Chapter Six: Going to School

As the three of them chatted along the way, time seemed to pass swiftly, and the journey felt remarkably short. Before they knew it, they had arrived at Chaoyang Primary School.

This was the school they would soon attend—a modest village school with just over three hundred students. The daily operation of the school largely depended on sponsorship from influential families like the Han clan. Naturally, the children of such clans received extra care and found life at the school much easier.

The school was not far from their home, about half an hour’s walk, so Bingyan and his companions were day students, returning home each morning and evening, while lunch was eaten at school.

“Wow, is this the place?” Han Bingran exclaimed as she stood at the school gate. It wasn’t the grandness of the school that surprised her—how grand could such a small primary school possibly be? Rather, it was the sheer number of people. It was enrollment day, and groups of children aged from eight to their early teens gathered with their parents, giving the illusion of a vast crowd.

Having been sheltered all her life, Han Bingran had never seen such a scene. Her small exclamations were only natural, the innocent reaction of a child her age. Likewise, Han Bingyan and Han Bingruo were hardly more worldly than Bingran, their mouths agape in astonishment.

Was this really the school they would attend? Bingyan wondered. Truth be told, he still found it hard to believe. Why had his family suddenly agreed to let him attend school? And to be treated just like everyone else! However modest, it was a remarkable step forward for him.

All of it felt like a dream, and Bingyan was afraid that, upon waking, he would discover it was nothing more than a fantasy.

“Brother, come on… what are you daydreaming about?” Bingran tugged at her brother’s sleeve, urging him into the school grounds.

“Uh… oh…” Startled from his reverie, Bingyan hurried to catch up with Bingruo and Bingran, who were already ahead. As they walked, his eyes roamed curiously, drinking in every aspect of the unfamiliar environment.

At the registration area, a handful of desks and chairs had been pushed together to form a makeshift station, where several teachers sat in a row.

“Teacher, we’re here to register!” Bingran, ever cheerful, spoke up first, undaunted by strangers—perhaps unaware of the world's perils, with a child’s fearless innocence.

A female teacher in her thirties looked up, her gaze resting on Bingran’s lively face. With some doubt, she asked, “Little one, how old are you? You don’t look old enough for school. Where are your parents?”

Indeed, Bingran’s youthful face seemed no older than five, so the teacher’s question was understandable. And with only Bingran coming to register, what parent would let a five- or six-year-old sign up alone?

“Teacher, don’t you know you shouldn’t ask a lady’s age?” Bingran replied with mock seriousness.

The teacher nearly choked with laughter, “A lady? You? How old are you to call yourself a lady?”

“I’m already six, so of course I am!” Bingran pouted, clearly displeased by the implication that she was too young.

Bingruo nudged Bingyan, “Little Ran is adorably silly sometimes, isn’t she?”

Bingyan chuckled awkwardly.

“I’m sorry, but six is below our minimum enrollment age, so I can’t process your admission,” the teacher said.

“Why not? My mother told me to come to school,” Bingran protested, staring in disbelief.

“Teacher, she’s my sister. Our family sent us here to study,” Bingyan interjected, taking his sister’s hand.

“Which family are you from?” The teacher glanced at Bingyan, noting his clothes contrasted sharply with Bingran’s, and privately decided he must be lying. Still, it was no matter; she went through the motions and asked.

“The Han family!” Bingran answered, unwilling to be ignored.

“The Han family?” The teacher’s eyes widened briefly, then resumed their calm. She turned to confer with a colleague, and after a moment, smiled at the trio. “Your family is one of the school’s benefactors. We’ve contacted your parents and confirmed everything.”

“She’s your sister?” She pointed at Bingran. Bingyan nodded, and the teacher added, “She’s still very young, so as her brother, you’ll need to look after her.”

“Of course!” Bingyan replied. It was only natural for a brother to care for his sister.

“Very well, let’s get you registered.” They produced the necessary documents, and before long, the admissions process was complete. The three were assigned to the same class—unsurprising, as this year’s first-year students made up a single class. Along with them, five or six other Han children were also placed together.

Finding their classroom easily, the three entered, with Bingran leading the charge and choosing seats with the best location.

As Bingyan sat down, he sensed several strange glances. Looking back, he saw a group of tall students staring intently at him.

He recognized them instantly—they were other Han children, with Han Bingwu among them. The other four acted as his followers, always obeying him. Back at the Han compound, it was these boys who bullied Bingyan the most.

Bingyan was unfazed by Bingwu’s domineering stare; he likened it to being bitten by a dog—there was no point in trying to bite back.

But Bingyan’s indifference did not mean others felt the same. As he turned away, Bingran also noticed the unfriendly looks from behind. Unlike Bingyan, she did not respond gently. Her wide, watery eyes sharpened, and a gleam flashed, making Bingwu and his gang shudder.

Bingwu was baffled. Previously, when they bullied Bingyan, his sister Bingran would pretend not to see. Her intervention yesterday had already surprised them, and now, once again, she stood firm. When had the siblings become so united?

Grinding his teeth, Bingwu silently vowed to nurse his resentment against Bingyan—one day, he would have his revenge.

“Don’t be afraid of him, brother. That Bingwu only knows a few tricks and loves to show off. Hmph! He’s all bluster, still just a third-rate fighter—how dare he try to intimidate me?” Bingran scoffed.

To her, a first-level master of the Earthly Realm, a third-rate fighter was nothing but a petty thug.

Bingyan smiled wryly. A third-rate fighter? Even so, that was rare! An eight-year-old third-rate fighter would shock the martial world—normally, reaching that level by thirty was unusual. As for himself, he barely qualified as a novice.

Meanwhile, the young teacher at the front introduced various school matters to the children. Bingyan realized he had been apart from the group for far too long. Among the Han clan, he was not a martial artist, and a deep gulf separated him from the others. Now, in this new environment, he strove to fit in.

Thus ended the first day of school.