Volume One, Chapter 10: Dimensional Strike—The Proud Young Lady's Defenses Shattered!

“What kind of game is this?” Zhang Jingshu blinked her big, dark eyes, curiously studying Chen Pingchuan.

But Chen Pingchuan didn’t rush to answer. He picked up a brush and, right before the eyes of Zhang Jinbao and Zhang Jingshu, began to draw at a leisurely pace.

What appeared on the paper was no longer the simple tic-tac-toe grid, but a much larger board with many more squares—a brand new game.

“This game is called ‘Five-in-a-Row,’” Chen Pingchuan explained simply, using words a child could understand. “Whoever gets five pieces of their color in a row—whether horizontally, vertically, or diagonally—wins.”

Zhang Jingshu pouted, letting out a dismissive snort. “So what if there are more squares? I can still beat you!”

That little girl was as boastful as ever. Amused, Chen Pingchuan gestured for her to give it a try.

Brimming with confidence, Zhang Jingshu snatched up the brush and eagerly began to play. Yet, after only a few moves, her delicate brows furrowed.

She soon realized that Five-in-a-Row was far more intricate than tic-tac-toe! The larger board meant many more possibilities. But at the same time, threats from her opponent lurked everywhere. It was no longer as simple as sizing up the situation at a glance.

The clever tricks she once relied on in tic-tac-toe were utterly useless here.

Chen Pingchuan played slowly, each move deliberate, as if weaving an invisible net across the board.

Soon, Zhang Jingshu found herself flustered and overwhelmed. No sooner had she blocked one seemingly dangerous spot than Chen Pingchuan’s pieces connected elsewhere.

She could only chase after his moves, completely led by the nose.

In just a short while, Zhang Jingshu lost three games in a row.

She stared dazedly at the row of pieces Chen Pingchuan had lined up, then glanced at his calm, unbothered expression, as if he hadn’t even exerted himself.

A wave of unprecedented defeat surged in her heart. Her usually proud little face flushed bright red.

Back at home, she was the prodigy everyone praised! Yet today, she’d been thoroughly beaten by this country bumpkin from the countryside—completely and utterly.

Chen Pingchuan pointed to the board, his voice even and steady.

“See here, and here—you made mistakes in both places.”

“If you’d blocked these two points earlier...” Chen Pingchuan methodically pointed out her errors, making Zhang Jingshu’s cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Never in her life had anyone told her so bluntly, “You were wrong here, and there too”—especially not someone she so thoroughly looked down upon, a rustic farm boy!

A hot surge of grievance and frustration erupted within her, almost like a little volcano.

Her eyes grew red.

“Waaah—!”

Suddenly, the little girl burst into tears. Great fat tears fell like strings of broken pearls.

“I don’t want to play anymore! I’m obviously so much smarter than my brother… so why did I lose?” she sobbed, twisting away and running out into the courtyard.

Her pink figure quickly disappeared behind the moon gate. From afar, her tearful cry echoed back, “I’ll never play with you again!”

Zhang Jinbao watched his sister run off in tears, his chubby face turning pale with fright. He panicked. “Oh no, oh no, she’s definitely going to tell Mother on us!”

Chen Pingchuan merely curled his lip. That little girl really couldn’t accept losing.

A pampered, spoiled little darling like her needed a taste of disappointment.

Just then, a figure strolled over at a measured pace. It was Mr. Fang, holding a scroll in his hand.

He immediately noticed Zhang Jingshu running out of the study in tears, then his gaze swept over to the paper in front of Zhang Jinbao and Chen Pingchuan.

It was covered in circles, crosses, and the newly drawn, larger Five-in-a-Row board.

Mr. Fang’s face darkened at once, like thunderclouds before a storm.

What he hated most in life were such “idle amusements”! In his eyes, studying was the most proper pursuit in the world, leaving no room for frivolity.

To succeed, one had to work a hundred times harder—who had time to waste on such things?

“Hmph, playthings corrupt the will!” he snorted inwardly, casting a sharp, disapproving glance at Chen Pingchuan.

“It must be this new servant boy—rather than guiding the young master in his studies, he’s introducing all sorts of nonsense games to distract him! He’s even made the young lady cry!”

“How could such a servant possibly be fit to assist the young master in learning?”

His first impression of Chen Pingchuan couldn’t have been worse.

He coughed heavily, then strode into the study.

“The hour has come. Let’s begin today’s lesson,” he announced, pausing before adding stiffly, “Continue reviewing the ‘Three Character Classic’…”

Inside the study, Chen Pingchuan stood quietly to the side, following proper etiquette.

Mr. Fang opened the slightly yellowed book and began to lead the reading, swaying his head in rhythm.

“Human nature at birth is good…”

His voice rose and fell with a certain cadence, but it was dry as dust.

Chen Pingchuan couldn’t help but curl his lip. This old man’s teaching was even more soporific than the dullest elective professor at his university.

Zhang Jinbao sat upright at the desk. At first, he forced his eyes wide, trying to look attentive.

But before long, his head began to nod, bobbing like a pecking chick. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier.

Not a word of the “zhihuzheye” droning from Mr. Fang’s mouth sank in.

Soon, he was about to slip into a dream—perhaps to play Five-in-a-Row with the Duke of Zhou himself.

“Zhang Jinbao!”

A thunderous shout cracked through the air. Mr. Fang’s ruler slammed onto the desk with a loud smack.

Startled, Zhang Jinbao jerked upright, the last traces of sleep instantly banished.

“I told you to recite! And you were dozing off!”

Mr. Fang was so furious his beard quivered with anger.

“When you were drawing all those ridiculous things just now, you didn’t seem tired! Did you?”

“For this, you will copy today’s lesson ten times!”

Chen Pingchuan watched Mr. Fang’s teaching methods and Zhang Jinbao’s reactions, missing not a single detail.

He pondered quietly.

This Mr. Fang certainly had knowledge and could explain the classics well. But his force-feeding approach was unbearably dull.

Over and over, it was just reciting and memorizing. Even a child with interest in learning would be bored to sleep, let alone someone like Zhang Jinbao who didn’t love studying in the first place.

At this rate, was it any wonder that children grew to hate reading?

Studying to death, deadening the mind with study, dying for study alone—perhaps these sayings were born from scenes just like this.

Clearly, he would have to find a way to help Zhang Jinbao learn. Otherwise, there’d be no way to answer to Zhang Shengcai.