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The Lucky Farmgirl-Chapter 52 - 41 Ants Moving House
52: Chapter 41 Ants Moving House
52 -41 Ants Moving House
Bai Shanbao then said, “For that, you need to be as amazing as Confucius himself.
Zigong said that it takes the qualities of benevolence, righteousness, respect, thrift, and modesty for everyone to be willing to share their stories with Confucius.”
Manbao confidently replied, “I can definitely do it too.
By the way, what does it mean to be benevolent, righteous, respectful, thrifty, and modest?
You mean I should be modest, right?”
Bai Shanbao scorned her, “You don’t even know what it entails and you say you can do it.
Children who boast are not good children.”
“What do you know?
Keke said, before doing anything, you have to set a goal first.
That’s how you make a plan.
And of course, the bigger the goal the better.”
System: “…”
Bai Shanbao’s eyes rolled with doubt, “Really?”
Manbao nodded firmly, “Of course it’s true.”
“Then, I will be a high-ranking official in the future, a rank higher than my father’s.
I don’t want to be the same rank as my father.”
Manbao exclaimed with excitement, “What position does your father hold?”
Bai Shanbao replied with some pride yet modesty, “My father is a county magistrate.”
Manbao had a bad opinion of county magistrates, “Magistrates are no good, they always take our money.”
Bai Shanbao became upset, “My father is a good official, and he’s even received rewards from the imperial court.”
Mr.
Zhuang had just entered the classroom when he overheard the two children’s conversation.
He frowned, wondering how they, at such a young age, had started to criticize the government.
Do these two children even know what a county magistrate does?
Mr.
Zhuang took the two children out into the courtyard to talk.
Bai Shanbao was a bit nervous, as his experience told him being called out by the teacher alone was never a good sign.
But Manbao was different.
Compared to sitting in class, she was more used to sitting in the yard reading and talking with Mr.
Zhuang.
So, she followed him out cheerfully.
Seeing Manbao so happy, Bai Shanbao thought it might not be something bad, so he also relaxed and followed.
Mr.
Zhuang sat down on the stone bench and summoned the two children over, asking, “What were you two just talking about?”
Shanbao lowered his head, thinking that the teacher’s question was an accusation, a rebuke for them talking during class.
But Manbao didn’t see it that way.
Hearing the teacher’s question, she happily recounted their entire conversation and even asked, “Teacher, are there good county magistrates too?”
Mr.
Zhuang couldn’t help asking her, “Why would you think that magistrates are bad?”
Manbao talked about how the other day when she went to the county city, she had to pay an extra coin to enter, and also mentioned the news that her Fifth Brother had heard from the city that pedestrians would soon have to pay an entry fee as well.
That’s why she thought all magistrates were bad, only taking money from the common people.
After a moment of silence, Mr.
Zhuang asked, “Do you know what a county magistrate is supposed to do?”
Shanbao glanced at Manbao, then at the teacher, sensing that Mr.
Zhuang was different from their previous teachers.
So, he boldly replied, “The county magistrate is like a parent to the people of the county, managing the common folks.”
Mr.
Zhuang stroked his beard with a smile and asked, “What else?”
Bai Shanbao was not an honest child by nature; if he had been, he wouldn’t have been frequently called out by teachers during the clan school, nor would he have dared to make faces at Manbao in front of his parents the day before.
So, with Mr.
Zhuang’s encouragement and Manbao by his side as an example, he joined in on the eager answering.
Manbao said, “They collect the entry fees!”
Shanbao said, “They adjudicate cases.”
Manbao added, “They collect grain taxes.
My family just paid our grain tax not long ago.”
It was then that Zhou Silang accompanied the villagers to escort the grain to the county city and got mixed up in gambling.
Shanbao then said, “They also catch thieves and defend the common people’s cause.”
Shanbao tilted his head in thought, scratching it and added, “They have to persuade the common people to plant crops and raise silkworms on mulberry trees.”
Manbao mocked him, “That’s so dumb.
We are farmers; we know when to plant.
Do we need the magistrate to persuade us?”
“We do, ask the teacher if you don’t believe me.
My grandmother said that county magistrates should advocate for agriculture and sericulture.
My father died while he was out advocating for it when he encountered bandits,” he insisted.
Mr.
Zhuang, not expecting Shanbao to be the descendant of a martyr, became even more gentle.
He reached out to pat his head, saying, “The things you two are insisting on are only superficial aspects you’ve seen, and that’s not correct.”
The two children looked bewildered.
Seeing their puzzled faces, Mr.
Zhuang felt at a loss for words.
The children were still too young; even if he explained it to them, they might not understand.
Mr.
Zhuang was deep in thought, his gaze lowered, not revealing what was on his mind.
The two children waited quietly.
After a while, with Mr.
Zhuang still not speaking, Manbao began scratching her head, rocking her body from side to side and, by accident, bumped into Shanbao.
Shanbao glanced at the teacher and then pushed back with his small body.
Manbao, almost falling over, blinked and pushed back as well.
The two children seemed to find a competitive interest in their jostling; taking advantage of Mr.
Zhuang’s distraction, their small bodies came together, each pushing the other with force.
Mr.
Zhuang was still deep in thought when he caught sight of an anthill nearby, which sparked an idea.
He looked up and noticed the two children jostling each other, prompting him to clear his throat with a headache.
Manbao and Shanbao instantly straightened up, but since Shanbao stopped pushing first, Manbao, a little delayed, bumped right into him, knocking Shanbao to the ground.
The two children rolled into a tangle.
Mr.
Zhuang feared they might cry, but they quickly got up and stood properly again.
Mixed with amusement and irritation, Mr.
Zhuang called them over, “Come here.”
The children approached, and Mr.
Zhuang pointed to the anthill on the ground for them to see, “What is this?”
The two children raced to answer, “Ants!”
“Right, these are ants.
Now, tell me if they are good or bad?” he asked.
The two children were stumped, “Do ants really come in good or bad?”
“You’ve labeled magistrates as good or bad, why can’t ants be the same?” he countered.
Manbao declared, “Then they’re bad, because they steal our food.
Look, they’re carrying grains of rice.
They must have stolen it.”
Shanbao nodded in agreement.
Mr.
Zhuang burst into laughter and said, “Now I’m not asking if ants are good or bad; I’m asking what you see.”
Shanbao said, “They’re lining up to move things.”
Manbao, having observed ants before, noted, “When ants move their nest, it means rain is coming.”
Mr.
Zhuang then inquired, “How do you know when ants move their nest it is going to rain?
Did you see rain coming?”
Both children looked up at the blazing sun and shook their heads simultaneously, but Manbao persisted, “My mother said so, that when ants move their nest, rain is on the way.”
Mr.
Zhuang nodded, “Let’s wait and see if it rains today.”
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Shanbao whispered to her, “With the sun so bright, how could it rain?”
Manbao began to doubt as well, for this was something her mother and others frequently mentioned, so she remembered it, but she had never really paid attention to whether it was true that rain always followed when ants moved their nest.