Reading Isn't That Great Either

The autumn day carried a breeze, and dressing appropriately might make it feel pleasant.

Lin Luoyu wore thin clothes, and as the wind blew, she felt a chill creeping over her. She rummaged for another similarly worn and thin undershirt to layer on.

This undershirt was a little small, fitting snugly, but at least it provided warmth.

Lin Luoyu shifted slightly—perhaps because she was thin, the tightness of the garment didn’t bother her too much.

Or maybe life had already tightened its grip on her even harder.

But today, life granted Lin Luoyu a brief respite.

Yesterday, she had caught five fish. She gave two to Li Junzi and one to an auntie who occasionally looked out for her.

That night, when hunger gnawed at her stomach, she ate one.

Now, she had a small portion of rice grains left and one remaining fish. Since fish couldn’t be kept for long, Lin Luoyu decided to cook it today.

With practiced ease, she lit a fire, scaled the fish, and examined its innards… After a moment’s thought, she decided to stew the whole thing.

Right now, she couldn’t afford to consider whether it would taste good—only whether it would fill her up.

To make the meal more substantial, she tossed in some wilted wild vegetables she had been saving.

As for other seasonings, those were beyond Lin Luoyu’s means.

“Hmm…”

A faint smile crossed her face as she stretched her hands toward the warmth of the fire.

The cozy little flames, the fish soon to be ready—it was a simple comfort.

She watched as the water began to boil, the fish flesh gradually turning pale.

The aroma of the fish rose from the pot.

If one didn’t ask for much, happiness could be this simple.

Suddenly, Li Junzi’s voice called from outside.

“Is this Lin Luoyu’s home?”

Lin Luoyu stood up swiftly. They had exchanged names the night before during a brief roadside chat, but she hadn’t expected Li Junzi to seek her out today.

In hindsight, Lin Luoyu felt she hadn’t behaved well. Li Junzi had been kind, yet she had spoken thoughtlessly.

Gifting her two fish had been Lin Luoyu’s way of an unspoken apology.

But she was too embarrassed to voice her feelings.

Maybe Li Junzi didn’t even care about her at all?

She opened the door to find Li Junzi still wearing that gentle smile.

Lin Luoyu lingered behind the doorframe and asked softly, “Is something the matter?”

“Yes, I’m still unfamiliar with this place. I was hoping you could show me around.” Li Junzi nodded lightly, then reached to her waist and pulled out a few copper coins, offering them to Lin Luoyu.

“Consider this payment for your trouble.”

Lin Luoyu didn’t take the coins. Instead, she pushed the door wider.

“The village isn’t big, so it’s not worth that much. But you’ll have to wait—the fish I’m cooking is almost done.”

Li Junzi gave a small nod, tucking the coins away before stepping into the worn mud-brick house.

Her gaze swept over the bare interior.

There wasn’t even a stool—just a wooden plank bed.

A pitch-black earthen pot hung over the fire, the water inside boiling, pale fish flesh and wilted greens swirling together.

Lin Luoyu walked to the bed and retrieved a large bowl hidden in the straw.

She tilted her head slightly to look at Li Junzi. “It’s just ready. Would you like some?”

Li Junzi hesitated briefly, but after meeting Lin Luoyu’s eyes, she nodded gently.

“Alright. Thank you.”

Lin Luoyu didn’t reply. She simply pressed the bowl into Li Junzi’s hands, then moved to the pot to extinguish the fire.

She splashed some water along the pot’s edge, waited for it to cool slightly, then carefully lifted it and poured the fish and greens into the bowl.

“Be careful—it’s hot.”

After the warning, Lin Luoyu blew on the broth in the large earthen pot before taking a cautious sip.

Warmth slid down her throat, and she closed her eyes slightly in contentment.

Li Junzi lifted the bowl, and the pungent smell of fish hit her nose.

She glanced again at Lin Luoyu, who seemed to be savoring a delicacy, then took a small sip of the broth.

As expected—it was unbearably fishy.

To this day, Li Junzi couldn’t recall how she managed to finish that bowl of fish and broth.

All she knew was that for a long time afterward, she never dared to let Lin Luoyu cook fish for her again.

Lin Family Gully truly wasn’t large. Lin Luoyu led Li Junzi around as if recounting family treasures.

She pointed out the best spots for fishing, where to catch shrimp, and where to forage for wild greens.

Though much of this knowledge was useless to her, Li Junzi still asked questions with feigned curiosity.

Like which wild vegetables were edible, or how exactly one caught fish.

Lin Luoyu patiently explained in detail.

Along the way, they encountered the group of rowdy children who usually acted like bullies. But with Li Junzi by her side, the children only watched from a distance, not even uttering a word.

Since Lin Family Gully was too small for a market, buying and selling required a trip to a slightly farther town.

Lin Luoyu merely gestured in its general direction.

After completing the tour, Li Junzi once again took out the copper coins, intending to hand them over as payment.

Lin Luoyu refused, saying simply—

“I didn’t guide you for the coins.”

So Li Junzi still didn’t manage to give them away. But deep down, she felt a quiet happiness.

Isn't this just a sensitive little girl's way of affirming herself?

Two days later.

Li Junzi called Lin Luoyu over, and together they went to the foot of the nearest low hill near Lin Family Gully.

On a flat patch of land, Li Junzi told Lin Luoyu that she wanted to build a house here and hoped Lin Luoyu could help—of course, meals would be provided.

Perhaps the promise of food was too tempting, or perhaps Li Junzi’s smile that day was too gentle.

Lin Luoyu didn’t hesitate much before agreeing.

Only after hearing her acceptance did Li Junzi pull out a pair of simple-looking shoes from behind her.

She smiled and waved the shoes in front of Lin Luoyu, saying,

"This work isn’t easy—you can’t do it barefoot. I want to move into this house as soon as possible."

This time, Lin Luoyu didn’t refuse. The child’s feet, though young, were far from delicate as she slipped into shoes she hadn’t worn in a long time.

Naturally, building the house couldn’t be done by just Lin Luoyu and Li Junzi alone.

Soon, craftsmen were hired by Li Junzi.

Lin Family Gully became unusually lively, and among the crowd, Lin Luoyu was the most inconspicuous—perhaps because she was also the smallest.

She couldn’t handle heavy labor, but she still threw herself into whatever tasks she could manage.

Whether it was carrying things or running back and forth with messages, Lin Luoyu did everything with dedication.

She even shared her ideas for the courtyard’s design, describing the best yard she had ever dreamed of.

"If it were up to me, I’d build a chicken coop over there. Then we could have eggs and chicken to eat."

And so, a chicken coop was added to the design.

"I wonder if vegetables could grow here. It’d be great if there was land behind the house for planting."

And so, a small vegetable plot appeared behind the house.

Lin Luoyu didn’t have many suggestions—likely because she hadn’t seen much of the world.

But every idea she proposed was accepted by Li Junzi, who even wore an expression of having learned something new.

Bit by bit, the courtyard of Lin Luoyu’s dreams took shape before her eyes.

Perhaps her dream had been too modest, because the yard was completed in just over a month.

Standing in the courtyard, Lin Luoyu gazed around with delight, her steps light as she took in the sight of the yard she had already examined countless times.

She remembered every detail, yet she still couldn’t tear her eyes away.

"It’s wonderful," Lin Luoyu said sincerely.

Li Junzi nodded in agreement. "It truly is."

Lin Luoyu turned to look at Li Junzi, her face brimming with genuine happiness.

"I’m so envious you have a yard like this."

Li Junzi chuckled and asked, "Then would you like to come live here?"

Lin Luoyu pressed her lips together, then shook her head lightly. Just as she was about to speak, Li Junzi interrupted her—the first time she had ever cut someone off since growing up.

With a gentle smile, she said,

"I don’t know how to grow vegetables or raise chickens. Could you help me?"

Lin Luoyu didn’t react with joy. Instead, she lowered her head and admitted honestly,

"Actually, I don’t know how either. I’ve never owned land in the village, and I couldn’t afford chickens… You should find someone who knows."

"Then let’s learn together," Li Junzi said, reaching out for the first time to pat Lin Luoyu’s head. "If the chickens die or the vegetables won’t grow, you’re not allowed to laugh at me."

Lin Luoyu couldn’t quite describe how she felt at that moment. She only knew she somehow agreed without thinking.

Maybe it was because she truly loved this yard. Or maybe it was because she truly loved Li Junzi.

And so, the yard gained more life—a few roosters and hens, vegetables in the backyard.

Lin Luoyu was always worried the chickens would die or the vegetables would wither, so she made extra rounds whenever she had time.

She now lived in a house that didn’t leak wind and experienced the warmth of lamplight at night.

When night fell, she no longer curled up alone on a wooden plank bed.

Instead, she had a warm mattress and blankets.

Li Junzi slept on another bed not far away.

Lin Luoyu had observed her carefully—her sleeping posture was impeccable, hands resting on her stomach, seemingly unmoving the entire night.

Li Junzi was different from the other adults in the village. She didn’t farm or do anything to earn money.

Most of the time, she sat at a table, seemingly rereading the same book over and over.

Wasn’t this just idling away without a care?

So Lin Luoyu worked even harder at raising chickens and tending the garden—now she had to support Li Junzi, who did nothing but read.

In the past, Lin Luoyu had tried growing wild vegetables, but they were always stolen.

So she had given up.

But no one would steal from the garden here, so she eagerly cleared another plot of land.

Li Junzi wasn’t entirely idle either—she helped too, though as she had admitted herself,

Lin Luoyu would say she was a bit clumsy.

Half a month passed in this peaceful manner.

Then came heavy rain. Lin Luoyu glanced worriedly at the heavily fortified chicken coop, still afraid the birds would get soaked and fall ill.

Li Junzi sat by the window in a chair, flipping through her book.

Perhaps out of boredom, Lin Luoyu asked curiously, "Is the book interesting?"

"Of course it is," Li Junzi turned to her, eyes bright. "Books contain whole other worlds."

Lin Luoyu frowned skeptically. "Other worlds? Really?"

Li Junzi smiled and nodded, saying, "Of course it’s impressive. Don’t you see how all the officials know how to read?"

Lin Luoyu wanted to say something, but in the end, she only gave a faint nod.

"Do you want to learn to read?" Li Junzi asked.

Lin Luoyu fiddled with the cuff of her sleeve. "I don’t know any characters..."

"I’ll teach you."

"But I’m slow..."

"Where are you slow? You can raise chickens I couldn’t keep alive. Doesn’t that make you smarter than me?"

Lin Luoyu looked up at Li Junzi, whose face still wore that familiar smile.

Truthfully, Lin Luoyu was also curious about what words were, and why Li Junzi was always so eager to bury herself in books.

She nodded. "Then I’ll learn..."

Li Junzi’s smile deepened. She set down the book in her hands and walked over to Lin Luoyu.

"If you want to learn, you’ll have to call me 'Teacher' from now on, not 'Sister' anymore."

"Teacher?" Lin Luoyu was puzzled.

"Mm. And before you learn characters, you must first learn the rites of a formal apprenticeship."

"It’s that complicated?"

"Of course. It’s like stepping into another world. Surely the clever Lin Luoyu isn’t afraid?"

"I’m not afraid! I’ll learn."

Li Junzi chuckled softly and nodded.

The apprenticeship rites weren’t difficult—just a cup of tea and a set of gestures.

Learning characters wasn’t hard either—just strokes on a page and a bit of effort.

Calling someone "Teacher" was the easiest of all—just two words.

But Li Junzi changed when it came to teaching.

She became strict, almost stern, and rarely smiled anymore.

Yet perhaps Lin Luoyu truly was clever, because her progress was remarkable.

Li Junzi praised her often, and to celebrate, she would occasionally slaughter a chicken for a feast.

Lin Luoyu’s heart ached at the waste, but she still enjoyed the meals.

After mastering the basics, they gradually delved deeper.

Lin Luoyu spent less time working and more time reading.

Li Junzi, on the other hand, read less and worked more.

After finishing each book, Li Junzi would ask Lin Luoyu to summarize and reflect on it.

"Reading isn’t the same as just looking at words," Li Junzi said. "Only when you truly absorb them do they become yours."

Truth be told, reading was more exhausting than labor.

But Lin Luoyu noticed that whenever she studied hard and did well,

Li Junzi’s smile and pride would shine through, impossible to hide.

So Lin Luoyu threw herself into her studies with even greater fervor.

When they exhausted Li Junzi’s personal collection, she began buying books from town. As the volumes piled up, she bought a bookshelf.

As the shelves gradually filled,

Lin Luoyu grew taller, and she began to understand what Li Junzi meant about books containing another world.

Though she had never left home, through books, she glimpsed the splendor of the world.

She witnessed the magnificent, envy-worthy lives of others.

Lin Luoyu, too, grew reluctant to part with books.

But life is not all joy—especially after too much joy.

Li Junzi’s sacrifices were not limited to what Lin Luoyu could see.

"Senior Sister, tracking you down was no easy task."

"Why look for me? Haven’t I been sending letters?"

"Are you joking, Senior Sister? You’re one step away from becoming a Great Scholar! Gentleman Mountain has opened its gates to a woman for the first time!"

"I know. But what of it?"

"Do you truly understand what you’re doing? Abandoning twenty years of study for some mortal girl? There are countless pitiful girls in this world—you can save only one here, but as a Great Scholar, you could save many more!"

"Junior Brother, do you know why our master always said you lacked insight?"

"Does Senior Sister have some wisdom to impart?"

"Reading, living, acting—none should be done halfway. It’s the same with my studies, and the same with her."

A cold snort. Stung, the man’s icy voice spat, "I’ll relay that to the master. But I’m sure you know his temper."

Then he turned and left.

That night, curled in her warm quilt, Lin Luoyu felt as if she were back on the wooden plank bed of her old home.

At that moment, she thought:

Maybe reading wasn’t so wonderful after all.