Chapter 98 Untitled 3
Sizhui was organizing his notes in the library when the program team handed him the assignment card. Seeing the words "Go to Sunshine Elementary School as a substitute teacher for one day," the boy paused, his fingers gripping the card, and a faint reddened at the tips of his ears.
“Isn’t it too much for a fifteen-year-old to teach elementary school students? Our Sizhui is still a little kid.” Wei Wuxian came over to take a look, a little worried, “Those little kids are hard to manage.”
"It turns out that all parents are the same. I'm 25, and my mom still thinks I'm a kid."
"Yes, yes, who says it isn't? But Sizhui upstairs is indeed a little young."
"It's not so bad, after all, Sizhui has quite a lot of cultural heritage."
Lan Wangji looked at Sizhui and asked, "Do you want to go?"
Si Zhui looked up, a hint of hesitation flashed in his eyes, and then he nodded: "I want to try."
On the day of his departure, Sizhui wore a simple white shirt, the cuffs neatly rolled up to his forearms, revealing his clean-cut wrists. Standing in front of the mirror, he was already 1.7 meters tall, with an upright figure. His eyes and eyebrows possessed both the elegance of Lan Wangji and the brightness of Wei Wuxian. If you didn't look closely, he might have resembled a newly hired young teacher.
When the children of Sunshine Primary School heard that a "young teacher" was coming, they were so curious that they leaned over the classroom door to peek in. When they saw Si Zhui walk in, their eyes widened - this teacher looked so young, so tall, and had a very gentle smile.
Sizhui stood on the podium, his eyes sweeping across the thirty or so young faces below. He suddenly remembered Lan Qiren lecturing at the Cloud Recesses when he was little. His palms sweated slightly, but he straightened his back and spoke in a clear voice, "Hello everyone, my name is Lan Sizhui, and I'll be teaching you Chinese today."
His tone was clear and youthful, yet also revealed a seriousness, very much like the way Lan Wangji usually spoke.
During the first class, Sizhui was teaching classical Chinese poetry. His chalk calligraphy was neat and beautiful, imbued with the unique grace of a poetic world. Instead of reciting from a textbook like a traditional teacher, he told the story behind the poem. When he reached the part about "When I was young, I didn't know the moon," he suddenly bent down, picked up a piece of chalk from the podium, and held it up to the sunlight. "Look, everyone, moonlight is actually like this chalk dust. It scatters in the sunlight, like stars falling to the ground."
The children exclaimed, "Wow!" and came over, their eyes full of curiosity. Si Zhui looked at them and suddenly smiled, his eyebrows curved, just like Wei Wuxian's clever jokes. "In fact, the ancients were just like us. They would stare at the moon and wonder if there was a Chang'e in the sky."
The class instantly became lively, and a child raised his hand: "Teacher Lan, have you seen Chang'e?"
"Teacher Lan, weren't you able to recite ancient poems when you were a child?"
"My brother said that memorizing poetry is difficult. Is that true?"
Si Zhui didn't put on a stern face like Lan Qiren did. Instead, he walked among the children, squatted down to look them in the eye, and softened his voice: "Reciting poetry is a little difficult, but we can turn it into a game."
He taught the children to make a clapping song out of the poem, leading them to clap their hands and recite it. The clear voices echoed the rhythm, and even the most mischievous little boy started bobbing his head. This lively energy was a perfect replica of the time when Wei Wuxian led them in playing games.
During lunch break, several young girls gathered around Sizhui and handed him their drawings: "Teacher Lan, these are for you." Sizhui took them carefully, smoothing them out one by one, as solemnly as Lan Wangji treated important documents. He also took out the bookmarks he carried with him and gave them back: "This is for you. You can use it when reading."
A little boy accidentally fell and ran over crying. Si Zhui didn't immediately help him up. Instead, he squatted down and asked, "Can you stand up on your own? The teacher believes you can." After the boy sobbed and climbed to his feet, he took out a Band-Aid and gently helped him put it on. He ruffled the child's hair like Wei Wuxian did and said, "How brave."
The program crew's cameras quietly recorded all of this: when lecturing, he was the serious Teacher Lan, with neat and clear blackboard writing; when playing games, he was the lively and cheerful Brother Si Zhui, with bright eyes and brisk movements; when dealing with small conflicts, he had both Lan Wangji's calmness and Wei Wuxian's patience, and the two characteristics were perfectly integrated in him.
Before school was over, the children lined up to say goodbye to him, hugging his arms and refusing to let go.
"Will Teacher Lan come tomorrow?"
"I'll give you my favorite sticker, please don't leave, okay?"
"Teacher, these are cookies my mother made, you must eat them!"
Si Zhui looked at the pile of snacks and paintings in his arms, his eyes a little warm. He bent down and gently hugged the clingy little girl: "I will come to see you when I have time."
As he walked out of the school gate, the setting sun was falling on his shoulders. The program crew smiled and said, "Teacher Lan Xiao performed really well today. He was much more relaxed than we expected."
Si Zhui blushed slightly as he looked down at the painting in his hands. He suddenly remembered Lan Qiren teaching him to read when they were little, and how Wei Wuxian had him teasing Wen Ning. It turned out that those influences, hidden over the years, had already quietly melted into his bones—he had learned to be serious about the rules, while also retaining his natural liveliness.
When they got home, Wei WuXian snatched the painting from his hand and said, "Hey, our SiZhui has become the leader of the children?"
Lan Wangji flipped through the photos sent by the production team and saw Si Zhui squatting on the ground putting a Band-Aid on the child. He couldn't hide the smile in his eyes: "Well done."
Sizhui sat between them, his fingertips gently stroking the graffiti that read "Teacher Lan and Us." He suddenly realized that growth, perhaps, was about gently passing on what he had learned from love to others. Just like the composure Lan Wangji had taught him, and the passion Wei Wuxian had taught him, they ultimately became his own strength.
The stars outside the window lit up, and the boy's lips curled up slightly. Tomorrow, it was time to put these drawings in the album—this was his first day as a "Little Master," and it was also another warm mark on his growth path.
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