When Cheng Jinzhou arrived home, the sky had already turned pitch black. His mother was still waiting in her room. Hearing the commotion outside, she lifted her skirts and hurried out, her voice a mix of reproach and concern. "Don't stay out so late again. Your constitution is weak—you need more rest. Attending the family school is our ancestors' rule, so there's no helping that, but after classes, you shouldn't go wandering about."
"I'm perfectly fine," Cheng Jinzhou replied, warmed by his mother's worried expression. It reminded him of home—whenever he returned late, he'd receive the same scolding. He couldn't help but chuckle, though the laughter soon gave way to melancholy.
Whether through transmigration or otherwise, gains always came with losses.
"Still laughing?" Mother Cheng feigned anger. "The ancestral rites are in a few days. What if you catch a chill again?"
For a moment, Cheng Jinzhou felt as though time and space had overlapped. Rubbing his eyes, he said, "I just went to the villa today to clear my mind."
Mother Cheng scrutinized her son before draping a short jacket over his shoulders. "I heard you bought a lot of rice and flour, and even registered it at the yamen?"
The prefect was Cheng Jinzhou's father, after all. Minor officials would naturally report anything concerning him.
Grinning, Cheng Jinzhou casually explained, "I want to make something."
Ever since the rise of Star Scholars, grain had become increasingly important—not just as a strategic reserve but also as a subject of study. Even at the family school, teachers frequently conducted experiments with various crops.
Mother Cheng wasn't truly concerned about the grain's use. She tapped Cheng Jinzhou's forehead lightly. "Do you know how much a single acre yields? The amount you casually used up could feed a family for a year."
Having just learned this today, Cheng Jinzhou smiled placatingly. "Sloped fields yield about 3 dan per year with two harvests, flat fields yield 6 dan, and paddy fields with two harvests yield 10 dan. The best land can produce six times that of sloped fields—around 18 dan, right?"
Eighteen dan was roughly 900 jin—the highest yield possible from the finest land with meticulous labor. Yet it paled in comparison to modern agriculture. In the 21st century, mixed-crop fields yielding 1,000 kilograms per mu were no longer rare. Without such productivity, 1.8 billion mu of land could never sustain 1.3 billion people.
Mother Cheng stared at him in surprise before pinching his cheek. "Not bad. Seems you've been studying."
The head maid chimed in sweetly, "Third Young Master is so clever and hardworking—he's bound for greatness."
But Mother Cheng sighed, patting Cheng Jinzhou's head. "I don't ask for greatness—just stay safe and sound. Like your uncle... such a remarkable man..."
Her voice broke as she began to weep softly.
Her elder brother, the most promising Star Scholar of the Zheng family in Hexi, had perished when his airship was blown up during battle.
Cheng Jinzhou didn't know how to comfort her, but Mother Cheng soon dried her tears and forced a smile. "Enough of this gloom. Go wash up and rest. Pearl, help him."
Resigned, Cheng Jinzhou was ushered into the eastern wing, where two maids attended to his washing. Grumbling, he muttered, "It's only nine. I even napped at noon."
Pearl, a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, gently wiped his face with a towel. "If not for waiting up for you, the mistress would've retired by seven. It's good you napped, Young Master, with how late you study every night."
Influenced by the West, the Great Xia Dynasty had adopted the 24-hour clock, especially among the wealthy.
After removing his shoes and having his feet washed, Cheng Jinzhou lay back against a pillow. "Pearl, light two candles. I want to read for a while."
Pearl retrieved four thumb-thick candles from a drawer and lit them by the bedside. Like in ancient China, candles were bright but expensive—commoners couldn't even afford oil lamps.
Once the maids left, Cheng Jinzhou leisurely pulled out his handwritten manuscript from his robes. Each page was densely covered in tiny, meticulous calligraphy—about two hundred characters per sheet.
A single candle typically emitted around 12 lumens. Four together made for excellent reading light.
Propping up one leg, Cheng Jinzhou reread Elements of Geometry from start to finish. Truthfully, despite years in school, he'd never actually read it—most math majors in the 21st century rarely chose it as supplementary material.
In this world, making the most of every book might be his only advantage.
By the time most of the candles had burned down, Cheng Jinzhou finally put away the manuscript and fell asleep.
The next day, he attended classes as usual, moving to a new classroom with different teachers and classmates. The educational structure somewhat resembled 21st-century universities.
Within Jinchuan Prefecture, the Cheng Family School was renowned. Every five years, it produced a dozen or so imperial examination graduates. In particularly fortunate years, it even yielded Star Scholars with official ranks—unlike those who cheated their way in. Becoming a ranked Star Scholar was like a carp leaping through the Dragon Gate, propelling one into the empire's highest echelons.
In the entire Great Xia Dynasty, barely one person might pass the rank evaluation each year. Of course, countless ordinary Star Scholars still emerged, though achieving even that was immensely difficult for most.
Cheng Jinzhou's education still focused on the imperial exams. For noble families, even if one met the requirements, lacking talent as a Star Scholar made pursuing an official career the wiser choice—with some cleverness, a decent post could always be secured. In the realm of Star Studies, family influence carried far less weight.
The young lecturer at the podium continued swaying his head, reciting lines for the students to repeat. His voice was clear and fluent, but unlike Old Master Cheng from the previous day, he lacked the courage to call out Cheng Jinzhou's behavior, pretending not to notice.
Cheng Jinzhou was perfectly content with this. He flipped through his copied pages of Elements, laboriously working through proofs with a quill, committing each step to memory. Occasionally, he'd gaze blankly out the window, feigning deep thought.
Naturally, his behavior stood out. His muttering and fidgeting inevitably disturbed the other students.
Soon, a derisive snort came from nearby, followed by a child's voice dripping with resentment: "The reputation of our dynasty's nobility is ruined by the likes of you."
Cheng Jinzhou turned to see a boy of about ten in a pale green vest—someone he didn't recognize from Sickly Cheng's memories.
Meeting Cheng Jinzhou's gaze, the boy piped up in his unbroken voice, "Ignorant and unskilled—how can you set an example for others?"
This kid speaks in proverbs. Cheng Jinzhou couldn't help but laugh. "Our nobility's reputation was ruined long before me. What's it got to do with me?"
In a society rife with stark contradictions, notions of personal integrity were meaningless. Cheng Jinzhou had no interest in debating a brat.
The boy raised his voice. "Aristocratic families are the foundation of our dynasty—"
"Did your father teach you that?" Cheng Jinzhou rudely cut him off, waving a hand dismissively. "Focus on your studies instead of staring at me. The time you spend watching me would be better spent on your books. At least then your father's tuition wouldn't be wasted."
His own longstanding hatred for schooling made him add a few extra jabs. Noticing the entire class watching, Cheng Jinzhou stood and cupped his hands respectfully. "Teacher, nature calls."
With that, he strode out, leaving behind a fuming, red-faced boy who shouted after him, "I wasn't staring at you!"
The lecturer made no move to stop him, sighing inwardly. The Cheng Family School drew students from noble families across Shaonan City and neighboring prefectures—even newly risen clans sent their lesser sons here. This teaching post wasn't as prestigious as it seemed.
The world of schoolboys remained as turbulent as ever.