He had a pile of documents that he had painstakingly searched for, ranging from ancient Legalist books such as "Guanzi", "Hanfeizi", "Shangzi", "Dengxizi" and so on in the pre-Qin Dynasty, to the Jin Dynasty's "Collection of Suspicious Prisons" and some modern works. There are works.
Either he copied them from other people, or he spent money to buy them without telling his wife. Although the printing industry was very developed at that time, books were still a luxury that middle and lower families could not afford.
The school teacher looked at the volume he titled "Executioner": "Anyone who practices Dapi (death penalty) is called an executioner, and is commonly known as an executioner among the people. The executioner is also a cutter."
He flipped through the volume on "Beheading" again: "The punishment of beheading is an ancient punishment of the Zhou Dynasty. There are three punishments of Zhou Dynasty, namely chariot breaking, beheading, and killing. The murderer is beheaded. There are five punishments in the Sui Dynasty, namely flogging, Rod, disciple, flow, death,..."
The death penalty includes strangulation, beheading, beheading, hanging in the waist, etc., but he has a special liking for beheading.
Still something is missing.
The tutor bit the handle of his pen in frustration.
What's missing, what's missing, what's missing?
Suddenly, a chill ran down his back, and cold sweat instantly covered his back.
An idea suddenly appeared in his mind.
He was a little scared, but also a little excited, and his palms trembled slightly.
This idea, which had been lurking in my heart for a long time, suddenly sprouted and came to light at this moment.
He felt his lips were dry and his heart was beating hard against his chest.
Then he clenched his fists.
※※※
In the school, more than a dozen students were burying their heads, thinking hard and writing.
The tutor slowly walked between the students and disciples, looking at their necks.
The disciples all lowered their heads, just enough for him to see clearly.
He was muttering to himself, weighing.
"Master, the student has finished writing." One student raised his hand and said.
The tutor returned to his seat, and the student stepped forward and presented the article with both hands.
"Very good, go back to your seat and be silent."
"Yes, Master."
The disciple turned around and made a face, and there were bursts of snickers in the school.
The tutor doesn't mind, it doesn't matter to him, he has more important things to do.
He absentmindedly read Shengdu's articles, and as each article was presented to him, he had already made up his mind.
"Jin Feng is the stupidest." He thought.
The tutor folded the articles in his hands into a pile and put them all on the table: "get out of class can be over today."
Amidst the low-pitched cheers of the disciples, he added: "But Jin Feng has to stay. Your article is unreasonable. I will teach you well as a teacher."
The student named Jin Feng had an innocent look on his face. The classmates added insult to injury and patted him on the shoulder, then rushed outside to have fun.
Seeing that all the students and disciples had left, the tutor asked Jin Feng to sit down.
"Pick up the pen, read a sentence for the teacher, and you write a sentence."
"Yes, Master."
Jin Feng reluctantly sharpened his ink, picked up his pen, lowered his head, and prepared to write.
“Today’s topic for my teacher is ‘A gentleman is trustworthy and then works for his people’. You wrote it incomprehensibly, which shows that you haven’t studied well on weekdays.” The teacher said as he walked around behind the students. “Do you remember where this sentence comes from? ?”
"Returning to Master, it's the Analects of Confucius." Jin Feng replied.
The tutor nodded: "That's not bad... Just recite the chant and write it at the same time."
Jin Feng scratched his head, picked up his pen, and began to recite: "Zi Xia said..." before he started writing.
The pen suddenly pressed against the white paper, and he was panicking: "My handwriting is bad..."
Only then did he realize that the tip of his eyebrow hit the pen, and a large amount of red was splashed on the white paper.
Jin Feng didn't have time to feel his face hit the table, and his vision and consciousness were blurred in an instant.
※※※
"Where's Jin Feng?!"
On the second day of class, the private school teacher shouted like this.
The disciples were at a loss and looked at each other.
The teacher of the private school was sending an article from the previous day to Jin Feng. When he saw no response, he started shouting angrily.
Jin Feng is absent today.
"I don't go to school well on weekdays, but I dare not come today!"
He slapped Jin Feng's article on the case, and all the disciples shrank their necks, not daring to say a word.
The private school teacher was also very nervous. In the students' eyes, he looked like he was shaking with anger, but they didn't know that he was in a state of turmoil.
The day passed and it was afternoon again. It was almost time to let the disciples go home.
"Ziya," he said with a serious expression, "you have been looking around all day in class today."
The student named Ziya was stunned for a moment. Other students peeked at him, some of them snickering.
"Don't think I don't know," the tutor said, "You stay here, I will teach you well."
The other students dispersed, and the school suddenly became very quiet.
Ziya sat obediently in her seat, not daring to raise her head.
"Paper and pen ready."
The afternoon sun is very annoying in late summer.
The cicada nestled on the tree screamed at the top of its lungs, seeming to be singing an elegy for its dying life.
The wind blowing under the trees occasionally brings a chill.
It was very quiet in the school, very quiet, very quiet.
A series of footsteps suddenly broke the silence, and a certain student hurriedly ran into the school for some unknown reason.
"Master, forgive me, student," the disciple gasped, "Student originally made an appointment with Ziya to go to his house, but now..."
His breathing subsided a little, and his vision became clear.
Only then did he see the tutor's eyes were blood red, looking at him in fear.
He also saw the back of Ziya sitting at the main table behind the tutor. Ziya's upper body was lying on the table, but Ziya's head was standing on the corner of the table, her eyes were slightly closed, her lips were slightly open, and dripping water was dripping from the edge of the table. Deep red liquid.
He turned around and ran, but found that his legs were weak and he couldn't lift them up.
He subconsciously wanted to scream, but only indistinct murmurs came out of his throat.
The tutor was in an unusually calm mood at the moment. He stepped on the student's waist with one foot, pressed down the student's head with his left hand, and aimed his eyes at the neck.
"Between the occipital bone and the shoulder," he murmured to himself, "it must not go up or down, otherwise it will be difficult to break."
With previous experience, he knows how to control his strength better.
This time it was smooth, much smoother than before.
The obstacles the blade encountered became smaller, but he still felt unsatisfied.
He told himself: "This is a very valuable experience."
Valuable experiences should be written down.
He walked towards the copywriter, intending to write down his thoughts.
no!
He stopped and hesitated for a moment, looking at the copy and then at the two corpses in the classroom.
"There's still a chance," he told himself.
So, he started to clean up the classroom and make everything clean.
That night, he didn't waste lamp oil and climbed into bed early.
His wife was suspicious and turned around to stare at him curiously, but the tutor had fallen asleep peacefully and snored softly.
The night passed peacefully.
After replenishing his energy, the private school teacher was full of energy and tensed up his nerves to go to the private school.
When the students entered the school, they all looked a little confused because their seats had all been moved.
The two long tables that were originally arranged side by side in two rows have been moved to a staggered arrangement, that is, there are empty seats next to each table and the next door cannot be seen.
The disciples were confused and sat down one by one, preparing paper and pen.
"I noticed that your articles were very similar," the tutor said, "so I arranged the seats to prevent you from plagiarizing each other."
The students did not dare to express their opinions and started class obediently.
The private school teacher held a class for half an hour, as usual.
He finished teaching "The Thousand-Character Classic" and then taught a section of "Beginner's Notes".
"Today I am going to write an article about Confucius: "If you don't know life, how can you know death?"
The students prepared pens and paper, took water to grind ink, and began to write and meditate.
The smarter ones have written slowly on the paper.
The private school teacher was calm and relaxed, stroking his beard while slowly strolling around.
He walked behind the last disciple.
The disciple felt the pressure of the teacher standing behind him, and couldn't help but glance sideways secretly. When he caught the gaze of the private school teacher, he quickly turned back.
It took a while for the tutor to walk back to the front. He lowered his head and looked at his copywriting for a while, then turned around and walked back.
This time, he was ready.
He took the knife from his sleeve.
He also waited a moment to make sure that the disciple sitting at the back was not about to turn his head.
He took aim, calmly, calmly, accurately and skillfully, and slashed with one stroke.
He was satisfied, but he didn't dare to be complacent. He kept a humble heart and cut off the second knife.
The disciples sitting in the last two seats fell down, and the tutor knew that he was approaching the state of "cooking a ox and a ox".
His clever seating arrangement made it impossible for any disciple to see what was going on behind him.
But he still calculated wrongly.
The two corpses spurted out a large amount of blood, which quickly spread on the floor.
