The Great Song Dynasty: You were put in charge of teaching, and you produced a whole bunch of prime

Outside Runzhou City, in the desolate western suburbs.

The autumn wind, like a cruel stepmother, whipped the dilapidated academy with withered yellow leaves. The half-open gate creaked and groaned, as if singing a final elegy for this ruined temple called "Jingshi Academy".

Through the cracked window frame, one could vaguely see the distant city of Runzhou—with wine flags waving and smoke rising from chimneys, a scene of bustling prosperity.

Unfortunately, that excitement belonged to someone else.

All that was left for Jiang Lin was the shocking deficit in the ledger in front of him and the knee-high withered grass covering the yard.

Jiang Lin sat at the stone table, holding a chipped, rough porcelain teacup in his hand. He gazed intently at the hazy sky, as if pondering the ultimate mysteries of the universe, or perhaps contemplating the minimalism of Song Dynasty aesthetics.

In reality, he was cursing under his breath.

"You've transmigrated, fine, but at least give me a bowl! Starting with a debt of 500 strings of cash? Who wrote this script? Come out here, I promise I won't kill you!"

Three days ago, he was an associate professor in the history department of a prestigious university in the 21st century, lounging on the sofa complaining about the brainless screenwriters of melodramatic historical dramas. He woke up to find himself transported to the first year of the Jiayou era of the Song Dynasty, becoming this unlucky young headmaster.

The original owner's father was an honest and simple old scholar who had spent half his life running a school but had not saved any money. Instead, he had accumulated a huge debt to repair this dilapidated house.

Now that his father has passed away, he has left this mess to his only son, Jiang Lin.

"Five hundred strings of cash..."

Jiang Lin sighed, his fingertips tracing the cool rim of the teacup.

Based on current prices in the Song Dynasty, this amount of money would be enough for him to patronize the top courtesan at the best "Fanlou" in Runzhou City for three years, or buy two hundred acres of prime paddy fields and become a happy landlord, living a blissful life of "withered vines, old trees, and crows at dusk, with fish and shrimp for dinner."

Now, that money has become a Damocles' sword hanging over his head.

"Bang--!"

A loud bang interrupted Jiang Lin's melancholy.

The already barely respectable courtyard gate was kicked open. The rotten wooden planks let out their final scream, kicking up a cloud of choking dust that danced wildly in the beams of the setting sun.

A fat man with a face full of scars and a belly as big as if he were ten months pregnant, led five burly thugs wielding sticks, barging in like a group of domineering crabs.

"Jiang Shanchang! Stop hiding inside and pretending to be dead! I know you're there!"

The fat man roared, causing dust to fall from the roof beams and even making the roof tiles tremble.

The man who arrived was none other than the creditor, Manager Wang of Hongyun Money Shop. He was known as "Wang the Skinflint," a ruthless character whose name even the children of Runzhou City dared not cry upon hearing it.

Jiang Lin frowned slightly, gently brushed away a speck of dust from the cuff of his blue robe, and then slowly stood up.

He ignored the menacing thugs, instead focusing his gaze on Fatty Wang's jiggling fat. His tone was as flat as stagnant water, showing no remorse whatsoever for a debtor:

"Manager Wang, the door is broken, you need to pay for it."

Fatty Wang was taken aback.

He imagined Jiang Lin kneeling down and begging for mercy, crying and clinging to his leg, calling him grandpa, or even crawling out through the dog hole in the back wall like a rat to escape.

The only thing I never imagined was that even as this poor, penniless scholar was about to die, he was still heartbroken over that broken door.

"I'll pay your grandma!"

Wang Pangzi, realizing what had happened, felt insulted and spat a mouthful of phlegm onto the ground. He rushed to the stone table, his greasy face almost touching Jiang Lin's nose, spitting as he spoke.

"Stop talking nonsense! The three-day deadline is up. Hand over the five hundred strings of cash, principal and interest!"

The five thugs worked in perfect harmony, banging their batons loudly. Some kicked the stone benches in the yard, while others pounded on the already fragile window frames with sticks, making threatening "bang" sounds.

This is the standard procedure for violent debt collection.

Jiang Lin was extremely flustered.

"System Daddy? System Bro? Are you there? If you don't come out soon, your host is going to be turned into char siu bao!"

My mind was completely silent; there was no system, not even a single echo.

Jiang Lin took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the panic in his heart. His more than twenty years of teaching experience in his previous life had taught him that he couldn't show weakness, especially in situations like this. When it comes to presence, the weaker you are, the stronger they become.

He lifted the hem of his long robe, sat back down on the stone bench, and even picked up the cup of cold, leftover tea and took a sip, his movements as elegant as if he were savoring a tribute tea bestowed by the emperor.

"Manager Wang, how about giving us a few more days? The students' tuition fees will arrive in a few days."

Jiang Lin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an inexplicable calmness, as if he owed a favor, not money.

"Grace period?"

Fatty Wang laughed as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world, pointing at the desolate, haunted house-like surroundings, his fat jiggling with laughter.

"Jiang Lin, do you take me for a three-year-old? Even stray dogs wouldn't dare come into this dilapidated temple to pee, so where would you get students? Tuition fees, you say? I think it's just the northwest wind blowing through this whole courtyard!"

He slammed his hand on the stone table, splashing tea everywhere and wetting Jiang Lin's clothes.

"By noon the day after tomorrow! If I don't see the money, I'll tear down this dilapidated yard to pay off the debt! This land may be remote, but it can still fetch a good price if sold to the neighboring Wenchang Academy to expand their stables!"

After saying that, Fatty Wang snorted coldly and turned to leave. Just before leaving, he turned back and glared fiercely at Jiang Lin, his eyes filled with malice.

"Don't even think about running. Runzhou City isn't that big. Where can you run to? Even if you run all the way to Bianjing, I'll still catch you and burn you alive!"

A group of people left, cursing and swearing, leaving behind a mess and a half-open door that was still swaying.

Jiang Lin looked at the mess on the ground and his lips twitched.

"Expand the stables? These uncultured nouveau riche are an insult to education. At least a public toilet should be built in this area to break even!"

He complained, but he knew in his heart that Fatty Wang wasn't joking. If he didn't get those 500 strings of cash, he would be sleeping on the streets by this time the day after tomorrow, and he would also face the risk of being sold into forced labor.

Just then, a series of loud hoofbeats and laughter came from outside the courtyard gate.

"Oh, isn't this Jiang Shanchang? What's this? Someone's come to collect a debt? Why is the door lying on the ground? Is it there to welcome this young master?"

Jiang Lin looked up.

Several young men dressed in fine clothes rode by on horseback. The one in the lead had a handsome face, was waving a folding fan, and had a mocking smile on his lips.

Wang Shichang.

The eldest son of the Wang family, the richest family in Runzhou, is also a "top student" at the neighboring Wenchang Academy. He is also the original owner of this body's mortal enemy; the two have been competing since childhood, with the original owner losing more often than winning.

Wang Shichang reined in his horse, looking down at Jiang Lin, who was in a slightly disheveled state in the courtyard, his eyes filled with a sense of superiority, like a cat playing with a mouse.

"Jiang Lin, my father said that as long as you are willing to sign the indenture, we will take this land, and the Wang family will pay off your five hundred guan debt. They might even give you ten guan for travel expenses so you can go back to the countryside to farm and marry a village girl to live out your remaining years."

His lackeys behind him immediately burst into laughter:

"Young master is so kind! Ten strings of cash is a lot; it's enough for this poor wretch to buy two pigs to raise!"

"Hahaha, Jiang Shan is a master at raising pigs! After all, he's turned this academy into something resembling a pigsty!"

Jiang Lin quietly watched this group of arrogant and domineering rich kids.

Behind them, one could see the Wenchang Academy in the distance, with its flying eaves and brackets, and vermilion gate. The entrance was filled with luxurious carriages that picked up and dropped off students, and the students coming and going were all dressed smartly and chatting happily.

Looking at my own place, it was all broken walls and overgrown weeds, so bad that even a rat would find it unbearable.

The contrast is stark.

Jiang Lin put down his teacup and gave Wang Shichang a standard, scholarly smile—the kind of smile he used in college to deal with students who failed their courses and wanted to plead for leniency.

"Young Master Wang, please go back and tell your father that this piece of land has excellent feng shui, a 'hidden dragon in the abyss' formation, which is likely to produce a top scholar. I'm not selling it because I'm afraid it will bring misfortune to your Wang family. If you were to die suddenly one day, my conscience wouldn't allow it."

Wang Shichang's face stiffened, his smile froze instantly, and then he let out a series of cold laughs:

"You're stubborn as a mule! Let's see what you'll use to pay back the money the day after tomorrow! When this courtyard is demolished, I'll build a latrine on this very spot, so your academy will be infamous for eternity!"

"drive!"

With that, he flicked his whip and rode off with his entourage. The dust kicked up by the horses' hooves once again covered Jiang Lin's face.

"Pooh."

Jiang Lin spat out the sand in his mouth, his smile vanishing instantly, replaced by a look of utter dejection and despair.

"Oh no, I've gone way too far with my bragging."

He groaned inwardly. His current situation was: no money, no system, no connections, not even anyone to confide in. It was a hellish start; they weren't even giving him a beginner's gift pack?

As the sun sets, the afterglow is like blood.

Jiang Lin stood at the dilapidated courtyard gate, watching his long shadow being stretched and distorted, a deep sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart.

Does this mean that we're already packing our bags and leaving right after we've transmigrated here?

"gentlemen."

A clear voice suddenly rang out from behind.

Jiang Lin froze, his hair standing on end.

Someone's here? Wasn't this dilapidated academy deserted long ago? Who would stay here except for ghosts?

He slowly turned his head around.

The afterglow of the setting sun spilled onto the open space in front of the lecture hall, gilding it with a golden edge. Three teenagers stood side by side, as if standing in the light.

The boy standing in the middle was about sixteen or seventeen years old. His brows exuded a compelling heroic spirit. Although he was wearing a patched coarse cloth long gown, his eyes were frighteningly bright, as if they contained stars.

The one on the left is slightly older, calm and reserved, with a sturdy build, like an uncarved piece of jade.

The one on the right is the youngest and looks a bit shy, keeping his head down the whole time, but when he occasionally looks up, his eyes are unusually firm.

Jiang Lin was stunned.

For the past three days, he has been sorting through his memories. He vaguely remembers that there were indeed three poor students in the academy who had not paid their tuition and were lingering there, but he had no interest in dealing with them and assumed they had already run away.

"Why...are you still here?"

Jiang Lin asked a question subconsciously.

Wang Pangzi made such a scene, and Wang Shichang humiliated them so much; any normal person would have run away long ago. Are these three kids stupid?

The dashing young man in the middle stepped forward, straightened his worn clothes, and respectfully bowed deeply to Jiang Lin. Following his gesture, the other two young men also bowed in unison.

"How dare I leave while my teacher remains?"

The young man straightened up, his gaze fixed intently on Jiang Lin, his voice clear and strong, brimming with youthful vigor:

"Just now, I witnessed the gentleman's composure in the face of villains and his unwavering integrity in the face of the powerful. His remark, 'Too much feng shui might shorten one's lifespan,' was so scathing and incisive! I was deeply moved and wanted to applaud him!"

"My two brothers and I have discussed this, and if you, sir, do not mind, I am willing to live and die with the academy!"

Jiang Lin was a little stunned by this sudden surge of enthusiasm. Survival to the death? I want money, kid!

He gave a wry smile and waved his hand, "It's good that you have the intention. But I can't even remember all your names... You should all go home."

Upon hearing this, the boy straightened his back, a hint of arrogance on his face, and said loudly:

"This is Su Shi from Meishan! This is my younger brother Su Zhe, and that is Zeng Gong from Nanfeng!"

"Please teach me, sir!"

The wind stopped.

The teacup in Jiang Lin's hand fell to the ground with a "crack" and shattered into pieces.

He stared blankly at the three seemingly ordinary teenagers in front of him, his mind reeling as if a hundred elephants were stampeding through his head.

Meishan... Su Shi? Su Zhe? Zeng Gong?

These are hardly three poor students.

This is half of the literary world of the Song Dynasty!