Transmigrating to Ancient Times to Open an Academy

“What? The Vice Minister of Rites is waiting outside? He wants his son enrolled? Get in line! So what if he’s the Vice Minister of Rites? The only son of the Minister of Personnel, the nephew of the Minister of War, and the son of the Minister of Revenue all show up on time every morning for drills and lessons. Don’t you know the rules? And you call yourself the Vice Minister of Rites. Have you no shame?” After delivering this smug tirade to Rong Guang, the marquis’s steward, Lu Zhengyuan turned around, glared furiously, and kicked the blue-robed servant standing nearby. “Wang Quan, you lazy dog! Did you go find the Crown Prince like I told you? Weren’t you supposed to ask His Majesty to write our academy’s name in his own hand and stamp it with the imperial seal?” Wang Quan tumbled several times from the kick. He got back up, dusted himself off, and grinned ingratiatingly. “Young Master, what a kick! The Crown Prince said... he did manage to sneak out a few samples of His Majesty’s handwriting. We can piece together the academy’s name from them. But I don’t know if the seal I forged will pass muster.” “...”