Chapter 17: I Dislike Taking the Back Door

“Your grip on the pen is all wrong; you’re holding it like a knife. If you knew, you’d realize you’re supposed to be writing, not stabbing. If you didn’t, you’d think you were about to attack someone.”

“Be gentler! If you keep wielding that pen like a knife, you’ll scratch the desk to pieces.”

“No, that’s wrong. The character ‘Kang’ has ‘water’ underneath, not the small ‘xiao.’”

“A dot, a press down—that’s a press down, not a horizontal stroke.”

“After the new school term starts, you’ll be in first grade, yet you can’t even write your dad’s name properly.”

“You’re not only an ugly girl, but also a foolish one.”

…

Time flies, and it is now 1993. At this moment, Liu Jing is tutoring Xixi.

Today is the Dragon Boat Festival. Grandfather has gone for a stroll, while Grandma, Sister Li, and Auntie are busy making zongzi.

As for Teacher An, unfailingly, he sits on the sofa holding a newspaper.

Liu Jing has been training in martial arts at Yandu for a year. When it came time to pay for the second year’s tuition, the training class refused to accept it.

They claimed there was nothing more to teach.

In reality, Liu Jing had, under the pretext of sparring, beaten several students multiple times. A few apprentices, unable to endure the repeated challenges, quit the class outright.

Fearing a loss of students if the conflicts persisted, the training school decided to let him graduate early.

During this year and more of martial arts practice, Liu Jing also had other duties.

He made a monthly visit to the "Three Kingdoms" drama crew and occasionally accompanied his aunt or Sister Li to visit Zhang Min’s set—all to help temper his exuberant energy.

Now, his entertainment energy has surged again, reaching 19,718 points. If he hadn’t been using some daily, it would have surpassed 20,000 by far.

The film "Martial Champion Beggar Su Qi’er" earned 38 million Hong Kong dollars at the box office, bringing Liu Jing over a thousand points of entertainment energy.

Auntie Liu’s affairs were even more numerous: training with the "Three Kingdoms" crew, rehearsing "Chu Melody" at the Jiangcheng Song and Dance Theater, and frequent regional performances.

Auntie was even busier, with her business in the United States just starting up; she had returned home less often over the past year.

Two days ago, the scenes for young Liu Chan were completed, and Sun Shangxiang’s parts were nearly finished.

In the future, if Liu Jing wanted to linger at the "Three Kingdoms" crew often, Auntie Liu might not accompany him anymore.

All the parents agreed: children shouldn’t spend extended periods in drama crews; it’s detrimental to their growth.

Having left the training class prematurely, Xixi smoothly graduated from kindergarten.

The little girl was deeply spurred by Liu Jing’s teasing; she didn’t clamour for play during the summer but quietly prepared for first grade at home.

Over the past year, Liu Jing had self-studied the entire elementary curriculum and even covered much of the junior high syllabus.

Unfortunately, his eidetic memory helped him memorize but couldn’t aid his comprehension of theorems, axioms, word problems, and various formulas.

Liu Jing struggled significantly with some junior high subjects.

He wondered: why study about a pool that fills and drains at the same time? Who would waste time on such nonsense?

He couldn’t fathom the point of calculating when two objects moving at different speeds would meet or overtake each other. What use was that? Could it make a bicycle?

He was even more baffled by problems asking for the area of shaded parts of various shapes—who could accurately measure those shadows?

Splashing water…

He was grumbling about the current education system when the little girl lost patience.

Xixi threw her pen on the ground and shouted angrily, “Dad, I don’t want a wooden teacher. I want you to teach me!”

Teacher An had always been strict with the children; Xixi feared her father deeply.

But even more crushing than fear was his biting tongue.

She couldn’t beat him physically, nor could she win an argument.

Xixi wished she could slap herself twice—she used to be bored, eagerly awaiting this guy’s return.

Waiting and wishing, he really did come back.

“What’s wrong?” Teacher An spoke gently, as if he hadn’t heard Liu Jing’s sharp words.

“He… he keeps putting me down, and you don’t do anything about it!” Xixi stomped her foot. Suddenly noticing her younger brother at home, she realized her good days might be over.

“Liu Jing, your sister isn’t as smart as you; she’s a bit slow. You should be gentler with her and more patient,” Teacher An said patiently.

Xixi’s face darkened. Her dad’s words weren’t just sharp—they hurt even more than his tongue.

“I’m done studying.” Xixi slammed her book shut and said, “Mom, I want to make zongzi too.”

Teacher An looked puzzled and asked Liu Jing, “What’s wrong with her? You’re teaching her, and she’s learning, aren’t you?”

“Women, no matter how old, are always so unreasonable,” Liu Jing muttered as he picked up the pen from the floor. Such sloppiness at a young age—it was all Auntie’s influence.

“Sigh!” Teacher An shook his newspaper and sighed deeply in agreement.

The household of six was evenly split between men and women.

The old man was indifferent to worldly affairs; the little ones attracted no attention; Teacher An had a hard time.

At this moment, he even wondered if it would be harder when the girls grew up.

He glanced at the three adults and one child making zongzi together—a rare moment of harmony.

“Condolences.” Liu Jing sighed along.

Teacher An’s nose twitched, and his glasses nearly slipped off. No wonder Auntie often complained that Liu Jing made her want to jump into a river.

What was even more frustrating was that this child was polite, earnest, hardworking, and well-behaved—there was no reason to scold him.

“Liu Jing, you’re a year younger than Xixi. After summer vacation, she’ll start elementary school. Want me to pull some strings so you can start first grade with her?” Teacher An asked.

“No need. I don’t like using backdoors,” Liu Jing refused outright.

Elementary school students aren’t much more mature than kindergarteners. If he had the time, he’d rather study at home and enjoy freedom.

“Next year then, next year’s fine,” Teacher An was unconcerned. He felt at ease with the child at home but worried when he was outside.

“We have to abide by national regulations,” Liu Jing added.

Teacher An didn’t bother arguing and warned, “Liu Jing, elementary school isn’t like kindergarten or training classes. Behave yourself at school; don’t get expelled.”

“Don’t worry, I know my limits,” Liu Jing said confidently.

“Heh heh…” Teacher An gave a forced smile.

Liu Jing boasted, “This time at the martial arts class, I followed all the rules. I wasn’t expelled; I just graduated early.”

“Hmm! You’re absolutely right,” Teacher An thought, wanting to roll his eyes at such a statement.

“Uncle An, I heard a while ago that the old man wanted you to transfer to a diplomatic post, but you turned it down. Why?” Liu Jing asked, sensing the moment was right.

“I don’t like using backdoors,” Teacher An replied.

“If you have connections, you don’t use them, they expire. The old man can still exert some influence now, but in a few years, when his old comrades pass on, it won’t be so easy to get in. You’re still young, not even forty, in your prime. Living as a salty fish, like retired life, is no ambition. A man’s power is more attractive than wealth and more assured than talent,” Liu Jing lectured.

Teacher An frowned. “Who told you these things?”

No matter how gentle, he couldn’t help but get angry.

What was this salty fish nonsense? What retirement? He was a respected French professor, busy with serious work.

He suspected these words came from the somewhat unorthodox Auntie.

“Do I need someone to tell me this? It’s common sense. Sister Li’s career will only get brighter; she’s already quite domineering. When she surpasses you, you’ll be the one suffering, and it won’t be a little humiliation. For family harmony, you must be stronger than her; otherwise, she’ll fly away,” Liu Jing said earnestly. “If you don’t become a big shot, how will I realize my dream of living a carefree second-generation life?”

Looking at the family, he was the only one with real potential.

Sister Li wasn’t cut out for it, and Auntie even less so.

“You’re still young. Mind your own business,” Teacher An said, looking at him like an alien. This kid was truly extraordinary—his own aunt hadn’t thought this deeply.

“Sigh! If this family falls apart, it won’t be because of me. I’m doing this for us. I don’t want to be homeless again…” Liu Jing’s face was sorrowful, partly acting, partly sincere.

Teacher An was shaken, then moved. While pondering, someone knocked on the door.

“Wenqiong, little one, are you home? It’s me, Wang Jing. Happy Dragon Boat Festival! Zhang Min and I came to see you.”