James Bolton didn’t even know how he had muddle-headedly agreed to this request, but he had deeply understood his father’s intentions. Just looking at today’s situation made it clear that the third branch’s weak position in the Bolton family couldn’t be changed anytime soon, so Henry Bolton had pinned all his hopes on him.

What a pity, the hearts of parents everywhere... James Bolton couldn’t help but feel that, in this life, to have such parents—even if he wanted to slack off, he simply couldn’t. He didn’t know whether this was a blessing or a curse.

Chapter Eleven: Precisely the Unlearned and Unskilled

How long does it take to read a thin volume of “The Correct Meaning of the Analects”?

Even including the Analects itself and Mr. Foster’s annotations, such a book would never exceed a hundred thousand characters. If it were a novel, James Bolton would need at most two hours to finish it all, but this was classical Chinese, in a vertically printed traditional script, and not only did he need to read it, he also had to memorize and fully understand it. So, for a whole month, he was locked in a struggle with this book.

And in the academy, James Bolton had shed the title of “medicine jar,” but gained a new reputation as unlearned and unskilled.

Mr. Foster was not the only teacher in the Bolton family’s clan school; he was only responsible for lecturing on the Analects, and took no part in anything else. The other old scholars in charge of the remaining courses—whether dissatisfied with students not listening or with their own treatment—had all turned their attention to James Bolton, the lone student sitting in the front row.

After all, the other two from the Bolton family were “sick at home,” so in the entire clan school, he was the only one from the main branch. If they didn’t keep a close eye on him, how could they live up to their responsibilities?

Poor James Bolton had only just started picking up the Analects, let alone the other classics like the Book of Songs, Rites, or Changes. Every day he was battered and bruised by criticism, and so he finally realized one thing—there are definitely things in this world more terrifying than math, science, or English.

This day was the day before the monthly exam. The class was taught by an old scholar, who spent the whole day reciting in a sing-song tone. As usual, he closed the book in his hand, let his gaze sweep over every student’s face, and finally, as expected, fixed his eyes on James Bolton.

“James Bolton, ‘The Second Section of the Book of Rites: Qu Li, Part Two’—recite it for me.”

“Sir, I haven’t memorized it yet.”

After so many days in the academy, James Bolton had finally gained some experience. At this moment, as he spoke, his face showed an innocent yet ashamed expression, but his words still made the old scholar’s face turn green. The old scholar banged his ruler heavily on the lectern a few times, then said with deep disappointment, “The Bolton family of Xiangfu has always been famous for both civil and military talents. Your uncle passed the county exam at a young age, and yet you can’t even recite the Book of Rites! Coming from such a family, you should work even harder…”

Behind him came bursts of snickering, in front was the teacher’s bitter scolding, and in the middle, James Bolton just hung his head in a submissive pose, but in reality, he was thinking about how to return the book to Mr. Foster later, and how to deal with tomorrow’s monthly exam. The latter problem he could barely manage thanks to Benjamin Sullivan’s promise; but the former was truly troubling.

Other than lending him a book, he hadn’t noticed Mr. Foster treating him any differently. There was still half a month left before the deadline. He really didn’t want to disappoint his father, but what could he do to move someone so impervious to persuasion?

“Study hard, don’t let down the Bolton family’s reputation!”

Suddenly hearing this all-too-familiar closing remark, James Bolton hurriedly agreed, then bent down to respectfully see the nagging old teacher out. Only when he peeked and saw the man’s shadow disappear did he let out a long sigh and sit down, thinking that Charlie Bolton and Jack Bolton had really driven these old teachers up the wall in the past, or else they wouldn’t be taking it all out on him now.

Heaven knows how many days of school he’d actually attended—what was the point of watching him so closely?

The monthly exam was tomorrow. The students were all busy preparing, and since making fun of James Bolton for the same reason had lost its novelty, everyone—including that relative of the Prince of Xin’an, Emily Parker—quickly dispersed. James Bolton was just waiting for everyone to leave so he could find Mr. Foster and return the book, but unexpectedly, Benjamin Sullivan, still dressed in white, suddenly walked over.

“Why didn’t you tell Mr. Harris that you’d missed a lot of classes due to illness, and that’s why you couldn’t recite that section of the Book of Rites?”

In the whole month, James Bolton had spoken to Benjamin Sullivan no more than ten times. Now, seeing him take the initiative to strike up a conversation, it felt as if the sun had risen in the west. He studied Benjamin Sullivan’s face for a long time before shrugging and saying, “If I can’t recite it, I can’t recite it. There’s no need to make excuses. Am I supposed to use poor health as an excuse during the county exam in the future?”

Benjamin Sullivan was left speechless by James Bolton’s words. After a moment’s daze, he turned and walked out without another word. Just before leaving, he suddenly stopped, looked back at James Bolton, and said out of nowhere, “You really are different from them.”

There was no time to ponder what Benjamin Sullivan meant. Once he saw that guy had disappeared, James Bolton pulled the thin volume of “The Correct Meaning of the Analects” from his bag and dashed out of the classroom toward the room in the corner. Finding the door tightly closed, he gently knocked, then composed himself and put on a solemn expression.