Chapter 1029: Zhuge Yuan Extra 3: Rules

Chapter 1029: Zhuge Yuan Side Story 3: The Rules

"Silang, Silang!" The master's voice pulled Zhuge Yuan's attention away from the dragonfly flitting past the window and back to his teacher's naturally stern face.

"Daydreaming again!" The master looked at him with a mix of exasperation and disappointment. "Silang, those who study under me are not valued for their cleverness or agility, but for their diligence, steadfastness, and humility!"

"Yes, Master, your instruction is well-taken." Zhuge Yuan gave him a proper, respectful bow.

Watching Zhuge Yuan’s expression—the look of a pig that doesn't fear boiling water—the sighing master walked over and looked the half-grown boy up and down. "Silang, you live your days in such a daze; have you ever considered what you wish to achieve in the future?"

"I have! I want to be a great hero!"

"Have you been reading those cheap storybooks again? Where did you hide them? If I find them, I’ll burn them all! Why aren't you this enthusiastic about serious books?"

After a fruitless, angry search, the master spoke to Zhuge Yuan again, somewhat helplessly: "If you want to be a great hero, daydreaming in class won't do. To be a great hero, you naturally need great skills. At the very least, shouldn't you aim for some academic rank?"

"Look at yourself now—what part of you measures up? You want to be a great hero like this? If I threw you out into the world, I fear you wouldn't even be able to feed yourself!"

Just as Zhuge Yuan was about to defend himself, a palm-sized book slipped from his sleeve. "Aha! Caught you red-handed!"

Seeing the master roll up his sleeves and march toward him, Zhuge Yuan gave a start, his body jolting violently, and he suddenly woke up.

Looking at the rafters above and surveying the cramped room that could barely fit a single bed, Zhuge Yuan finally realized he no longer had to attend school.

But no sooner had a sliver of relief touched his heart than a wave of intense longing washed over him; he missed his master and the others.

"Bang, bang, bang!" The door was knocked upon. "Hurry up! We have heavy work today! Get up!"

"Coming! Coming!" The men sleeping on either side of Zhuge Yuan scrambled up, hastily dressing and washing.

"Sigh," a melancholic Zhuge Yuan sat up and joined them in the day's labor.

As the sun began to rise, Zhuge Yuan struggled to carry a stack of books outside. Once there, he spread the old volumes out on the bluestone slabs one by one, letting the scorching sun drive away the mold and insect eggs.

After finishing, he straightened his back, wiped the sweat from his brow, and took a gulp from the water gourd at his waist.

Refreshed, he looked at the courtyard filled with scrolls. Some were new, some old, but the contents were a chaotic mix of everything imaginable.

However, they were not allowed to read the books; according to the seniors, they were not qualified. At their age, reading too many miscellaneous books would only clutter the mind.

Yet, even without reading, Zhuge Yuan’s mind was in turmoil. He had been at Minglun Hall for some time now, doing nothing but menial chores. Not only had he learned no real skills, but the things he had learned from his master were beginning to fade. This was not at all what he had imagined when he left his village.

Recalling his dream, Zhuge Yuan’s resolve hardened. "This won't do. If I continue like this, when will I ever fulfill the promise I made to my master when I left the village?"

If they wouldn't teach him, he would find a way to learn himself. If that proved impossible, he would simply leave Minglun Hall; the world was vast, and he would find his own way. He could not waste his life away like this.

"Hey, what are you doing? Stop slacking off," asked a plump boy with a mole on the left corner of his mouth, setting down a book.

Zhuge Yuan turned to his friend, whom he had met because they shared a room, and asked, "Longke, isn't it said that the people in Minglun Hall possess great skills?"

"That's right, their skills are incredible. Last year, during a heavy snow, I even saw someone flying in the sky!"

"Then when will they start teaching us?"

"Teach what?"

"Teach skills. The kind of flying you mentioned, or perhaps academics."

Tang Longke reached out to touch Zhuge Yuan’s forehead. "Kid, have you lost your mind? Why are you talking nonsense? Why would they teach us?"

"Huh?" Zhuge Yuan was stunned. "Why wouldn't they? Aren't we disciples of Minglun Hall too?"

"Big brother, we aren't disciples of Minglun Hall. When did you ever hear that we were disciples? We are the servants of Minglun Hall—the ones who do the chores!"

"I know we are the servants, but shouldn't servants also be disciples? Shouldn't they be taught?"

"Have you ever seen a school that teaches its servants?"

"My master's school taught everyone. Isn't it a given that education should be provided without discrimination?"

Tang Longke looked at the young man helplessly. The fellow had a good heart, but he seemed like a savage from the mountains, completely ignorant of the ways of the world.

"Listen, kid. They are the scholarly masters, and we are the underlings. People are divided into ranks and classes. We are here at Minglun Hall to serve them. Do you understand now?"

Zhuge Yuan rested his chin in his hand and thought hard, then shook his head. "I don't understand. People are all people; why must there be ranks? Even if someone had an extra head, we should still be treated the same."

"Sigh, keep wondering then. I'm going back to work."

Just then, a group of men dressed in fine silk walked out of the hall with troubled expressions. Zhuge Yuan noticed an old man he had met briefly upon arriving at Minglun Hall speaking with them.

As Zhuge Yuan drew closer, their voices drifted over.

"Brother Wenshui, with the poor harvest in the south, the price of paper has risen so much. It is unreasonable to keep collecting at this rate."

"Indeed, indeed. At this price, forget about white paper; we can't even afford hemp paper."

"Gentlemen, rules are rules. If you do not wish to supply the paper, then do not sell the books. The Hall can naturally find others."

"Alas, being a Confucian merchant is not easy."

By the time Zhuge Yuan stood still, the men had already left with sighs, and the old man turned to head back inside.

"Senior!" Zhuge Yuan hurried forward and bowed.

However, the man acted as if he hadn't seen him, silently turning to enter.

Zhuge Yuan took a few quick steps to block his path. "Senior, may I ask when this disciple might be allowed to enter the inner hall for study?"

The old man finally spoke, his tone low. "What kind of clothes are you wearing right now?"

Zhuge Yuan looked down at his brown tunic. "Servant's garb."

"Since you are a servant, then act like a servant. That is the rule."

Zhuge Yuan stepped forward. "But Senior Brother Yuting once said I could enter—"

The old man, eyes flashing with anger, cut him off. "What does it matter what he said? I say no, and that is final! It is because of vermin like you who rely on connections that Minglun Hall has become what it is today! A disciple of Minglun Hall? You think you are worthy?"

"Get out of the way!" With that, the old man stomped his feet, his lean frame slamming into Zhuge Yuan like a giant bell.

Just as he was about to be hit, Zhuge Yuan formed a seal with his right hand, his speed instantly increasing, and he dodged the blow, leaving an afterimage behind.

The old man stopped and turned, looking at Zhuge Yuan in surprise. "Who taught you that move?"

"Some little tricks taught to me by a friend at my old school." Zhuge Yuan stood firm and bowed again.

"Not bad. You have talent."

As Zhuge Yuan’s eyes lit up, the man’s next words followed immediately.

"But rules are rules! What does talent matter? What do a few tricks matter? Since you are a servant, get back to your chores and do them properly!"