaps left as a deliberate mark. She sat down at the table, reaching out to touch its surface. Her fingertips brushed against a faint engraving, as if accidentally made by someone's fingernail, its edges worn smooth by years of wear.

She withdrew her hand and whispered, "He won't even let me choose the yard."

No one responded. The maid she had brought stood in the doorway, holding an unopened dressing case, unsure whether to put it down or take it away. Jiang Min glanced at her: "Put it on the table."

The maid put down the dressing case and left.

Jiang Min sat alone in the main hall. The autumn light outside the window was gradually dimming, blurring the outline of the engraved mark on the table. She sat quietly for a while, then stood up, walked to the window, and opened it. She saw the ridge beasts on the eaves of the Imperial Academy in the distance, bathed in the twilight, forming a golden silhouette, like an unopened bookmark nestled in the gap between the horizon and the eaves.

From then on, she would stand by the window and look in that direction every day.

But Xiao Lie never came.

He taught at the Imperial Academy, from morning till night, without fail. Jiang Min sent someone to inquire, and they learned that he entered the classroom at dawn and left at dusk, only taking a short break for a meal, spending the rest of his time grading assignments at the podium or his desk. At night, the lights in the corridors of the Imperial Academy would stay on until very late, and occasionally, his silhouette could be seen bent over his desk, like a figure frozen in place, rarely changing his posture.

Jiang Min didn't say anything when she heard these reports. She simply put down the scroll of books she hadn't finished copying, stood by the window for a while longer, and then turned and went to her study to continue reading the craftsmen's notes that she had had collected from various places.

Those notes were taken by the craftsmen during Xiao Lie's classes. The handwriting was crooked and full of mistakes, but the content made her more and more alarmed as she read them.

The first volume contains addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division, all basic arithmetic. However, each example problem is followed by a note: "The prince said: This number can be used to measure fields, calculate grain, and account for wages and silver," tightly linking a simple arithmetic problem with specific matters of people's livelihood.

The second book introduces fractions and decimals. Next to the example problem is written, "The prince said: Dividing a cake is a fraction. Half is one-half, and taking one-third is one-third. This principle applies to all things under heaven."

The third volume contains simple equations, with the following text next to the example problem: "The prince said: The unknown is like an unopened lock, and the two sides of the equation are the key and the keyhole. If they match, the lock can be opened."

Book 4 begins with plane geometry, Book 5 with solid geometry, Book 6 with force and motion, Book 7 with heat and combustion, and Book 8 with the refraction and reflection of light…

Jiang Min's fingers stopped when she turned to the ninth volume.

The cover of that book bore the words "Introduction to Chemistry," and the handwriting was completely different from the previous books. It was no longer the crooked, illegible copying of the craftsmen, but Xiao Lie's own handwriting. On the title page, he wrote: "This subject is easily confused; transmit it with caution. First, use metaphors to explain it; do not startle it with its name."

Jiang Min turned to the first page and saw that Xiao Lie had written in the simplest language what combustion, oxidation, acid and alkali, combination and decomposition were. He called rust "iron and wind combine to produce," firewood burning "the gas in the wood combines with fire to disperse," and vinegar and alkali bubbling together "two gases fighting to produce"—using language that craftsmen could understand, but Jiang Min could see through the true meaning behind those metaphors at a glance.

On the last page of the ninth volume, she saw a line of small charcoal writing on the edge, the strokes very light, as if someone had hesitated before putting them down: "The Prince said that if this learning is mastered, everything in the world can be transformed. Water, fire, earth, stone, grass, trees, insects, and fish—nothing is beyond its potential. But the Prince also said that if this learning is passed on to the wrong person, disaster will follow."

Jiang Min read the line of text three times, then closed the booklet, placed it on the table, and sat there without moving for a long time.

It was completely dark outside the window, and the lanterns in the courtyard had not yet been lit. The entire study was shrouded in a hazy, dark gloom. Only the oil lamp beside her was still burning, its small flame casting her shadow on the wall behind her in a long, thin shape.

She whispered, "He even taught me this."

Her tone was very soft, as if she were stating a fact that she had already confirmed but had not yet decided how to respond to.

Meanwhile, in the classroom of the Imperial Academy, Xiao Lie was facing the biggest hurdle he had ever encountered in his teaching career.

He wrote the word "burning" on the blackboard, then turned around and looked at the audience.

Sitting below the stage were more than forty craftsmen. After five months, these people were no longer the rough-handed bunch who couldn't even write their own names properly. They had learned addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division; they had learned simple equations; they had learned geometric theorems; and they had learned the basic concepts of force and motion. Their handwriting wasn't exactly beautiful, but at least every stroke landed where it should.

But what Xiao Lie is going to talk about today is different from what he's talked about before.

He began by saying, "Today we'll be talking about combustion."

He wrote the word "oxidation" on the blackboard and then began to explain why iron rusts, why firewood burns to ash, and why grease becomes rancid. He broke down the oxidation reaction in the simplest terms, starting with "there is something in the gas that changes when it comes into contact with matter," and continuing to "changes can be fast or slow, fast like fire, slow like rust."

After he finished speaking, the classroom was quiet for a while.

Then a middle-aged craftsman in the corner stood up, his face bearing an expression Xiao Lie had never seen before—not confusion, not curiosity, but an almost reverent fear. He asked, his voice trembling slightly, "Your Highness, what is this 'thing within the qi' you mentioned?"

Xiao Lie said, "Call for oxygen."

The craftsman then asked, "Where does the oxygen come from?"

Xiao Lie said, "It's in the air."

The craftsman then asked, "Then...who put the oxygen in?"

Xiao Lie was stunned for a moment, and before he could answer, another craftsman next to him knelt down with a "thud," his forehead hitting the table with a dull thud.

Then came the second, and the third.

In no time, more than forty craftsmen in the classroom were kneeling on the ground. Some lay prostrate on the ground, not daring to raise their heads. Some knocked over the writing brushes and ink on the table while kowtowing, spilling ink all over the table without bothering to wipe it up. Some murmured the words "a god descending to earth" in a low voice, as if chanting a sutra.

Xiao Lie stood on the podium watching this scene, his knuckles turning slightly white as he held the chalk in his hand.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "Get up."

No one moved.

He repeated himself: "Get up. I am not a god."

An old craftsman kneeling at the front raised his head, his eyes red-rimmed, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against a wooden board: "Your Highness, if you are a mortal, how would you know what's in the sky? How would you know that invisible thing is called oxygen? We've spent our whole lives forging iron; when the iron rusts, it rusts, and we never think about why it rusts. You can even explain the principles of heaven and earth; what are you if not a god?"

Xiao Lie looked at him, put down the chalk, then walked out from behind the podium, squatted down in front of the old craftsman, and looked him in the eye.

He said, "The things I'm about to tell you seem divine to you now because you've never heard them before. Once I've finished speaking, you'll have learned them and be able to explain them to others."

The old craftsman was stunned.

Xiao Lie stood up, glanced at the people kneeling on the ground, and said in a slightly louder voice, but his tone remained steady: "Get up. Wipe the ink clean and sit down again. I haven't finished speaking."

The people looked at each other. Some hesitated and stood up, some kowtowed again before getting up, and some were still trembling after sitting back down.

Xiao Lie returned to the podium, not continuing his lecture on oxidation, but first cleaning up the spilled ink and scraps of paper. Then he picked up the chalk again and wrote four words on the blackboard: "Science is not God."

He turned around, looked at the eyes below still filled with fear and awe, and said, "What you need to learn is not to worship me. It's to learn what I teach, and then to observe, think, and try it yourselves. When the day comes that you can discover new things without me explaining them, you'll know I'm not a god."

The classroom remained quiet for a long time.

Then the old craftsman who had been the first to kneel raised his hand, his voice still trembling but steadyer than before: "Your Highness... please continue. I'm listening."

Xiao Lie nodded, turned around and circled the word "oxygen" again before continuing his explanation.

That evening after class, he sat alone in a chair by the podium and closed his eyes for a while. Xu De brought in a bowl of hot soup and placed it on the table. He didn't leave immediately but stood at the door for a moment before saying, "Your Highness, were you frightened by those craftsmen today?"

Xiao Lie opened his eyes, picked up the soup bowl, took a sip, and said, "It wasn't that I was scared. It's just... it reminded me of something."

"What's up?"

Xiao Lie put down his bowl and looked out at the completely dark night: "What I teach is like gibberish to people in this era. They can accept it because they believe in me. But faith can't be used as a ladder. They have to stand at that height themselves to see it."

Xu De didn't reply, but gently closed the door.

That night, while grading homework, Xiao Lie noticed words written in charcoal by the craftsmen along the edges of several booklets: "The Prince is a god," "A deity descended to earth," and "It's a miracle I've been given a lecture by a deity." He lightly crossed out those lines with his annotation pen and added, "Cross out these three words. Replace them with: I can learn it."

Two months later, Xiao Lie finally finished teaching all sixteen textbooks from beginning to end.

On the day of the graduation exam, the classrooms of the Imperial Academy were packed with people. In addition to the forty-odd craftsmen, several officials from the Northern Frontier faction came to the court. The tea drinkers who often talked about the subject squatted outside the window and stood on tiptoe to look inside. Even the old gatekeeper at the entrance of the Imperial Academy moved his chair to the threshold and listened to the sounds inside.

The exam papers Xiao Lie handed out were very simple—ten arithmetic problems, five geometric proofs, three force analysis problems, and two questions and answers on combustion and oxidation. He had said beforehand that there would be no memorization test, only understanding and application. He sat on the podium watching the students below, heads bowed, answering their questions. Some were writing rapidly, some were biting their pens, thinking for a long time before putting down a single word, and some were still checking their work repeatedly after finishing, recalculating their answers again and again.

Two hours later, everyone handed in their papers.

Xiao Lie graded papers all night. The next morning, he sat on the podium, with more than forty papers neatly arranged in front of him, each marked with a score and comments. He rubbed his sore eyes, stood up, walked to the classroom door, and the morning light rushed in as he pushed it open, casting a long shadow behind him.

He said to the people who had been waiting outside all night, "It's all over."

There was a moment of silence outside the door, then a sound he had never heard before erupted—not cheers, not shouts, but the sound of a group of people crouching on the ground, their faces covered, their shoulders trembling. The old craftsman who had been the first to kneel and kowtow was now squatting at the bottom of the steps, his face buried in his hands, unable to utter a single word. A young craftsman next to him patted his back, saying, "It's over, it's over, it's all over," but as he patted him, he too crouched down, the two of them like two bundles of wheat blown down by the wind, shrinking into two stacked silhouettes on the steps.

Xiao Lie stood at the door watching them, neither approaching nor speaking.

After those people finally stood up and wiped their faces, he took out a pre-written document from his sleeve, unfolded it, and read it aloud: "Forty-two graduates of the engineering program have passed the examination and are hereby granted graduation. Effective immediately, they are awarded the title of 'Great Chu State Craftsman,' enjoying the salary of a seventh-rank official, and are to return to their hometowns to establish schools and pass on the knowledge of engineering. This is the imperial decree."

His voice was not loud, but every word fell steadily in the morning light, like nails driven into a wooden board, fixing a still swaying door frame in its rightful place.

The forty-two craftsmen knelt down to receive the document. When they stood up, some held onto the booklet tightly, while others examined the "National Craftsman" waist plaque over and over again, as if confirming whether the bronze plaque engraved with "Great Chu Engineering" could really be hung on their waists.

That afternoon, each of them carried a bundle containing textbooks and notes as they walked out of the Imperial Academy's gates.

Some returned to Cangzhou, some went to Youzhou, some traveled south along the official road back to Yongzhou, and some boarded grain transport boats and headed east along the canal. They carried the sixteen well-worn textbooks, the bronze plaque engraved with the words "National Craftsman" in their pockets, and the mathematical, physical, and chemical knowledge they had once regarded as "magical arts" in their minds.

Xiao Lie stood at the entrance of the Imperial Academy and watched them walk away until the last figure disappeared into the dust raised at the end of the official road.

Xu De stood beside him and asked, "Your Highness, do you think they can be taught well?"

Xiao Lie looked at the fading plume of smoke in the distance and said, "Teach one well if you can."