Chapter 121: The Honest Lad and the Slave Trade

“Would you be willing to teach here?”

As those words were spoken, a warm summer breeze from the tropical sea drifted gently across Xu Jing’s face, causing her to realize her cheeks were flushed. She suddenly remembered that she had been walking side by side with Xu Wenshan for quite some time, and this was the first moment their eyes truly met.

Xu Wenshan himself didn’t quite understand how inviting someone to become a teacher had turned into something resembling a confession.

The root of it lay in the scarcity of literate people. His hunger for talented individuals had become insatiable.

With brick kilns, irrigation channels, cement factories, distilleries, and schools all launched simultaneously, the challenge of allocating manpower and resources was no less daunting than managing a medium-sized modern enterprise. Yet, only four or five people were in charge of coordinating everything.

Investing in education currently seemed the least profitable, yet it was absolutely essential.

In Xu Wenshan’s eyes, Xu Jing was the best candidate to serve as a teacher here.

“Would you be willing to teach here?”

For a fleeting moment, Xu Jing felt as if she were dreaming.

But she quickly snapped back to reality: stepping back two paces, she shook her head warily and said, “No… I won’t.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not going.”

Xu Jing regained her composure. She knew well enough not to let that sly Xu Wenshan speak—his words always managed to entangle her. She had almost fallen for it again, but thankfully, she had regained clarity in time.

Watching Xu Wenshan’s disheartened figure fade into the distance, Xu Jing quietly exhaled and gently patted her chest.

…

“Ah, wo, e, yi, wu, yu…”

In the candle-lit room during the night, clear, crisp voices echoed.

It was a narrow chamber, with a homemade “blackboard” placed squarely in the center. On it, charcoal had been used to write several Chinese pinyin characters, along with a phrase annotated with pinyin:

“I am from Luhe Valley. I love my village.”

Lu Ze clutched a small booklet, repeatedly chanting the sentence like a spell. Nearby, Lei Laohu and Li Dazhuang swayed precariously, A Fa kept yawning, and Wu Yi was already lost in his thoughts.

Meanwhile, Xu Wenshan crouched on the floor, head in his hands, filled with despair.

He had never expected that Xu Jing would refuse him.

Was it because his training—or rather, transformation—was incomplete? Or had the conditions he offered been too generous, leading her to become dependent, like a parasite living off a wealthy family?

The moment Xu Jing declined, Xu Wenshan thought about going home to have his parents cut off her supplies and livelihood. Yet, after staying at his family’s residence for half a month, she had become the favored daughter-in-law in the eyes of his mother and several aunts. No matter what, they refused to let Xu Wenshan expel her.

So Xu Jing remained living in the Xu residence, enjoying fine food and comfort, while Xu Wenshan was left helpless.

This strange little room was the site of the “Nighttime Literacy Class” personally initiated by Xu Wenshan.

The so-called “Nighttime Literacy Class” was a direct copy of the “night school literacy classes” from the early days of the People’s Republic of China—work during the day, spend two or three hours after dinner learning to read.

Given the severe shortage of human resources, the class currently had very few students: only Lu Ze, A Fa, and three class leaders.

Lu Ze was chosen because among the monsters under his command, Er Gouzi’s intelligence was simply unsuitable for learning anything, the earthworm liquor insects were shamelessly useless, and Saya couldn’t even speak clearly, let alone read. Thus, only Lu Ze was considered a promising candidate.

A Fa needed no introduction—he was already the appointed propaganda minister. The other three class leaders were selected to fulfill Xu Wenshan’s dream of a modernized military: if non-commissioned officers couldn’t even read manuals and regulations, what modern army could they possibly have?

Thus, this semi-mandatory “Nighttime Literacy Class” was established, but the results were predictably dismal. Both teachers and students suffered.

After returning to the village, Xu Wenshan did not reduce his military investments. Training intensity for the three classes increased, and he planned to recruit more people. The three class leaders had heavy training duties during the day, so naturally, they were too exhausted to study at night.

Lu Ze, due to racial reasons (not racial discrimination—no assumptions, please), was inherently less able to absorb human knowledge; it was like asking a dolphin to learn human language. No matter how intelligent, without the brain’s language centers, it was impossible.

Thus, after three days, Lu Ze was still learning pinyin, limited to just six vowels.

This was why Xu Wenshan crouched on the floor in despair.

Yet, despite everything, he forced himself to persevere with the class.

Li Qing and Xiao Cui, both literate, had already been split between him and another, so the burden was heavy. Fortunately, people in this era were mostly frugal and resilient. They barely managed to hold on these past few days, but it was precarious—often, materials arrived but no workers to deliver them, or workers arrived but no materials were ready, causing work efficiency to decline. If this gap couldn’t be filled, the hard-earned prestige Xu Wenshan had built between the two villages would be lost.

According to his initial estimate of Luhe Valley’s population, the literacy rate was no more than three percent. No matter how he looked at it, this rate was shockingly low. Even in the late Qing dynasty, literacy approached twenty percent. It was truly a miracle that the state could function at all with such a low literacy rate.

The low literacy rate was certainly connected to the rampant monsters, but Xu Wenshan believed this was not the main reason.

He had been transported to this world for three years now. Except for Er Gouzi, the monsters he had encountered were mostly harmless. Saya was such a well-behaved monster she would even go to town to buy oil—though she stole the money for it. He could not fathom how they could have such a devastating impact on cultural levels.

Later, Xu Wenshan realized the greatest cause of the low literacy rate might not be the monsters, but the Daoist sects.

Though exalted, the Daoist sects were not unreachable. Immortal fate could be both sought and stumbled upon—the Daoist sects existed, and if one desired immortal fate, one could pursue it.

In this world, the most prestigious figures were not officials, but Daoist priests. Officials bowed in deference to Daoists. The Daoist sects were not entirely cut off from society; they required many materials and herbs, gradually forming an industry around them.

In the past, people took imperial exams; now everyone aspired to cultivate immortality. And the foundation of cultivation was literacy—without the ability to read, one couldn’t even understand the scriptures. Thus, those with the means focused on sending children to the Daoist sects rather than to become officials.

If all those cultivators were counted, the literacy rate in this world should actually be higher. But once these literate individuals became immortals, they ceased laboring or producing and looked down upon mortals.

Even those who failed to ascend to immortality did not return to society but became various kinds of outer disciples of the Daoist sects, serving at the bottom of the Daoist hierarchy and contributing nothing to society.

This was akin to society devoting all its energy to nurturing a grand master while wasting literacy efforts, at least from Xu Wenshan’s perspective.

“Xu Wenshan, Xu Wenshan? Xu Wenshan!”

Xu Wenshan snapped out of his thoughts as Lu Ze called to him.

“I’ve finished reading.”

“Finished?” Xu Wenshan responded weakly. “What time is it? Uh… it’s the hour of the pig.”

The water clock in the room had already stopped dripping, signaling the beginning of the midnight hour. Li Dazhuang said, “Commander, we should head back. There’s a forced march tomorrow.”

Xu Wenshan rubbed his head, stood, and stretched. Suddenly, Lu Ze said, “It’s time.”

“?”

“It’s time to go collect the slaves,” Lu Ze said.

Seeing Xu Wenshan still puzzled, Lu Ze added, “Twenty days ago, you told me to remind you to go to Sha County to collect slaves after twenty days… now exactly twenty days have passed.”

Xu Wenshan suddenly remembered, “Right, isn’t that another way to supplement manpower and literate population?”

He gleefully teased Lu Ze, patting his head, “You troublesome… no, honest kid.”