Marrying a Wife and Concubine Together: After Rebirth, I Remarried the Scumbag's Father on the

Life at the Imperial Academy was a hundred times more unbearable than Mo Ziyu had imagined.

When the bell tolls at dawn, everyone must get up and recite the mantra, regardless of whether they slept well the night before.

Before dawn, oil lamps were lit in the schoolhouse. In the dim yellow light, the teacher paced back and forth with a ruler, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's. If anyone mispronounced a word or was distracted for even a moment, the ruler would slam down on the desk, startling them, followed by a stern reprimand.

Mo Ziyu grew up in the Jingcheng City Lord's Mansion. Although he had learned some basic writing, he had never been so restrained.

He was naturally lively and active, and after sitting for less than half an hour, he felt uncomfortable all over. He couldn't help but shake his legs and pick at the edges of the table with his fingers.

"Mo Ziyu!"

A sharp shout suddenly rang out, startling Mo Ziyu so much that his hand trembled, and he abruptly stood up, bumping the table with a soft thud.

The gentleman walked slowly to him, frowned, and said, "The sages said that there is a proper way to sit and a proper way to stand. What kind of manners are you, swaying from side to side like this?"

The surrounding students all turned to look, their gazes carrying a hint of watching a spectacle.

Mo Ziyu's cheeks flushed instantly, and his eyes welled up slightly, but he forced back his tears. He lowered his head and whispered, "This student knows his mistake."

The teacher snorted coldly and said, "You shall recite the Analects we learned today."

Mo Ziyu stammered and stumbled over a few lines before getting stuck. Last night, he had been so busy playing with Xiaobai that he hadn't paid any attention to the difficult scripture.

Seeing this, the teacher's face darkened further. He swung the ruler, which landed heavily on the ground beside Mo Ziyu, making a crisp sound: "You are a piece of rotten wood that cannot be carved! Your punishment is to copy the Analects ten times and hand it in before sunset!"

Mo Ziyu trembled with fright, and tears finally streamed down her face, splashing onto her clothes and leaving a small water stain.

This is just the beginning.

For Mo Ziyu, the days that followed felt like an eternity.

The afternoon lessons in the Six Arts were even more grueling than reciting the classics. In the archery and horsemanship class, the teacher required them to stand in front of the target, holding the heavy bow and arrow, for an hour at a time. Their arms ached so much that they could barely lift them, and if they relaxed even slightly, they would be scolded by Teacher Wu.

Mo Ziyu was still young and weak, so he couldn't hold the hard bow. Before long, his arms trembled and the arrowhead went crooked, which drew a good scolding from Mr. Wu.

The etiquette lessons were even more complicated. Every movement, from cupping hands to bowing and kneeling, had strict rules. The height of raising the hands and the angle of bending over had to be exactly the same.

Mo Ziyu's memory was not very good to begin with, so how could he remember so many rules? He made mistakes repeatedly and was punished by his teacher to stand aside and watch the other students practice. He felt extremely wronged.

He missed the days at the Zhan residence, missed Zhan Miao's gentle smile, and missed the pastries his great-aunt had prepared for him.

He misses even more the white wolf that always rubbed its head against the back of his hand.

At the Zhan residence, he could chase butterflies in the courtyard, climb trees to raid bird nests, and roll around on the grass with Xiaobai. There were no rules or reprimands like there were at all.

The food at the Imperial Academy was far less delicious than that at the Zhan Mansion.

Every day was filled with simple meals, bland vegetables, and occasionally even grit in the rice.

Mo Ziyu was a picky eater, so he couldn't eat any of this and often went hungry all day.

Most of his classmates were well-behaved scions of respectable families, each holding a book of Confucian classics, looking mature and composed. No one wanted to talk to him, the unruly transfer student.

Mo Ziyu often sat alone in a corner, staring blankly at the pine and cypress trees outside the window. The grievances and resistance in his heart accumulated little by little, making it hard for him to breathe.

He could only endure such oppressive days for three days before he could no longer bear it.

That afternoon, the teacher had to attend to something unexpected and instructed the students to study in the dormitory and not to go out. As soon as the teacher left, the dormitory became quiet, with only the rustling sound of pens scratching across bamboo slips.

Mo Ziyu sat behind his desk, staring at the thick stack of bamboo slips before him, feeling dizzy. He bit his lip, and a sudden thought popped into his head: run out!

Once this thought pops up, it grows wildly like weeds and can no longer be suppressed.

He quietly raised his head and looked around. His classmates were all engrossed in their studies, and no one noticed him. He listened carefully again, but there was no sound of the teacher's footsteps outside the door.

Don't miss out.

Mo Ziyu's heart pounded like a rabbit in his chest. He quietly stood up, tiptoed, and moved step by step toward the school gate. Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge, as if he were afraid to make the slightest sound.

Finally, he moved to the doorway, and just as his hand touched the latch, he heard a soft cough from the next table.

Mo Ziyu was so frightened that he froze, held his breath, and looked back. He saw that the student simply rubbed his throat and then lowered his head to read his book again.

He breathed a sigh of relief, quickly pulled off the latch, gently pushed the door open a crack, and slipped out.

The sunlight outside was perfect, bathing her in its warmth. A gentle breeze carried the fresh scent of grass and trees. Mo Ziyu took a deep breath, feeling completely refreshed, as if she had broken free of invisible shackles.

He didn't dare to delay, so he took off running along the base of the wall.

He dared not use the main gate, choosing instead secluded paths and venturing into the densest foliage. The wind whistled past his ears, carrying the scent of freedom, and he ran until he was breathless, yet dared not stop for a moment.

As the high walls of the Imperial College gradually receded into the distance behind him, Mo Ziyu's heart began to leap with joy.

He wanted to go back to the Zhan family mansion, to find his aunt, to find Little White, and to find that gentle white wolf.

He never wanted to stay in this cold, impersonal place again, never wanted to read those difficult scriptures again, and never wanted to be bound by those harsh constraints again.

After running for who knows how long, we finally saw the streets outside the Imperial College.

Mo Ziyu slowed his pace, leaned against the wall, and gasped for breath, but a long-lost smile appeared on his face.

Sunlight shone on his sweaty little face, making his eyes sparkle like they held a sky full of stars.

He didn't know that at that moment, Zhan Miao was preparing his favorite snacks at the Zhan residence, waiting for him to return from school; he also didn't know what kind of trouble his running away would cause.

All he knew was that at that moment, he was free and happy.

He wiped the sweat from his face and strode towards the Zhan residence.

Mo Ziyu was filled with the joy of escaping the Imperial Academy, and even his steps became lighter.

He dared not take the main roads, but instead chose to wander through narrow alleys and lanes, for fear of being found by the teachers of the Imperial Academy or the servants of the Zhan family.

The warm spring sun filtered through the old locust tree at the alley entrance, casting dappled light and shadows that fell on his fair and handsome face.

Mo Ziyu was exceptionally beautiful, with bright, clear eyes, a small, straight nose, and naturally cherry-pink lips. Combined with her delicate, fair skin, she appeared even more exquisite than the average young girl from afar.

He was walking with his head down, thinking about how to apologize to Zhan Miao when he got back, when suddenly two tall men blocked his way.