Chapter Forty-Eight: The Mischievous Child

A chubby little boy, about ten years old, with a round, rosy face, caught Zi Fan’s eye and made him laugh inwardly. In the army, who would dare look at Zi Fan like that—so defiant, with a hint of scrutiny in his gaze? Even after living two lives, Zi Fan couldn’t decipher what was going on in these children’s minds. What was with that trace of hostility? It was their first meeting, yet these rascals seemed to harbor some animosity. Zi Fan had never met them before!

The classroom was in chaos, with children shouting and tumbling about, completely unruly. Even when Zi Fan, their teacher, arrived, they didn’t bother to rein in their mischief. Facing the provocation in the eyes of these brats, Zi Fan mocked himself inwardly: “I, a dignified general, how could I be intimidated by a few snot-nosed kids?”

He looked closely and saw a group of chubby boys huddled together, whispering conspiratorially. Zi Fan thought, “A few children—if they want to test me, I’ll deal with them as they come.”

Just as that thought passed, the boy who’d been provoking him suddenly collapsed to the ground with a thud. His legs twitched from time to time, his eyes became unfocused, and he even spat out a bit of foam. The other children swarmed around, shouting, “Teacher, teacher! Chub’s fainted! Come quick, save him!”

So, this boy’s name was Chub—how fitting! If not for the suppressed laughter of his companions, Zi Fan might have been fooled by such a convincing performance. He walked over, playing along, took Chub’s pulse, checked his eyelids, then said to the children, “No need to worry, he’ll be up in a moment.”

Zi Fan picked up a writing brush and tickled Chub’s nose with it, grinning at the others. “This is what I call the natural revival method. He’ll be fine in no time. Believe it or not…”

At first, Chub managed to hold out, but the tickling was too much. “Achoo!” He sneezed, then pretended to faint again. Zi Fan patted his cheek. “Still acting? Then your teacher shall continue!”

Chub immediately sprang up from the floor, huffing, “Teacher, you’re cheating! You bullied a child!”

“How could I, Wu Zi Fan, Magistrate of Youzhou, ever stoop to cheating?” Zi Fan replied, feigning indignation.

“You—you say you’re Wu Zi Fan?” Chub drew a sharp breath, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Indeed, that’s who I am—genuine and without pretense,” Zi Fan responded.

“Wow, you really are Wu Zi Fan! Are you our teacher?” Who hadn’t heard of Zi Fan’s valor? Even a child like Chub admired him to the core.

“Teacher, I was wrong!” Chub immediately bowed in apology.

“We didn’t know you were the renowned Magistrate Wu Zi Fan of Youzhou. We were rude just now—please forgive us!” The other mischief-makers, recognizing his fame, followed suit and bowed respectfully.

Zi Fan looked at the group of scamps, both amused and exasperated. “It’s nothing, it’s nothing.” Imitating the demeanor of his own childhood teachers, he replied, “Students, you may rise. I won’t hold it against you.”

In the Han dynasty, respect for teachers and reverence for learning were deeply ingrained. “A teacher for a day, a father for life… In a group of three, there is always something to learn—adopt the good, correct the bad.” Such values permeated every layer of society. As the saying went, “A filial child is raised under the rod.” If a child misbehaved in class, he would surely receive a good spanking at home. Now, their clear eyes shone with excitement.

Zi Fan cleared his throat, glanced at them with a faint smile, and spoke slowly: “Today is my first time teaching you. I’ll start with a story to help everyone relax.”

At the mention of a story, the children’s attention snapped to him, their faces alight with interest. Before he’d even begun, Zi Fan had already captured their curiosity.

The mischievous Chub, moments ago a troublemaker, now sat in rapt anticipation, his large, bright eyes darting beneath thick brows.

“Today’s tale is about a monkey.”

Before Zi Fan’s eyes floated a virtual book, titled “Journey to the West”—all thanks to the system’s aid.

“In the beginning, heaven opened in the first of the twelve earthly branches, earth formed in the second; life began at the convergence of these times, when all was chaos. After five thousand four hundred years, heaven took root; then, after another five thousand four hundred years, heaven opened; and after yet another cycle, the earth finally solidified…”

Zi Fan read a few lines, but something felt off. Glancing at the children’s bewildered faces, he coughed awkwardly. He’d forgotten that these were just children—far too young to grasp such profound philosophy.

“In the ancient world, there were four great continents: the Eastern Continent of Divine Prefecture, the Western Continent of Ox-Headed Land, the Southern Continent of Jambudvipa, and the Northern Continent of Cuddling Reed.” Zi Fan’s words thundered in the children’s minds, though they understood nothing—only that it sounded impressive.

On the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit by the Eastern Sea, at the summit, there stood a magical stone. One day, this stone split open with a deafening roar, and from it emerged a stone monkey, his eyes blazing with golden light.

Zi Fan’s magnetic voice washed over the children, stirring their souls like a pebble cast into a tranquil lake. They were as thrilled as if Columbus had discovered a new continent, their eyes shining with wonder.

This stone monkey was clever and quick-witted. He befriended the other monkeys, found a home for them behind a waterfall, and was honored as the Handsome Monkey King. In his quest for immortality, the Monkey King set out alone, crossing seas and rivers, arriving at a fishing village. There, he found clothes, stole shoes and hats, ate and drank at taverns, causing all sorts of mischief, and slowly picked up human ways. His journey led him to the Spirit Platform on the Mountain of Heart and Mind, where he became a disciple of the Patriarch Bodhi, who named him Sun Wukong. From then on, Wukong meditated and trained, mastering the seventy-two transformations.

He borrowed treasures from the Dragon Palace, raised havoc in the Celestial Court, and stormed the Southern Gate of Heaven…

These vivid tales opened a new world for the children. Other teachers only wielded their rulers with icy severity, making the children too afraid to breathe. But Zi Fan’s storytelling transported them to a realm of gods and monsters, an enchanting and lawless world.

When they heard how Sun Wukong donned shining golden armor, a radiant crown on his head, wielded a mighty staff, and wore cloud-walking boots; how his wild eyes shone like stars and his ears stuck out proudly; how he was clever and boisterous, loud as a bell, and aspired to be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven—but the Jade Emperor made him only a lowly stable master—the children sighed in sympathy.

Immersed in this new world, the children listened with rapt attention, eyes wide, unable to pull themselves away. As the tale reached Sun Wukong’s assault on the Southern Gate and his ascent to the Ninth Heaven, Chub, sitting at the front, flushed bright red, his eyes burning with excitement he had never known before.