BDSMST -Chapter 107 The “School” in the Farm

A month later, the first public building in Woniu Village—a brick-and-tiled structure called the “Enlightenment School”—was officially completed.

The school wasn’t large: three main rooms and two side rooms, but it was bright, spacious, and solidly built. The windows were made from the special oil paper Jiang Suisui had carefully ordered from the capital, strong yet translucent, allowing the classrooms to be filled with natural light.

The desks and benches were crafted by the village carpenters from the finest wood, with corners smoothed and rounded so that children wouldn’t get scratched.

On the day the school was completed, Jiang Suisui didn’t hold a grand ceremony. Instead, she simply gathered all the village children aged six to twelve on the open ground in front of the school.

Most of these children came from newly settled farming families. They were thin and pale, their eyes a mix of shyness and curiosity. Their clothes were patched and worn, and many were even barefoot.

The few spoiled young nobles who had come from the capital with Gu Yan’s family—“dispatched” by their households—stood lazily to the side, looking at the group of “mud-legged” children with unmistakable disdain.

“From today onward, all of you will come here every morning to study,” Jiang Suisui said from the steps, her voice clear enough to reach every child.

“Here, you won’t pay a single coin for tuition. At noon, you’ll even get a meal and an egg each.”

At first, the children didn’t react much, but their parents—the nearby villagers who had gathered to watch—erupted in excitement.

“What? School and meals too?”

“Where in the world is there such a good thing! Madam is truly a living Bodhisattva!”

“One egg! My child has grown up and never eaten a whole egg before!”

The children’s eyes brightened at the mention of an egg.

“But,” Jiang Suisui shifted, “our school is different from the private academies outside.”

She took out a small blackboard and wrote several large characters with chalk: Literacy, Mathematics, Agriculture, Investigation of Things.

“Besides reading and writing, you will learn mathematics—how to calculate, measure land, and manage accounts. You will study agriculture—know the twenty-four solar terms, how to identify seeds, and how to fertilize crops. You will also study Investigation of Things—to recognize the plants, birds, and animals of the mountains and understand everything around us.”

The spoiled young nobles scoffed.

“Agriculture? Investigation of Things? What kind of learning is that? Only country bumpkins study this,” Wang Xiaopang, grandson of Minister Wang, said disdainfully, turning up his nose.

Jiang Suisui ignored them and continued:

“In the afternoons, you will follow the adults in the estate to work in the fields. This isn’t to make you do manual labor; it’s so you personally plant a rice seedling, care for a fruit tree. Only by doing it yourself will you truly understand the knowledge from books.”

“Theory combined with practice?” Gu Yan murmured softly beside her, using a phrase Jiang Suisui had once taught him.

She smiled at him.

Finally, she looked at the few unwilling young nobles.

“You too. Since your families have entrusted you to my husband, you must follow the rules here. Starting tomorrow, you will attend class with everyone else.”

“Why should we!” Wang Xiaopang jumped up first. “We are noble sons from the capital! How can we study with these mud-legged country kids?”

“Because here, I make the rules,” Jiang Suisui’s smile vanished. “If you are unwilling, fine. Write to your families and have them take you back. Woniu Village does not feed idlers, and certainly not useless children.”

The young nobles were silenced, their faces flushed with embarrassment. They all knew they had been “sent here for reform” by their families. If they were sent back, the consequences would be worse.

The first lesson officially began.

Jiang Suisui herself became the first teacher. She didn’t start with the dry Three Character Classic or Hundred Family Surnames.

Instead, she had a large sandbox brought in, containing a miniature model of Woniu Village.

“Today, our first lesson is to learn about our own home.”

She pointed to the mountains, rivers, and fields on the sandbox, using vivid language to tell the children the story of the land beneath their feet—where to get water, where to plant rice, which mountains had mushrooms, and which forests hid wild rabbits.

The children were completely captivated. Even the few young nobles who had originally looked down on them gradually became interested.

Next came the mathematics lesson.

Jiang Suisui didn’t teach complex multiplication or division. Instead, she brought in a basket of potatoes.

“There are fifty potatoes here. We need to divide them among ten children. How many does each child get?”

“If each potato sells for two coins, how much money can we make from this basket?”

“To cultivate one acre of land, ten workers are needed. How many workers would it take to cultivate ten acres?”

These questions were closely related to their everyday lives. The children eagerly stretched out their fingers to calculate, learning with great enthusiasm.

When it came to agriculture class, Jiang Suisui moved the lesson directly to the fields.

She pulled up a stalk of rice and a weed.

“Look, what’s the difference between these two plants? Why do we keep the rice and pull out the weeds?”

She taught the children how to identify different crops and how to judge whether plants were lacking water or fertilizer by looking at the color of the leaves.

By the end of the morning, all the children found the lessons fascinating and fun.

At noon, when steaming bowls of rice, a large pot of stewed cabbage, and a boiled egg for each child were placed in front of them, the farm children’s eyes widened in delight. They carefully peeled the eggs, licking them first, then taking small bites as if savoring a rare delicacy.

Gu Xuan split his egg in half and gave it to a smaller girl beside him.

Even Wang Xiaopang, who had been poking at the fragrant rice in his bowl, found it tastier than the exotic dishes he was used to in the capital.

In the afternoon, the children were divided into small groups and guided by the experienced farmers in the estate to experience farm life. Some watered the vegetable plots, some weeded the orchards, and others picked up scattered rice grains.

Wang Xiaopang was assigned to feed the pigs. He pinched his nose at the stinky pigsty, thoroughly unwilling.

But when he saw the piglets scrambling to gobble up the food he had poured, squealing happily, an inexplicable sense of accomplishment welled up inside him.

By the end of the day, all the children were exhausted, but their faces showed an unprecedented sense of satisfaction and excitement.

At night, Jiang Suisui sat under the lamp, reviewing the “homework” the children had submitted—drawings with charcoal of the most impressive thing they had seen that day.

Most of the children had drawn the fragrant egg.

Gu Xuan drew the moment he shared his egg with the little girl.

And Wang Xiaopang’s drawing was… a pig whose belly had grown round from eating.

Looking at their tender strokes, Jiang Suisui smiled with satisfaction.

Education isn’t about forcing knowledge—it’s about igniting a flame. She knew that she had already planted a tiny seed called “hope” in the hearts of these children.

Just as she set down the charcoal, Gu Yan walked in, holding several sharpened bamboo sticks.

“Tomorrow, it’ll be my turn to give them a lesson,” he said.