It didn't take long before Song Yingxing arrived at the gates of the school.
From the entrance, he could see a vast playground inside — bright, open, and full of life. Just looking at it lifted his mood.
He was about to step through the gate when a stern voice barked from the guard post,
"Who are you? State your business here!"
Startled, Song turned and saw a burly man glaring at him.
This man, as it turned out, was the school's security guard — because Dao Xuan Tianzun took student safety seriously. Instead of hiring an elderly doorman like other schools, he had hired a strong, dependable man who could actually handle trouble if it came.
Song cupped his hands politely. "I am Song Yingxing, from Fengxin County in Jiangxi. I've come to Gaojia Village's school seeking knowledge."
The guard blinked, then grinned. "Ah, so you're Mister Song! The Tianzun gave orders — you may explore freely. All classrooms and the library are open to you, though… it's best not to enter during class hours."
"Tianzun?" Song asked. "Who might that be?"
The guard only chuckled. "You'll find out soon enough."
Song frowned in mild confusion. Probably that Daoist Ma again — those fellows do love tossing 'Tianzun' around.
Inside, the sight immediately left him stunned.
A towering five-story teaching building loomed over the grounds. What kind of engineering could raise a structure this tall and keep it standing? He hurried closer, thumped the wall twice, and felt the firmness under his palm. Rock solid. No sign of weakness.
Impressive construction… I'll have to study this technique later.
He stepped into the first classroom.
A sign read Grade 1, Class 1. Inside, rows of children sat neatly, reciting lessons from The Three-Character Classic.
Song nodded approvingly. A fine school indeed.
He moved along — Class 2, Class 3, Class 4 — all more or less the same.
But when he reached Class 5, something caught his eye.
The teacher at the front was… a young girl, barely twelve or thirteen.
It was none other than the Third Miss, teaching math on Dao Xuan Tianzun's orders — a "divinely appointed instructor," as the village liked to say.
She pointed at a symbol on the board. "This is the number five. Remember it — five!"
The children chorused, "Five!"
From the doorway, Song's eyes lit up.
Wait a second… I've seen that mark before!
It was the same symbol the little boy at the noodle shop had used while doing the books!
So that's what it means — five!
He froze in place, unable to move on, and began eavesdropping like a captivated child.
First-grade math was wonderfully simple. Within minutes, Song had learned all the Arabic numerals and even grasped the symbols for addition and subtraction. Suddenly, everything from last night's noodle shop made perfect sense.
So that's it! This "mathematics" is just an advanced kind of arithmetic!
With these new symbols, he realized, even complex problems became clear.
For example, "three thousand two hundred and thirty-two plus thirty-two" could now be written as 3232 + 32 — elegant, fast, and easy to calculate.
Brilliant. I must learn this thoroughly!
Just as he was getting into it, class ended.
The Third Miss clapped her hands. "That's all for today! I'm off to the next class!" She skipped out cheerfully.
Song stood there, utterly unsatisfied. Already? I was just getting started!
Then he remembered what Bai Gongzi had told him — that the school had a library full of books where all knowledge could be learned, no need to sneak around.
Without hesitation, he dashed off to find it — searched the first floor, the second, the third, the fourth… still nothing. So up to the fifth floor he ran.
Halfway up the stairs, he nearly tripped over a panting scholar hauling himself upward.
It was Zhao Sheng, the "Lamp-Lighter" — Dao Xuan's night-study overseer — wheezing halfway to collapse.
Seeing Song sprint by, Zhao gasped, "Bro… brother… pull… me up… please… these stairs… will… be… my end…"
Song blinked in alarm and quickly helped drag him to the top.
Zhao collapsed onto the landing, breathing hard. "Huff… thank you… good sir… I truly thought… I'd die on the fourth floor…"
Song sighed inwardly. How fragile can one scholar be?
He kept that thought to himself and asked, "I'm looking for the library, brother. Could you point me in the right direction?"
Zhao panted, "F-fifth door… ahead…"
"Many thanks!"
Song hurried down the corridor, found the fifth door, and opened it.
Rows upon rows of shelves filled the room, crammed with books — The Three-Character Classic, Hundred Family Surnames, The Analects, The Great Learning, Doctrine of the Mean…
He skimmed past them impatiently — until his eyes caught the titles he'd been searching for:
"Elementary Mathematics" — twelve volumes in total.
Then, "Junior Physics" — six volumes.
And "Junior Chemistry" — another six.
He picked up a physics book and flipped it open.
"Gravity…" he read aloud, eyes sparkling. "Ah! I've sensed this force before, but never had such a clear concept. Mass… hmm? Blast it — calculating mass requires mathematics. Gears… fascinating! But again — mathematics. Buoyancy and weight… curse it, more mathematics!"
Flipping page after page, he realized nine out of ten subjects depended on math. Without understanding it, even the symbols were mysterious.
He grabbed a chemistry book next, intrigued by the words "The properties, transformations, and processes of matter…"
It mentioned that the people of the Shang dynasty had made bronze, and by the Spring and Autumn period they'd mastered iron and steel.
Song's eyes gleamed. Now this — this is my kind of study!
He read further…
Then collapsed onto the floor with a groan.
"Even chemistry needs math?!"
From a nearby desk came a gentle tapping sound.
Song looked up — it was the same exhausted scholar, Zhao Sheng, now recovered and smiling warmly.
"Master Song," he said kindly, "don't be discouraged. The Tianzun has said — these things may seem difficult for ordinary people, but not for you. With your intellect, you'll master them in no time."
Song blinked. "And you are…?"
"Zhao Sheng," the man replied with a slight bow. "Vice principal of this school."
(Trivia: In Ming China, arithmetic was often called Suanfa (算法), taught mainly to merchants. True "mathematics" as science wasn't yet widespread — so introducing Arabic numerals here mirrors China's real historical leap forward, which began during the late Ming through Jesuit influence.)