International Elementary School
As the Dragon Boat Festival approaches, the newly hung plaque of "International Elementary School" on the west side of the Imperial College gleams with a golden sheen in the morning light.
Fifteen young men from various vassal states, dressed in their respective national costumes, sat upright. Wu Meiniang, holding Princess Taiping, stood beside a vermilion pillar, watching Chisong clumsily wield a brush to trace red characters.
The Tibetan prince's wrist trembled, and the last stroke of the character "黄" (yellow) dragged out a crooked tail.
"Your Highness," Shangguan Wan'er said softly, "Prince Chishong has recently been able to recite the Thousand Character Classic, but his pen-holding posture..."
Suddenly, Taiping twisted her body to get down, and the silver bells on her embroidered shoes jingled.
She staggered to the red pine tree's desk, stood on tiptoe, and pointed at the tracing paper: "It's crooked! It looks like an earthworm drawn by Taiping!"
Chishong scratched his head and chuckled, then suddenly switched to his left hand to hold the brush and wrote out the neat characters "天地玄黄" (Heaven and Earth, Black and Yellow).
Wu Zetian raised an eyebrow: "Does the Grand Master know that this child is left-handed?"
(OS: No wonder I always failed my exams before; it turns out I was held back by the teaching methods. Modern educational concepts are indeed applicable both in the past and present.)
She immediately summoned the Grand Master of the Imperial Academy and pointed to the specially made curved-handled brush for left-handed students on the table: "From now on, the elementary schools will be divided into left-handed and right-handed classes. The Crown Prince of Silla, who is skilled at holding a bow with his left hand, should also adjust the teaching method for archery."
Emperor Li Zhi passed by after court and saw children playing a new type of pitch-pot game in the courtyard—the arrows were engraved with characters from various countries, and the pot was painted with a map of the Silk Road.
The Turkic prince and the Khitan crown prince argued heatedly over the pronunciation of "Kucha," finally turning to Princess Taiping, who was munching on a jujube, and asking, "What does the princess say it should be pronounced?"
The little princess puffed out her cheeks and mumbled, "Ku-zi—" in perfect Chang'an Mandarin, startling the Goguryeo crown prince so much that he dropped the mugwort sachet in his hand.
(OS: Goodness, has this girl become a human translator? Is the sensitive period for language development in early childhood really that magical?)
At the Dragon Boat Festival banquet, Chisong presented an excerpt from "Li Sao" to the Emperor and Empress, bowing and saying, "I sigh deeply and wipe away my tears, lamenting the hardships of the people's lives."
Although his tone was awkward, he had already changed into a Tang-style belt around his waist.
When he explained his ideal of "good governance" in Tibetan, Taiping suddenly interjected: "Just like Father reducing taxes!"
Wu Zetian asked with a smile, "Do you know why Qu Yuan threw himself into the river?"
"Because he refuses to compromise his principles!" the young crown prince of Goguryeo interjected, "just as we refuse to ally with Tibet to harass the Tang Dynasty!"
Before he could finish speaking, Chishong started yelling in Tibetan, and the two children immediately started arguing.
In the silence of the hall, Cheng Wuting's wine cup clattered to the ground. Di Renjie slowly clapped his hands: "Your Majesty's strategy is worth ten thousand soldiers."
(OS: Cultural identity education needs to start from childhood. Once these children return to their homeland and take over, the borders will be peaceful for at least thirty years. But right now, we need to solve the problem of the children arguing...)
Wu Meiniang gently tapped the table, instructing Taiping to share the oak leaf dumplings with the two bickering boys.
The little princess broke open a piece of golden glutinous rice, took a bite of "Brother Song" on the left and "Brother Yuan" on the right, instantly defusing a "diplomatic crisis".
As the moon rose, Wu Zetian led the children to release lotus lanterns into the Taiye Pond.
Suddenly, Chisong began to sing a pastoral song in Tibetan, and Taiping followed along, managing to sing along with it, and was able to reproduce it in seven or eight parts similarity.
The Silla crown prince beats a waist drum in harmony, while a Persian girl twirls her pomegranate-red skirt.
"Your Highness," Chishong's eyes lit up, "the princess can distinguish musical notes!"
Looking at the foreign child's face reflected in the water, Wu Zetian suddenly said, "Tomorrow, we will add a course called 'Music of All Nations,' which will include teaching 'The Qin King's Battle Song,' as well as Tibetan pastoral songs and Kucha pipa scores."
(OS: If we're going to export culture, we also need to import some exotic essences. Wait, could this be considered the earliest form of "Belt and Road" cultural exchange?)
Li Zhi waved from the shore, and Princess Taiping immediately opened her arms and rushed towards him. He picked up his daughter and chuckled, "My Taiping, will you one day become a little envoy to all nations?"
The little princess hugged her father's neck and suddenly uttered a Tibetan "thank you".
Wu Zetian pushed the lotus lantern painted with crabapple blossoms towards the center of the pond, watching the candlelight carry the charm of the Tang Dynasty and the style of the Central Plains, rippling outwards.
The songs of children from various countries drifted through the weeping willows, startling the roosting egrets into flight.
(OS: Perhaps a thousand years from now, someone will discover the "Spring Festival Collection" written by these children together in the Dunhuang manuscripts?)
——
[Study Notes of Songtsen Gampo's Grandson]
by: Chishong, Forced Academic Superstar, Dezan
March 28
I failed the calligraphy practice test again today.
The Han Chinese writing brush is harder to tame than the Tibetan yak!
Princess Taiping said my writing was like an earthworm... How did she know what an earthworm looks like?
(Aren't princesses from the Central Plains supposed to be delicate and frail?)
April 5
I found that writing with my left hand was actually more comfortable.
The Empress actually gave me a new calligraphy brush with a curved tip!
It turns out that people in the Tang Dynasty would make special pens for left-handed people.
(If my grandfather had known this back then, would he have sent me to Chang'an sooner?)
April 12
When arguing with the Khitan crown prince, he insisted that the word "Qiuci" was pronounced in Kucha.
In the end, Princess Taiping was the judge. Even with a jujube in her mouth, her speech was more standard than ours.
(Speaking of which, the candied dates in the Tang Dynasty were really sweet...)
May 5th
During the Dragon Boat Festival banquet, while reciting "Li Sao," he almost mispronounced "lamenting the hardships of the people's lives" as "loving the lowly status of the people." Did General Cheng choke on his wine?
(However, the Empress's smile was very beautiful, like the expression a mother has when looking at a lamb.)
May 15
Princess Taiping has actually learned my pastoral songs!
Her sweet, childlike voice when she sang "Yarlung Tsangpo" was even clearer than the dewdrops on a Gesang flower.
(If only I could take her back to Tibet to see the snow-capped mountains... but His Majesty might just throw me into Taiye Pond to feed the fish.)
June 1st
Today in music class, we learned "The Music of the King of Qin Breaking the Enemy's Formation," and I taught everyone to sing the Tibetan prayer song.
The little Persian girl who kept spinning around almost made herself dizzy.
(So it turns out that Han Chinese people don't spend all their time using classical Chinese phrases.)
June 15
The Empress said she wanted to create a "food recipe from all over the world" and asked me to contribute the recipe for butter tea.
I secretly added two extra spoonfuls of sugar, so Princess Taiping would probably like to drink it.
(I wonder if she'll dislike butter tea as much as she dislikes calligraphy brushes?)
Now, when I write, Taiping always lies down beside my desk to supervise me.
Every time she wrote crookedly, she would point it with her little finger, covered in ink, and say, "Brother Song, it's crooked!"
(Suddenly I don't want to return to the country and assume the throne so soon...)
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