033 The Mercurial Mr. Sullivan

Another new day dawned. Yang Jie, as disciplined as ever, rose early from bed. He’d spent all of yesterday tying up the loose ends on the southern border, and had enjoyed a peaceful night’s sleep with a clear mind. Now, with nothing pressing at hand, he wandered idly through his territory.

“Good morning, Chief!”
“Hello, Chief!”
“Long time no see, Chief!”

Though it was still early, plenty of farmer mice were already up, busy in the fields. As Yang Jie passed by, they greeted him with eager enthusiasm. He returned their greetings with polite nods. These field mice, accustomed to working the land with strong backs and little talk, wanted to get closer to their chief, but didn’t know quite how to strike up a conversation.

Yang Jie noticed but said nothing—everyone had their role to play, after all, and as chief, he couldn’t afford to be too approachable; some measure of authority was necessary.

Just then, a group of young mice appeared in the distance—seven or eight, walking abreast, short in stature, hurrying along as if late for something.

“Wait for me, Koger!”
“Hurry up, James, or we’ll be late!”

Yang Jie watched them scurry past his feet. Suddenly, he slapped his forehead with a start.

“How could I have forgotten this!”

Realizing his oversight, he followed after the group of youngsters. The newly constructed school had almost slipped his mind.

The school had only just been finished and was still in its trial phase, offering compulsory education so that every household in the town could send their children to attend. Curious to see what kind of lessons the school might offer, Yang Jie decided to tag along, blending in with the tide of young mice heading for class.

The town’s streets were broad—no section narrower than twenty meters, a requirement Yang Jie had insisted on, knowing that as urbanization progressed, the population would swell and proper planning would be crucial.

After jogging for three minutes along the wide, mud-brick-paved roads, the school came into view—a humble structure of mud bricks and wooden planks.

Without pausing, he followed the young mice up to the building.

Rather than enter the classroom directly, Yang Jie chose an inconspicuous spot outside, standing like a vigilant dean, observing in secret.

Inside, the dimly lit classroom had no blackboard, no desks or chairs—only a filthy floor made of packed mud and clay. The space, no more than two hundred square meters, was packed with at least five hundred young mice. One could imagine the chaos of a primary school during recess, and, combined with the cramped conditions here, the scene practically painted itself.

Yang Jie peered in through the window at the dense swarm of chattering mice. A wave of claustrophobia washed over him. The reproductive rate among the mice-folk was high; a family with only seven or eight children was considered small.

The adults were too busy to mind the children, who were left to their own devices or placed in the care of older siblings. If there were no older siblings, one simply found another family’s child to help. And if someone was bullied?

Bullied? Impossible! They were all having a fine time—look, even that child from the Smith family is crying with joy.

“Quiet! Settle down!”

Teacher Sullivan strode in from the doorway, her voice booming over the din, louder than any market square. Instantly, the room fell silent. The young mice feared Sullivan; just the day before, she’d spent the entire day wielding a stick to discipline them.

With yesterday’s lesson fresh in their minds, the mischievous children dared not act up again, closing their mouths and quieting down at once. Scanning her domain, Sullivan allowed herself the faintest smile.

“Ahem...” Clearing her throat, she began, “Yesterday, we were discussing the characteristics of our mousefolk as a race…”

At that moment, another commotion erupted in a corner of the room.

“What is it now? If you don’t want to attend class, get out!” Sullivan bellowed, her voice so loud that even Yang Jie, standing outside, flinched. The roar brought back painful memories of his own school days.

He gave himself a quick slap—what was he thinking? He was the chief of the Andes micefolk now.

In the rowdy corner, the other children quickly scattered, distancing themselves from the commotion. A young female mouse stood there, looking utterly miserable, her even younger brother clinging to her back, lashed to her with leaves and hemp rope.

“Teacher Sullivan, my brother wet himself again—my whole back is soaked,” she wailed, breaking down into sobs. She was just a child herself, needing care and comfort, already burdened with far more than she could bear.

Laughter erupted throughout the classroom.

“Ha ha ha…”
“Look, little Tom did it again…”
“Ha! Two weeks now and he’s still peeing on his sister!”

The room buzzed with mirth. At the front, Sullivan’s chest heaved with suppressed frustration. Her lessons repeatedly interrupted, even the most devoted teacher would be infuriated.

Yang Jie expected a scolding as Sullivan cleared a path with her stick and strode to the corner. But what happened next surprised him.

She knelt down and gently drew the sobbing sister into her arms. With patience and tenderness, Sullivan soothed the young mouse, who soon stopped crying. Efficiently, she untied the hemp rope, lifted the little brother from the girl’s back, and used her own water to clean the soiled fur.

Sullivan’s heart ached as she saw the red marks left by the rope, but her face betrayed nothing. The classroom fell silent, the troublemakers dumbstruck—was this really the Sullivan they knew?

Once she’d finished cleaning the siblings, Sullivan seized her stick and walked over to a chubby mouse with oversized ears.

Without a word, she grabbed his ear.

“Ow! Ow! Teacher, let go!”

The fat mouse squealed in pain.

“Gray Lee! Do you know why you’re being punished?” Sullivan fixed him with a stern glare.

“I’m innocent, Teacher! I swear I don’t know! Please, let go—my ears are big enough already…”

“If you don’t know, let me explain. You’re the oldest student in this class. When your classmate needed help, you led the others in making fun of her. Tell me, do you deserve to be punished?”

Yang Jie recognized the chubby Gray Lee—he was Old Sha’s only son, with six younger sisters.

“I’m sorry, Teacher! I won’t do it again!” Gray Lee sniffled, tears welling up.

“Bend over!” Sullivan barked, unmoved.

Gray Lee shuddered and instinctively stuck out his rear.

Smack!

The stick whipped down, cracking across Gray Lee’s backside. The room, quiet for a moment, exploded in laughter again.

Sullivan didn’t stop them this time. She returned to the front, then suddenly spun around, brandishing her stick.

“I’ll say this only once more!” she roared. “From now on, there is to be no relieving yourselves in my classroom. If you can’t hold it, go out the door and turn right. If I catch anyone again, you’ll never be allowed in my class!”

She swung the stick through the air with a whoosh, her fierce expression silencing the room.

“Now, let’s begin the lesson!”