At dawn, as usual, Cheng Jinzhou went to the private school to study under the old professor's endless tutelage. His calligraphy had improved noticeably, though he still wrote awkwardly when copying texts.
After enduring the old professor's lecture, Cheng Jinzhou's mind was completely preoccupied with thoughts of his ring. He stood up, ready to skip class. Aside from Old Master Cheng, no other instructor truly cared whether he attended or not.
Following a few younger students out, Cheng Jinzhou boldly picked up his copy of the Three Character Classic and made to leave. Before he could exit, the previously angry young noble boy sprang up and declared loudly, "Cheng Jinzhou! As nobility, your behavior is most improper. Attending class isn't just about acquiring knowledge—it's about learning respect! You can't just—"
"And who might you be?" Cheng Jinzhou employed the same dismissive tone he'd used against schoolyard bullies in his elementary days.
The indignant young lord, having never experienced 21st-century schooling tactics, flushed crimson with rage. Pointing imperiously, he commanded, "You must stay—!"
Despite his youth, this boy was genuine aristocracy—a direct descendant of the Great Xia imperial line, the youngest grandson of the Southern Mausoleum Prince, Zhao Yeyu. Though the title of prince might sound modest, it was still a royal designation no amount of merit could earn for commoners.
Had it been the prince himself, Cheng Jinzhou would have complied. But for the grandson of a prince? He shrugged lazily, deciding it wasn't worth engaging with this self-righteous brat. Setting his book down, he said, "Fine, I'll just step out to relieve myself. When the professor arrives, do inform him."
Cheng Jinzhou walked out as he spoke, but the moment he passed through the doorway, he collided with someone.
Looking up, he saw Cheng Jinhao—the cousin who'd suffered an embarrassing defeat recently.
Due to his chronic illnesses, Cheng Jinzhou's academic progress lagged far behind his peers, still stuck at what amounted to third grade level. Meanwhile, as one of the rare hardworking geniuses of the Cheng family, Cheng Jinhao had long been studying among near-adults.
Now, surrounded by his classmates-turned-lackeys, Cheng Jinhao had Cheng Jinzhou completely encircled. He snorted triumphantly through his nose like a boar suppressing laughter.
Having spent over twenty years in school environments, Cheng Jinzhou was no stranger to this sort of physical intimidation. Feigning curiosity, he asked, "Shouldn't you all be in class?"
"If we were in class, how would we get to see my brilliant cousin?" Cheng Jinhao crowed with smug satisfaction.
Cheng Jinzhou thought to himself that even if he was the "sickly Cheng," they weren't even from the same branch—this so-called cousinhood meant nothing.
Not wanting to provoke this junior branch heir too much, he shrugged. "Waiting here is pointless. Behind me stands Zhao Yeyu, grandson of the Southern Mausoleum Prince, plus other witnesses. If you lay a hand on me, I'll take this straight to our grandmother."
"You wouldn't dare! What kind of man runs to tattle?" Cheng Jinhao, for all his intelligence, was still a child who'd never bullied someone more favored than himself. He could only resort to threats.
Zhao Yeyu looked increasingly confused about why he'd become this degenerate noble's pawn.
Smiling slightly, Cheng Jinzhou surveyed the hulking students surrounding him and narrowed his eyes. "Cheng Jinhao here is the main-line heir of the Long branch. At worst, he'd get his hands caned and be grounded for a few months. But you lot—I don't recognize you. Probably illegitimate, right? Don't cause trouble for your parents. Let me make this clear—I'm the third son of the main Qing branch line. Laying hands on me would be overstepping your station. Your entire families would suffer."
Children frighten easily. The boys who'd followed Cheng Jinhao immediately wavered, their circle loosening unconsciously. Cheng Jinzhou ducked his head with a quiet laugh and slipped through. Cheng Jinhao's lips twitched, but no sound emerged.
The indignant young lord watched silently as Cheng Jinzhou departed.
Another victory in the nursery world of aristocratic politics.
A favored status and influential father formed the foundation of Great Xia nobility. These nobles occupied the nation's upper echelons, while commoner elites could only struggle to prove their worth in the middle ranks. To truly influence the nation's destiny required generations of sustained effort.
This was an era unconcerned with human rights or fairness. Adults didn't coddle children with illusions of equality—precious as such illusions might be.
Thus, in the Cheng family's private school, students had long since internalized their positions based on parental status—positions often explicitly defined by their parents themselves.
As the presumptive heir to Shaonan's upper circles, Cheng Jinzhou needed to pay attention to few besides fellow main-line Chengs. Conversely, from the moment he left the classroom, many eyes followed him.
Eager to reach the annex, Cheng Jinzhou paid no heed to these watching gazes.
The gatekeeper waited at the annex entrance until Cheng Jinzhou's carriage disappeared from view before slowly returning inside to cradle his teapot again.
Two young attendants he'd recently selected stared wide-eyed at the passing two-wheeled carriage. "We must be careful with him too?"
"Naturally." The gatekeeper remembered exactly how he'd obtained his position and wouldn't risk losing it the same way. Not bothering to explain, he glared fiercely. "Whoever comes, you serve them carefully—especially him. The slightest mistake, and I'll skin you alive."
The questioner's head nearly shrank into his chest with fright.
Inside the carriage, Cheng Jinzhou focused entirely on the green mist floating before him, grinning. "Mr. Customer Service, found a book?"
After repeated failed attempts to extract personal information from Customer Service Agent 010, Cheng Jinzhou had taken to calling him "Mr. CS."
"151,000 characters. Confirm?"
"Finally picked something substantial," Cheng Jinzhou remarked, his tone ambiguously between jest and jab.
Agent 010 replied impassively, "Your rising Star Alliance rank reflects growing economic capability. Our system accommodates members' diverse needs."
"Except linguistic ones."
"Confirm?" The agent clearly wanted to end this discussion.
"151,000 characters costs 302 star credits... and might not even be in Chinese." Cheng Jinzhou hesitated—this equaled 30 tons of grain, 40 taels of silver, or roughly $1200 in purchasing power. Enough for a fourth-hand car in the 21st century.
After a pause, Agent 010 prompted, "If declined, the system will re-filter."
"No need." Cheng Jinzhou suddenly laughed. "You've finally produced something resembling a proper book—I can't refuse. Though I don't have that much grain right now."
He glanced around the carriage. "See anything here we could barter?"
"Wood or metal products?"
Cheng Jinzhou examined the intricately carved high-backed chair and decorative bronze fittings, shaking his head ruefully. "I'd better find more grain."
Facing a system that only accepted raw materials, even the Cheng family's finest goods couldn't fetch cabbage prices. Those hollowed-out chair carvings would only reduce their value.