When the autumn wind blew, it was the season when drowsiness came most easily.
In the alley at daybreak, the schoolchildren yawned one after another, dragging their feet, their eyelids drooping listlessly.
Their accompanying pageboys and maids hovered carefully beside them, afraid their young masters and mistresses might stumble in a moment of grogginess.
No one noticed the little Daoist boy who had appeared behind them, silently trailing along.
He stepped over the threshold, crossed the courtyard, entered the room, and sat properly at the rearmost desk.
Taking the Thousand Character Classic from his cloth bag, he opened it and joined the roomful of voices in their morning reading. His voice was quiet, but he recited every word with utmost care.
It was between seven and nine in the morning.
The schoolchildren went up to the teacher one by one to learn new material.
Jin Si studied the black mole on the back of the neck of the classmate ahead of him. Finding it amusing, he could not resist another look. Just then, the second child farther ahead happened to turn around. His face...
Something seemed a little strange.
The child's complexion looked normal, but to Jin Si, it seemed veiled in a faint layer of soot from the bottom of a pot, carrying an indescribable gloom.
According to folk beliefs, a face like that probably meant a new death in the family. The boy might soon have to wear deep mourning.
Jin Si withdrew his gaze without saying anything. It had nothing to do with him, so he put it out of his mind.
After taking two strokes of the teacher's ruler across his palm, he returned to his seat and buried himself in reading and learning characters.
An idle glance around revealed that his classmates had all changed