James Bolton had spent over a decade studying in his previous life, and now he found himself reduced to the point of having to attend school with a group of children again. He couldn’t help but feel a bit emotional about it. However, the two brothers, Charlie Bolton and Jack Bolton, who were walking with him, showed no intention of going to class at all. Instead, they bickered the whole way, still preoccupied with yesterday’s martial arts match, not taking studying seriously in the slightest.

After a long while, the two couldn’t settle their argument, so they simply dragged James Bolton along, demanding that he judge who was better at martial arts. Their shouting nearly deafened him. It took quite a bit of effort before he finally got the two to stop quarreling. But as they approached the school, with its blue bricks and red tiles visible in the distance, he found himself firmly held on either side by the brothers.

Jack Bolton, being impatient, was the first to speak up: “Third brother, you go to class yourself and just tell the teacher that the two of us are sick!”

Charlie Bolton, a bit older, spoke in a more serious tone: “Last time, it was our fault you fell from the tree, but honestly, with your build, there’s no point in you coming with us. You should just focus on your studies. Anyway, just cover for us about school, and whatever benefits we get, we’ll share with you.”

These two… skipping class so brazenly? James Bolton was at a loss for words. Looking more closely, he saw that the six who followed the brothers to class were all sturdy young men in their early twenties, each with a fierce look, more like they were heading for a fight than to study. Glancing at the two frail book boys behind him, he was left speechless.

Seeing James Bolton just standing there in a daze, Charlie Bolton didn’t say more. He simply patted him on the shoulder with a grin and led his group away. Even when a few classmates from the clan school approached, he just kept joking with his brother about where to go have fun today, not caring at all.

After all, the Zhang family had been working in the Privy Council since the late Yuan dynasty, always seeking to rise through military merit, and studying was just a side pursuit. Besides, no matter how much you studied, how many people could actually earn a noble title through books?

It wasn’t until the two brothers leisurely disappeared from sight that James Bolton counted on his fingers and realized he’d barely been here a handful of times. Even when Charlie Bolton and Jack Bolton had attended with him, they’d often vanish from the classroom after a short while. Of course, “he” himself hadn’t done much better; in the memories that belonged to James Bolton, there was hardly anything about the Four Books, Five Classics, or Analects—he seemed to have spent all his school time daydreaming.

The Zhang clan school had about fifty or sixty students, all of different ages and at different stages. Those under twelve studied in the east courtyard, while those over twelve attended classes in the west courtyard. The administrator was a distant relative named Samuel Bolton, who, by seniority, was considered James Bolton’s grand-uncle. When James Bolton told him at the gate that the Charlie Bolton and Jack Bolton brothers were sick and couldn’t come, he simply nodded and let James Bolton in without asking a single question.

“That muddle-headed Zhang Xiaosan is here again!”

“Let’s bet on how many days he’ll last this time?”

“Three days!”

“He lasted a whole month last time. Three days is too short—you’ll lose for sure! I bet half a month!”

Hearing all this nonsense, James Bolton felt like he was back in a third-rate modern school. According to his memory, he sat in the second seat from the left in the front row. Looking around, he saw that the seats belonging to the Charlie Bolton and Jack Bolton brothers were empty, and the row behind was also deserted. Only the rows further back were about seventy or eighty percent full, and aside from a few who sat upright, most were loudly chatting away.

At this moment, he had only one thought—crows are black everywhere, from ancient times to the present!

Soon, the teacher, Mr. Foster, arrived right on time to the sound of the clapper, opened his book, and began lecturing on the Analects, the “Shu Er” chapter. James Bolton listened with his ears, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander around. He saw that only a few of the students were actually paying attention, while the rest were either sleeping or doodling, and two particularly brazen ones were chatting even louder than the teacher.

After a moment’s distraction, James Bolton began to focus intently. Since he was in this era, he might have to try for the imperial exams, so he had no choice but to study hard. As he listened carefully, he realized that Mr. Foster was quite skilled—not only did he lecture without looking at the book, but he could cite references off the top of his head and occasionally interject with modern and ancient commentary. The only pity was that, like his bland face, his voice was flat and monotonous, making it easy to doze off.

As he listened, James Bolton unconsciously reverted to his old habits, taking a stack of paper and jotting down important points as he listened. However, he hadn’t used a brush since junior high, and while he could recognize traditional characters, he couldn’t really write them. So, while his writing was barely passable, it was mixed with a lot of scrawled simplified characters. By the end of the class, he had filled a whole stack of notes, and his wrist ached as if it had been beaten.