Chapter Thirty-One: Master Liu's Teachings

Hearing her father’s words, Liu Qin felt as if an iron pressed against her heart—both burning and warm. A rush of heat welled in her eyes. She clung tightly to her father’s neck, all her feelings converging into a single word, “Papa.”

“All right now, let go. You’re squeezing me so hard I can barely breathe.” Master Liu patted her hands and shook his head with a laugh. “You child, you’re always so sensitive—just a few words and the tears start falling. That’s what I fear most, your tears. Come, let Papa wipe them away so we can have a proper talk.”

Liu Qin nodded obediently, letting her father wipe her face clean with a handkerchief. She nestled quietly into his arms, waiting for him to continue.

Master Liu hesitated for a moment. He wasn’t sure if a child of just over five could understand reason, but deep down, he always felt his daughter was different, unconsciously treating her as older, like Jiang Li. Besides, some lessons were better learned early. So, picking up the thread, he continued, “Qin’er, you’re still young, and the only people you know are those here in the Liu household. Naturally, everyone likes you and indulges you. But you’ll grow up one day, and may even enter an entirely unfamiliar family. Then, you’ll meet all kinds of people, with all manner of personalities. Can you guarantee that everyone will like you, and you’ll like them in return?”

He shook his head. “No. Everyone has flaws, and many of these are precisely what makes others dislike them. Take me, for instance—there are many people at the yamen I don’t care for, but I can still get along peacefully and work happily with them. Do you know why? Because I don’t just see their faults; I value their strengths more. In this, your cousin Ali is smarter than you. He knows the teacher doesn’t favor him, but he endures it because he recognizes the teacher’s knowledge and that he can learn much from him.”

“I know you’re not an unfilial or disrespectful child. Offending your teacher today was a mistake, but not a grave one. I just want you to understand: it’s all right not to like someone, but you can’t insult or hurt them simply because of your dislikes. Sometimes, a careless comment from you could change the course of someone’s entire life.”

He smiled and pinched her cheek, looking into her wide, blinking eyes. “You may not understand all this yet, but when you grow up, you will. Enough talk—are you hungry? Come, let’s eat together. Today, there’s your favorite roast wild duck, made especially for you by your mother.”

With Emerald Willow and Jade Feather serving them, father and daughter enjoyed a hearty meal filled with love.

Liu Qin understood her father’s words perfectly. In essence, there were two points: first, that everyone’s character is shaped by their own reasons, and one must learn to forgive; second, the world does not bend to personal preferences. As long as someone is not a great villain, one should focus on their virtues, overlook their faults, and embrace others with generosity, rather than spreading negativity through rejection and hurt.

To recognize others clearly, to tolerate them greatly—these were lessons she had learned in her past life, but now, with her father’s gentle guidance, they were deeply imprinted in her heart. She did not realize how profoundly these words would shape her future, nor that, by teaching her how to judge and employ people, her father had paved the way for all that was to come.

Lessons at the school were suspended, because Mr. Zhang was leaving. This wasn’t because of Liu Qin’s couplet, but because Master Liu had already found him a better position: an assistant lecturer at the Imperial Academy. Though the rank was not high, it was still the nation’s foremost seat of learning, an official post far more respectable than that of a private tutor.

Mr. Zhang was deeply grateful to Master Liu, and Liu Qin’s couplet also gave him much to ponder. When Jiang Li and the others came to bid him farewell, and Liu Qin bowed her head to apologize, Mr. Zhang, uncharacteristically gentle, patted her head. After a long, thoughtful pause, he said with a wry smile, “You three are the most gifted students I have ever taught. Liu Qin, your couplet was excellent. I deliberated all night and could not come up with a more fitting reply. You’re very clever, standing above Wenhai in talent, but not quite as diligent. In a sense, your couplet awakened me. Reflecting on it, I realize I was indeed biased against you and Jiang Li, and failed in my duty as a teacher. I am very sorry, and I hope you both will not hold it against me. After I leave, do not neglect your studies. Jiang Li, as the eldest, you must set a good example.”

With their promises, Mr. Zhang departed, leaving only his integrity behind. Though he was strict, his scholarly pride was undeniable; he was not the sort to curry favor with the powerful. Otherwise, Master Liu would never have chosen him to teach his children, nor recommended him to the Imperial Academy.

After Mr. Zhang’s departure, Liu Qin returned to her leisurely days, sleeping until she woke naturally. The family school would resume after the New Year, and Master Liu had arranged for their new teacher to be Mr. Zhou—the same scholar they had saved during that shopping trip. Once Mr. Zhou had wrapped up his duties at the yamen and returned to his hometown for a visit, he would begin teaching them on the sixteenth day of the first month.

Soon, the twelfth lunar month arrived. In the Plum Courtyard, buds that had only just appeared now blossomed in profusion—red, yellow, and white—each more beautiful than the last. Most precious of all was a single green calyx plum, its pale green petals made even more striking and rare by the surrounding colors.

That year, the southern lands were different from years past—a heavy snow fell in thick, fluttering flakes. It was the first snowfall Liu Qin had witnessed in this world. Snow and plum blossoms seemed born to complement each other; under the snow’s light, the blossoms were all the more radiant, while the sparkling drifts seemed to carry the flowers’ subtle fragrance.

That morning, Liu Qin flung open her window and, seeing the courtyard blanketed in dazzling white, ran outside in just a thin jacket, too delighted to remember the cold. Eventually, Jade Feather dragged her back indoors, all the while scolding her, and was then sent hustling to fetch Jiang Li, Haige, and Chaoge to come admire the snowy scene in the Plum Courtyard.

When Jiang Li arrived, he saw a small figure in a bright red fur cloak, the white fox collar setting off a face even paler than the snow. Her lips were redder than the blossoms on the branches. She stood in the snow, scooped up a handful, and tossed it into the air. Snowflakes danced around her as she laughed, her voice clear and sweet, echoing far and wide. In that moment, she was like a spirit of the snow, utterly enchanting Jiang Li.

Liu Qin had hoped to imitate the elegant gatherings from Dream of the Red Chamber, composing poetry amidst the snow, but they were all too young for such refinement. When Haige and Chaoge arrived, it quickly turned into a snowball fight and building snowmen—simple childhood fun. Fortunately, Liu Qin had long since adapted to being a child again, and soon all the little ones were laughing and playing, leaving a tangle of footprints in the snow.

In the midst of their game, Liu Qin suddenly stumbled and fell into the snow. Jade Feather cried out and rushed forward, but was a step too slow. Jiang Li had already reached her, lifting her from the snow. But just as he did, Liu Qin wriggled in his arms, twisted around, and knocked him off balance. He fell backward into the snow, and Liu Qin landed on top of him, refusing to get up. Instead, she slid her two small, frozen hands—red and icy—down his neck, laughing gleefully at her own mischief.

Jiang Li shivered uncontrollably, glaring at her with mock anger. But in his eyes, laughter overflowed, like floodwaters breaching a dam, spreading joy throughout the Plum Courtyard.