All the nations gather in splendid attire to pay homage in Chang’an.

The little girl hadn’t expected Fang Chang’an to give her candy. Instinctively, she wanted to refuse, and she was reluctant to touch his hand. She waited until he set the candy down before picking it up, intending to return it. But Fang Chang’an said, “It’s a meeting gift. You can return the favor, but you mustn’t refuse. Otherwise, it’s impolite.”

She hesitated. Perhaps she had been taught to be polite from a young age, so in the end she lowered her hand, murmured a soft “Oh,” and sat properly, watching the classmates from the fourth row enter. Her skin was fair as snow, her back straight, exuding a quiet, pure grace.

Wang Ke was the fourth girl in the fourth row. The two in front had already passed the podium, so she had no choice but to follow the others toward the aisle by the wall.

Fang Chang’an showed no trace of guilt for breaking his earlier word. When he saw Wang Ke approach, he waved cheerfully at her, grinning and whispering, “Perfect. You can sit behind me.”

The little girl pursed her lips, not wanting to acknowledge him. But the third girl in front, hearing Fang Chang’an speak, thoughtfully moved to the desk in the very center. After a brief hesitation, the girl behind chose the seat by the wall.

Thus, Wang Ke had no other option but to sit behind Fang Chang’an. Deliberately, she chose the seat behind Shen Mo—still by the aisle—wanting to keep her distance from this unreliable fellow.

The last to enter was Wang Hao. The boy ahead of him wasn’t as thick-skinned as Fang Chang’an. Although he also thought Wang Ke was prettier, since he’d come in first, he took the middle desk, leaving Wang Hao to be Wang Ke’s deskmate.

The seats were quickly reassigned: fifty-five students, twenty-six girls, and three remaining boys, so two pairs of boys and an empty seat ended up in the last row.

“Everyone, please take your belongings.”

Other than Fang Chang’an, nearly everyone had a backpack or books. The classroom was filled with the clatter of students moving their things to the new seats. Only Fang Chang’an remained unmoved at his desk, as if nothing concerned him.

Once everyone settled with their bags, Cheng Mengfei made a few final adjustments to the seating. Seeing that everything was more or less in order, she said, “All right, next we’ll have introductions, starting from the first row.”

At this age, children dreaded going up in front of the class—it felt like facing a guillotine. At her words, the students in the first row all tensed, their hearts pounding with nerves.

Cheng Mengfei looked to the boy seated nearest the door in the first row and smiled gently, “Let’s start with you. I’ll give you half a minute to think about what you want to say. When you’re ready, come up, all right?”

The boy’s face bore the look of “Teacher suddenly wants me to introduce myself—what do I do? Urgent!” But of course, he didn’t dare refuse. He nodded, then sat in a daze.

Cheng Mengfei waited, seeing everyone so tense, then reassured them in a soft voice: “Don’t be nervous, everyone. You’re in middle school now. From here, you’ll have to start learning how to grow up. This is a chance to practice—soon you’ll have many opportunities to speak in front of even more people. Don’t worry, just say whatever comes to mind.”

She turned back to the boy in the first row. “Ready?”

“Oh.” The boy replied, stood up, and his deskmate quickly made space for him to leave.

He wasn’t tall, about 1.4 meters, very likely the shortest in the class. His face turned red before he even reached the podium.

Cheng Mengfei stepped aside, smiling at him. The small boy stood stiffly in the middle of the stage, eyes flickering over his classmates before darting upward. His voice trembled: “My name is Xu Yang, from Xu Wa. From now on, we’re classmates. Please… please take care of me.”

Then, his whole body shaking, he dashed off the stage.

Applause broke out.

Cheng Mengfei led the clapping, and everyone joined in.

“Well done. Next,” she said, signaling to Xu Yang’s deskmate, a dark and skinny little girl who was visibly nervous but handled herself better than Xu Yang. Her voice was clear as she said, “Hello, classmates and teacher. My name is Zhou Xiaoyan, I’m from town. I like singing and drawing. I hope we can communicate more, help each other in our studies, and look after one another in life.”

Even in these years, the gap between a small town and the countryside was immense, not only in living standards but even more so in education. Anyone who could speak of hobbies like that most likely wasn’t from a rural background.

After Zhou Xiaoyan finished, she bowed slightly and descended the stage with a smile. Cheng Mengfei applauded again.

“Hello, teacher and classmates. My name is Yang Qian, I’m thirteen years old. I like reading and playing chess. I’m not very talkative—no, I mean, I don’t often speak first. I hope everyone can take the initiative to speak with me. I actually really like making friends…”

“My name is Zhao Hao. I like math, and… uh… that’s all. Thank you, everyone.”

“I’m Hao Mingci, from Yangzhuang. I like playing ball games. Hope we can play together in the future.”

…

One by one, the students went up. Fang Chang’an listened carefully, hoping to recover more memories. He recognized quite a few names, but matching faces to those names proved difficult.

The things that stuck with him the most, in fact, were the bits and pieces he’d learned later on—like how Zhou Xiaoyan ended up marrying someone from the class, the only couple in the class, had two children, and eventually separated.

After a while, Fang Chang’an realized he’d need to get to know everyone anew. He didn’t spot Zhou Xiaoyan’s future husband, and soon lost interest, turning instead to sneak glances at Shen Mo.

She looked even younger than the other girls in class—whether it was her youthful features or an early start at school, it was hard to say. Her face was delicate, with fine, sculpted features and skin like flawless jade—soft and translucent, as if she were a porcelain doll.

Like Cheng Mengfei, Shen Mo seemed out of place among the many students from rural families. The difference was, Cheng Mengfei had just arrived, while Shen Mo was soon to leave.

In his past life, Shen Mo attended class for only one term before transferring to a city school. At first, Fang Chang’an thought she’d switched classes and spent a whole term searching for her in vain. Only later did he overhear classmates chatting and learn she’d transferred, leaving him feeling dejected and listless.

It wasn’t until he developed feelings for Wang Ke that he found joy in his studies again.

From bits and pieces he’d gathered, he guessed Shen Mo was the granddaughter of Shen Baoguo, the town mayor, since Cheng Mengfei was his daughter-in-law and Shen Mo called her “Aunt.” That’s what Fang Chang’an had heard from others.

In his previous life, he was far too timid. Even sitting behind Shen Mo, he never managed to speak a word to her before she left. He didn’t even dare ask about her, afraid a single question would invite ridicule, so he could only eavesdrop on the gossip of others.

As the sun slanted westward, its rays filtered through air still untouched by pollution and into the classroom. Though their seats weren’t bathed in sunlight, from Fang Chang’an’s vantage point, a shaft of light framed her perfectly, providing a flawless backdrop.

Bathed in this slice of sunlight, she was like a vision lost in the river of time. Even the dust motes floating within the golden beams seemed lit with vibrant color.

Fang Chang’an stared in a daze at the girl’s delicate, innocent profile. After a long moment, a gentle blush began to bloom on her fair cheeks—a healthy, translucent glow, as if flawless jade had been stained with rouge, making her skin appear all the more clear and tender.

Was she… shy?

Fang Chang’an snapped out of it, realizing he’d been staring too long. Fearing her aunt would catch him, he quickly sat up and faced forward with feigned solemnity.

By now, it was the second row’s turn. Shen Mo was third in the third row, and as the students ahead took their turns, she grew visibly more nervous, quietly rehearsing under her breath.

Fang Chang’an leaned slightly toward her and whispered, “Don’t be nervous, just say a few words.”

She looked at him but didn’t reply. Fang Chang’an, worried he might overdo it, just smiled and sat quietly, behaving himself.

Soon it was the third row’s turn. Shen Mo’s nerves seemed to spike, but as the girl before her left the stage, she rose and strode forward, showing no sign of her earlier anxiety. Dressed in a pink-and-white princess dress, she looked elegant and refined. Under the gaze of the class, she walked to the podium like a true little princess.

She faced the class. Nearly half the boys’ eyes lit up, though at this age, in this era, few were as complicated in thought as Fang Chang’an in this life. In his previous life, the majority were far more innocent. They simply thought she was pretty, nothing more. Some didn’t even dare look twice.

“Hello, everyone. My name is Shen Mo. I like singing, dancing, playing piano, and drawing, though I’m not very good at it…”

Her voice was soft, but the classroom was exceptionally quiet, so everyone heard her clearly, waiting for her to continue. After two seconds of silence, Shen Mo clenched her little fists, searching for something more to say. Finding nothing, she bowed gently and hurried off the stage.

This time, Cheng Mengfei didn’t lead the applause, but soon the students began to clap enthusiastically, the noise rousing a few girls deep in thought about their own introductions.

Fang Chang’an joined in, clapping softly as he stood.

Many students stared curiously at the boy who both clapped and stood, making himself stand out—until they realized, oh, he’s next!

Shen Mo returned to her seat, head bowed, cheeks flushed adorably. Cheng Mengfei glanced their way. Fang Chang’an dared not whisper as he brushed past her and mounted the stage.

Unlike the other students, who hurried through their introductions, he took a moment to glance around from this perfect vantage point, feeling a rush of emotion before finally smiling and beginning, “Hello, Teacher Cheng, hello, classmates. My name is Fang Chang’an—as in the strategist Fang, and the Chang’an of ‘Palaces open in the heavens, and all the nations’ nobles bow to the imperial throne.’”

At this age, few were well-read. Programs like Poetry Conference were rare even in later years, let alone now. Parents with foresight pushed their kids to memorize English vocabulary from an early age.

Most students didn’t catch the lines of poetry, nor did they know where “Chang’an” was. They stared at him blankly.

Cheng Mengfei, listening by the side, was surprised. She hadn’t expected a student so young to use poetry for his self-introduction. Though a bit irreverent, upon reflection she quickly understood the reference to “Chang’an” and found it amusing.

“I have a lot of hobbies, but I’m not good at any of them. For example, I like listening to music but can’t sing.”

Fang Chang’an originally wanted to draw more comparisons, but with his aunt standing right there, he didn’t dare risk a scolding. So he continued, “My family lives in Majia Gou, more than ten miles southeast from here. I like looking for bird nests, catching dragonflies and loaches, I help out in the fields, pick watermelons and apples, help with pollination, plant peanuts and beans, harvest corn…”