Li Yongyi halted, his silhouette framed against the twilight's somber veil, yielding passage to a carriage that rolled to a gentle stop, its wheels stirring faint clouds of dust. From the carriage alighted a maid, her hair in twin braids, clad in a verdant gown. She turned, extending a hand to aid a lady's descent. The lady, tall and graceful, wore a flowing azure dress, her lotus-hued slippers peeking beneath white silk stockings. Her hair cascaded like a raven cloud, yet only her elegant back was visible as she glided into the manor. The coachman flicked his whip, guiding the carriage to rest against the shadowed wall.
Unfazed by this fleeting scene, Li Yongyi delivered his letter to the porter of Willow Family Academy. The porter bade him wait outside while presenting the letter to Master Liu. Nodding, Li surveyed the academy's grounds. Though its grandeur was renowned, the reality surpassed mere repute: bamboo groves whispered in the breeze, orchids exhaled their subtle fragrance, and pavilions nestled amidst verdant seclusion. Students, ranging from youths of seven or eight to young men in their twenties, strolled in silken robes, adorned with jade pendants, swords, and scented sachets, each clutching a tome, their steps imbued with scholarly grace.
In his faded gray-brown garb, washed to a ghostly pallor, Li Yongyi stood serene, his gaze steady. Willow Family Academy's prestige could ease his path to securing official papers, a boon for a wanderer like him. With Old Stewardr Zhao's letter, why not seize this chance? As he pondered, he wandered the grounds, absorbing its quiet splendor.
Suddenly, a cluster of youths caught his ear, their voices raised in fervent debate over an arcane numeracy puzzle. Sensing an opportunity to prove his worth, Li approached, observed briefly, and declared, "You've erred in your method."
The students, vexed by a month-long struggle with this enigma, turned in surprise. Their minds, wrung like laundered cloth, sparked with irritation at this plainly clad youth. "How have we erred?" one snapped.
"Solve it yourself, if you're so bold," another challenged.
An elder student, more courteous, inquired, "Good sir, you claim we falter. Pray, enlighten us. Our master posed this riddle a month past: 'Arrange the numbers one to nine in three rows, such that each row, column, and diagonal sums to fifteen. How is it done?' Have you a solution?"
Li Yongyi studied the Ninefold Grid before him. In this world, numeracy was among the six arts of a gentleman, a discipline arduous and revered. Though a trivial puzzle in his former life, here its permutations confounded the untrained mind. Surrounded by silk-clad youths, he took up the brush and intoned softly, "The Ninefold Grid follows the mystic turtle: two and four as shoulders, six and eight as feet, three on the left, seven on the right, nine atop, one below, with five at the heart."
In moments, the month-long riddle unraveled. The students stood agape, their faces a tapestry of awe and disbelief.
From a loft above, a young lady observed, her gaze falling on her brother among the students. Noting their stunned expressions, she murmured to her maid, who descended with a knowing smile.
The porter returned, ushering Li to a tearoom divided by a screen. A scholar, some forty years of age, held the letter, gesturing for him to sit and pouring tea. "I know your purpose," the scholar said warmly. "On Old Steward Zhao's word, I would keep you. Yet, our ranks are full, and only a menial post remains—sweeping duties for two months, with modest pay. I trust you'll not mind."
"What's the wage?" Li Yongyi asked.
The scholar, stroking his beard, raised five fingers. "Five strings."
Li's eyes narrowed. Five strings—seventy-five coppers each—yielded a mere three hundred seventy-five coppers monthly, less than the twenty coppers needed daily for bare sustenance. A ploy, he realized, to deter him while sparing Zhao's honor. The scholar sipped his tea, adding, "Stay, and you may audit the students' discourse, learning letters and wisdom—a rare privilege."
Sipping his tea, Li saw through the flattery. Rising, he said, "My thanks, Master, but with hands, feet, medical skill, and martial prowess, I'll not abide such slight."
The scholar's face feigned regret, though a faint smile flickered in his eyes. He escorted Li out, opening the door himself. A clear laugh rang out: "Master Liu, you know naught of rice and salt! Five short strings a month? Our humblest laborers earn more in days!"
The speaker was a maid, Qinger, fifteen or sixteen, her round face bright with mirth, eyes gleaming. Master Liu replied smoothly, "A scholar embraces poverty, far from the kitchen's clamor. Well said, Maiden Qinger." He added, "Is Lady Xue here? Might I hear her play the lute?"
Qinger rolled her eyes, ignoring him, and turned to Li with a warm smile. "My lady saw your feat with the puzzle and deems your numeracy rare. If you'll not toil here, she offers a finer post. Will you come?"
Li Yongyi nodded after a moment's thought. Qinger, beaming, tugged his arm, leading him to a courtyard where lute notes drifted behind a screen. She explained: Lady Xue sought a study companion for her younger brother, but first, a test.
Qinger fetched a sheet of simple numeracy problems. Li, forged by fifteen years of rigorous mathematical training in his past life, dispatched them swiftly, a prodigy among this world's scholars.Qinger carried the answers behind the screen, and Lady Xue marveled, "So swift, and all correct!"
"Shall we hire him?" Qinger asked.
"Not yet," said Lady Xue. "Let's test his true mettle." She posed a geometry problem, calculating an area. Li answered with ease. Then came a grain conversion, a proportion puzzle, an edge-length derivation, and a volume calculation. Qinger's skirts fluttered like a blooming lotus as she ferried papers across the screen, its ink painting of seven sages a silent witness.
By the sixth question, Lady Xue's pace slowed, her expression shifting from delight to awe, as if beholding a marvel. Li's answers remained steady, unnervingly precise. Finally, she posed a problem from the *Nine Chapters of Arithmetic*, a complex linear equation set that had once stumped her. Li glanced at it, his brush dancing as swiftly as for the first.
Behind the screen, silence fell. Lady Xue closed her eyes, exhaling softly. Li asked, "How did I fare?"
The screen parted, revealing a lady in Qinger's gown, her brow adorned with a delicate floral mark, her face pale as jade. She raised one finger, hesitating. "If it's not too little, what of this sum?"
Li mused, "One string of copper? Acceptable."
Her smile was soft as spring. "Indeed, one string. One string a day."
Li Yongyi's thoughts stilled, his gaze fixed on her radiant beauty, like starlight unveiled. In that moment, she was the fairest vision he'd ever beheld.
**(End of Chapter)**