Student and Teacher

“So, in the end, Lord Barlis not only exempted your family from the summer labor, lent you three plow oxen, but also rewarded you with an entire sack of bread? A whole sack of real bread?”
Beside the stream near the church, the future priest, young Andre, gaped in astonishment, his eyes round as saucers, completely unaware that the earthen jar he held was spilling water into the stream.
Because he was too young and the night roads were difficult, the previous evening, when the priest and the agricultural officer set out at midnight to watch Wu Qingchen treat the oxen, young Andre was not brought along.
After the agricultural officer’s party left, the vast church was left with only Andre. Helpless, he climbed into bed but could not sleep for a long time, worrying whether his careless mention of “treating the oxen” had brought trouble to his hard-won friend.
At dawn, just before morning prayers, Andre was preparing to go out to replace the holy water, as was his daily routine, when he happened upon Wu Qingchen, who had come to the church for prayer.
For some reason, the priest did not leave his bedroom early as usual that day. Without the priest’s stern gaze, Andre quickly pulled Wu Qingchen toward the stream, peppering him with questions about what happened after that night.
Learning that Wu Qingchen’s family’s oxen had recovered greatly, that the treatment of another injured ox before the priest and the agricultural officer had gone smoothly, and that they had received generous rewards, Andre breathed a sigh of relief.
Naturally, envy of the rewards followed, and, with the exuberance of youth, Andre eagerly recounted the discussions between the agricultural officer and priest, and their eventual decision to visit Wu Qingchen’s family.
Of course, what had originally been an impulsive interruption during the negotiations, when retold by Andre, became an act of thoughtful concern for his friend—a carefully crafted opportunity, hard-won after persistent efforts.
“This… this… Andre, my friend… thank you so much…”
—So, it seems, whether in the world of Earth or the medieval world, whether modern bureaucrats or local children, seizing opportunities for a little benefit is an innate skill.
Grasping Andre’s arm, Wu Qingchen’s hands trembled slightly, his lips quivered, full of gratitude, barely holding back tears: “…By the way, Andre, yesterday, the sack Lord Barlis gave us, inside, there were white, soft, sliced things—are those the real bread?”
“It’s called bread! You fool!” Andre licked his lips.
“…From the name, it sounds edible, but… how do you eat it? I don’t know… Maybe… maybe this afternoon I’ll bring two slices, and… you can teach me how. Is that okay?”
“Okay!” Andre replied loudly, then hesitated a little, “But… you must come secretly, don’t let the priest see, because… because… because…”
“Because—” He paused, then suddenly Andre’s eyes lit up. “Because… the priest doesn’t like bread!”
“…Absolutely! Absolutely! Thank you… thank you so much…”
Wu Qingchen’s hands trembled even more, his lips quivered fiercely.
—You little rascal…
Having to trick children in front of seventy billion people, and then be tricked by children in front of seventy billion people, Wu Qingchen could imagine what his image would become.
Andre’s interruption was indeed unexpected, but without Andre’s careless remark, there would have been Wu Qingchen’s own slip, the cow’s accidental exposure, the priest’s unwitting discovery, the agricultural officer’s unintended hearing, and dozens of other “inadvertent” possibilities.
In short, according to the analysis team’s detailed simulations and dozens of plans from the advisory group, Wu Qingchen was quite certain that the priest and agricultural officer seeking him out to treat the oxen was a one hundred percent inevitable event.
Nevertheless, the conversation with Andre was not without benefit. Besides further reducing the risk of the bread spoiling, the exchange revealed the initial discussions between the agricultural officer and priest, highlighting the conflict of interests between the secular and the religious. Wu Qingchen gained a deeper understanding of what the training team often stressed during religious instruction: “Religion often signifies order and rules.”
He also realized more profoundly the role that religion, rooted directly among the farmers and aligned with their interests, played in stabilizing the social environment, as described by the advisory group.
“By the way…” Holding the jar now almost half emptied into the stream, Andre tilted his head, “So, Los, you’ll be treating the village’s oxen for the next few days… When do you plan to start?”
“When to start?” Wu Qingchen smiled, “It’s already begun!”
“Already begun? What do you mean?” Andre frowned.
“What I mean is…” Wu Qingchen pointed to the church entrance, where two small wooden bowls sat beside the stone wall, “I’ve already treated three oxen!”
“So quickly?”
“Well, not exactly quick. After all, treating injuries isn’t a one-time affair…” Wu Qingchen shook his head, “And… the three oxen I treated didn’t require a long journey… they’re all very close to my home…”
“Even so, that’s awfully fast. Did you get up very early?”
“Just a little earlier…”
“Did you rise before daybreak?”
“A bit earlier still…”
A bit earlier meant…
Last night, before bed, old William stood hesitantly by Wu Qingchen’s bedside, subtly probing whether different arrangements or herbs or methods were needed for treating the oxen.
Upon learning that any bleeding oxen could be treated similarly, old William finally stammered out his request: could Wu Qingchen consider prioritizing his three old friends?
These three old friends, naturally, were William’s closest neighbors, heads of their respective families: Richard, Freeman, and old Holt.
Unfortunately, all three families’ oxen suffered injuries in the previous day’s accident. Without intervention, natural recovery would take at least ten days, a hardship for their livelihoods.
This was Wu Qingchen’s original intention, so he had no reason to refuse.
With Wu Qingchen’s repeated assurances, old William finally breathed a long sigh of relief, and in the dead of night hurried to his neighbors.
Soon, Richard, Freeman, and old Holt, nearly twenty people in all, came to Wu Qingchen’s home, saw the recovery of his own oxen, learned of the recognition from the agricultural officer and priest, and unsurprisingly, their gazes toward Wu Qingchen were fervent, their pleas earnest.
Thus, at an hour “earlier than before daybreak”—meaning, just after lying down only to get up immediately—Wu Qingchen had to rush through the night to these three homes to administer the first treatment to their unfortunate but now fortunate oxen.
Armed with techniques far surpassing anything in the medieval world, backed by hand-in-hand training from dozens of top veterinarians and two hundred sacrificial oxen from Earth, it was no wonder that, as with the previous treatments, Wu Qingchen’s aid to William’s friends’ oxen went equally smoothly.
He harvested countless thanks—or rather, endless tears and snot. Deep into the night, sticky and drenched, Wu Qingchen scrubbed himself clean before finally crawling back into bed.
“This really is…” After hearing Wu Qingchen’s account, Andre’s mouth hung open again, his eyes wide, “This really is… really… exhausting.”
“All right…”

By now the two had returned to the church, placing the filled jar beside the altar. Wu Qingchen glanced at the sundial by the side door, nudging the future priest: “Andre, morning prayers are about to begin. Perhaps you should check the adjoining room.”
“Hmm…” Andre glanced at the sundial, hesitated, then nodded, “I’ll go have a look.”
—
Church, bedroom.
Through the crack in the wooden door, morning sunlight crept into the room, slanting across the soft rushes that formed the bed, where the priest Playa lay stretched out, eyes closed, still dreaming, a gentle smile on his face, lost in some pleasant vision.
“Knock… knock… knock… Priest… teacher…”
Whether it was the habitual biological clock or the knocking on the door, his eyelids fluttered for a few seconds before Playa slowly opened his eyes.
The few moments of waking confusion quickly passed. Suddenly, as if remembering something, Playa sprang from the bed and dashed to the stone table on the left side of the room.
He didn’t bother to rub his dry eyes, instead peering closely at the table.
Upon it lay a blackened wooden stick, a small dish of dried ink, a parchment crowded with scribbles and crude drawings, several grass stalks, leaves, thorns, and a stone—utterly ordinary, but, like the others, secretly brought from Wu Qingchen’s home.
“Fifty-three: Students and Teachers (Part Two)”
It was clear that last night, hiding grass stalks, leaves, stones—and even thorns—in his robes, while continuing to placate the overexcited agricultural officer who couldn’t bear to leave the church, Priest Playa had quite the ordeal.
Likewise, using the thin stick, a little scraper, and ink that needed constant remaking, he covered a whole parchment with material that would typically take two or three days to write; in that single night, he likely had little time for sleep.
Yet, at this moment, Playa’s expression was far from “tired” or “weary.” Holding the messy, crudely illustrated parchment, the priest could not suppress his smile.
This was the method for treating oxen!
This was the proven, effective method for treating oxen!
This was the method that could add extra security for the family’s oxen!
This was the method that could strengthen his position within the family!
Unable to resist imagining further, Playa’s smile grew broader, when another knock sounded outside the door.
“Knock… knock… knock… Priest… teacher…”
“Is that you, Andre? What is it?”
“Teacher, morning prayers are soon.”
“I know… Go prepare. I’ll come shortly.”
“Yes, teacher.”
Footsteps faded away. Composing himself, Playa opened the wooden cabinet, stored away the stick, scraper, and ink, carefully wrapped up the overnight parchment, and took out a sack to gather the grass stalks, leaves, thorns, and stone from the table.
Only then did Playa finally open the door.
Entering the church, Playa looked around: the altar and floor were cleaned, the holy water refreshed, and, on the left, young Los and Andre were lifting a chair together to straighten it.
“All right, put it down now…”
Ascending the pulpit, Playa gestured for them to set the chair down, “Time is nearly up; let’s begin morning prayers.”
“Priest…” Wu Qingchen looked up.
“What is it, Los?”
“It’s this…” Wu Qingchen pulled out two silver coins found in the bread sack, “I found these in the bread sack. I’m not sure what to do with them…”
“Silver coins?” Playa took them, glanced, and placed them on the pulpit. “They must be the agricultural officer’s coins. Leave them here; Lord Barlis will likely come today, and I’ll hand them over then…”
“Hand over what?”
Before Playa finished, the church dimmed slightly as the agricultural officer, followed by three attendants, appeared at the door.
“Good day, Lord Barlis…” Playa nodded, “You’ve come at just the right time. Come, take a look… Are these your coins?”
“Hm…” Approaching the pulpit, Barlis took the coins, instinctively checked his robe pocket, and soon showed surprise: “Yes, these are mine. What happened? Did I forget them at the church yesterday?”
“No, you generously gave them to my student, along with two days’ worth of food.”
“Oh, I left them in the bread sack? Did Los find them? And brought them over early this morning?” Seeing Playa nod repeatedly, Barlis turned to Wu Qingchen with a smile, “So… besides being clever, Los, you’re also honest.”
“They belong to you, sir.” Wu Qingchen bowed quickly.
“Ah… also modest…” Clearly, compared to the previous day, the agricultural officer was in much better spirits.
“All right, Lord Barlis, please pause your praise for now; morning prayers are about to begin. Perhaps you’d like to find a seat.”
“Of course, Priest Playa.”
Thus, the church’s rows of seats finally had their moment, welcoming rare listeners who could sit during prayers.
Clearly, these listeners were quite familiar with the prayer process.
Seated, Barlis placed his right hand on his shoulder. As Andre gently struck the small bell, the agricultural officer gracefully performed the holy ritual, then folded his hands and bowed his head. Throughout the ten-minute morning prayer, he remained solemn and silent.
Prayer finished, Playa began teaching the day’s lesson. Barlis, though still and quiet, gradually showed a doubtful expression as the lesson progressed, and toward the end even uttered a surprised “Hm?”

“What is it, Lord Barlis…”
“Forgive me for interrupting…” Barlis bowed his head in apology. “Please, continue.”
“No matter, speak your mind.”
“It’s just…” Barlis frowned. “If I heard correctly, you seem to be teaching your students how to add numbers?”
“Of course—you’re the agricultural officer, it’s your specialty.”
“If I recall correctly, Andre and Los are both only thirteen or fourteen?”
“That’s right.”
“In that case… such a young age, learning such difficult content… isn’t it… isn’t it… perhaps… perhaps too… too… too…”
“Too much, perhaps?”
“No, perhaps too early.” Barlis shook his head, choosing a milder phrasing.
“Too early…” Playa smiled wryly, fully aware of Barlis’s thoughts.
At first, discovering that Los and Andre mastered counting from one to fifty in ten days, and then to a hundred in just five, Playa had worn the same expression as Barlis for half a month’s lessons.
It truly was astonishing speed.
After all, medieval education was extremely backward—there was no concept of “educational methods.” Knowledge passed through apprenticeship; a priest might teach only one or two students in a lifetime, with no accumulated experience or method, relying purely on intuition and distant memories of their own learning.
Imagine, even on Earth, if a brand-new student were placed in a setting with no school, no classroom, no classmates, no textbooks, no homework, surrounded only by complete illiterates, with the sole knowledge source a semi-literate, utterly inexperienced teacher, who taught ten minutes a day—if such a student could master counting to a hundred in five days, anyone would sincerely call them a genius.
But, thanks to the teacher’s lack of experience or training, Playa, while amazed by Los and Andre’s speed, had no real basis for comparison, and his own memories of learning were too far gone to be shocked.
In any case, learning fast is never a bad thing.
“Whether it’s too early…” While recalling, Playa beckoned Los and Andre to stand before the agricultural officer. “Lord Barlis, perhaps you should ask them yourself.”
“Oh?” Barlis turned to the two students, and began his questioning: “There are fifteen chairs on the left and thirteen on the right. How many in total?”
“Fifteen… thirteen… fifteen… thirteen…” Andre looked up at the ceiling, muttering, and after a while answered, “Twenty-eight, there are twenty-eight chairs in all.”
“Twenty-one on the left, fifteen on the right?”
“…Thirty-six.”
“Twenty-seven left, nineteen right?”
“Thir… thir… thirty-six?”
“Ha…” Barlis laughed.
Playa’s expression was slightly embarrassed, “They’ve only studied five or six days.”
“Not bad, really not bad.” Barlis nodded, turning to Wu Qingchen, “Twenty-seven left, nineteen right.”
“Forty-six.”
“Fifteen left, sixteen right.”
“Thirty-one.”
“Thirty-seven left, forty-five right.”
“Eighty-four.”
“Such quick, accurate answers… Hm? Then, perhaps, Los, you could…”
Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, Barlis’s eyes brightened and he turned swiftly to the priest, “Then, your student could perhaps…”
“Indeed…” The priest nodded, “But, it’s only ‘perhaps’—just knowing numbers is not enough…”
“I understand…” The agricultural officer nodded, then asked Wu Qingchen, “Los, last night I saw your family had a cow and two goats. Do you usually tend them?”
“Yes, before my father let me work the fields, I often took them out to graze.”
“Are they obedient?”
“Quite obedient.”
“Is it hard to care for the livestock?”
“Not at all.”
“Where do you usually take them?”
Compared to the arithmetic questions, Barlis’s tone was much more serious, his demeanor unconsciously several times more focused.