As the twilight painted the earthen walls of the Yuan family home a warm brown, and the aroma of corn porridge wafting from the kitchen had yet to dissipate, Father Yuan called his five children into the main room. A single, flickering oil lamp sat upon the square table, its flame casting wavering shadows. He tapped his fingers gently against the wooden surface and said in a deep, gravelly voice, “Your mother and I discussed this half the night. We’ve decided to send all five of you to school.”
Li Xia wasn’t surprised; she had already guessed this was coming. Hearing the words now, she merely peeked up, but out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her eldest sister’s face flush bright red. Her second brother turned his head away, his toes nervously scraping a fine line into the dirt floor.
“Dad, I’m already fifteen,” Eldest Sister said, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s buzz as her fingers twisted a patch on her apron. “Sitting next to a bunch of seven and eight-year-old kids… people will definitely laugh at me.” Second Brother immediately nodded in agreement, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Exactly. What’s the point of studying anyway? It’d be much better if I just followed you to work in the fields.”
Li Xia stepped half a pace forward, the light of the oil lamp reflecting in the bright, tiny glints of her eyes. “Eldest Sister, Second Brother, don’t you want to know how to write your own names? When I was looking for the state-owned store today, all the signs on the street looked like a blur to me because I couldn’t read them. If we can read, why would we ever need to chase after strangers to ask for directions?”
Father Yuan remained silent. The scenes from his trip to the county seat earlier that day flashed through his mind again; that suffocating feeling of helplessness was like a thorn, piercing his heart with tension. “Everyone must go,” his voice sank even lower than before. “Knowing a few characters means you won’t feel anxious when walking down a dark road in the future. You can’t be like us, spending your whole lives as ‘blind men with open eyes’.” Eldest Sister and Second Brother fell silent.
The next morning, when the five Yuan children walked out the door carrying schoolbags stitched from scraps of cloth, the entire village erupted in a frenzy. Some leaned against their doorframes to watch, scoffing that the Yuan family had gone mad for letting young girls go to school; others were older villagers who sighed, praising Father Yuan for his foresight. Father Yuan only offered a sheepish grin and told people, “It’s nothing grand. I just want the kids to recognize a few words so they won’t get bullied in the future.”
Sitting in the first-grade classroom, Li Xia lightly traced the printed characters in her textbook with her fingertips, her heart feeling as sweet as if she were holding a piece of candy. She thought back to her past life, where she had been a notoriously poor student. Back then, the red checkmarks on her exam papers always outnumbered the actual words, and her grandfather’s hands would shake with rage as he held her report cards, calling her a piece of “rotten mud that couldn’t stick to a wall.” Now, the simple phonetic symbols like “a, o, e” in front of her felt more precious than any treasure on earth.
However, life as a transfer student wasn’t easy. It had been nearly two months since the school year started, and even though the school had closed for a half-month holiday during the busy farming season, they had still fallen far behind on the earlier curriculum. Luckily, their Chinese teacher, Teacher Li, was a kind-hearted soul who called the five of them into the office every day at noon for remedial lessons. Teacher Li taught at a brisk pace, writing and erasing pinyin across the blackboard. Whenever Li Xia glanced back at her brothers and sisters, their brows were knitted into tight knots. Fourth Brother, in particular, couldn’t sit still; his fingers constantly picked at the wood inside his desk drawer, his gaze drifting out the window toward the scholar tree.
In the evening, after dinner, while Mother Yuan was clearing the dishes, Li Xia called her siblings into the main room. The fading colors of sunset filtered through the window lattices, resting perfectly on the square table. She spread open her textbook. “Sisters, brothers, let’s review ‘a, o, e… b, p, m, f’ today. I’ll teach you how to read them, and we can go through it over and over again.”
Li Xia read first, her voice clear and resonant: “b—bo.” Eldest Sister repeated after her, her voice trembling slightly, blushing and laughing whenever she made a mistake. Second Brother was impatient at first, but listening to his younger sister’s patient voice, he gradually settled his mind. Third Sister was the most stable and focused; after reading along, she would carefully draw the difficult phonetic symbols on a piece of paper.
Standing by the kitchen door, Father Yuan and Mother Yuan watched the scene unfolding in the main room and quietly exchanged a glance. Father Yuan stroked his chin and whispered, “Look at our fifth child, acting just like a little teacher. This child is truly cut out for studying.” Mother Yuan smiled and nodded, her eyes overflowing with gratification—she had realized long ago that their fifth child was different from other kids. She was like a little sprout in the field, bursting with a fierce determination to grow upward.
By the time the sky had turned completely dark, Eldest Sister could finally recite “b, p, m, f” flawlessly, and she could even spell out the words for “Dad” and “Mom.” She excitedly grasped Li Xia’s hand, her voice thick with tears. “Fifth Sister, I know how to spell ‘Mom’ now!” Second Brother also grinned from ear to ear, holding up his paper. “I can do it too! Look, this is the pinyin I wrote for ‘Dad’!”
Looking at the smiling faces of her brothers and sisters, Li Xia felt a profound warmth fill her chest. Outside the window, the moonlight grew brighter, and the wind rustled softly through the dry autumn leaves.