Chapter 416: If Life Is Not Joyful
(Chapter Two.)
Three moons hung in the sky.
This was a sight absolutely unseen in the Haoran World.
Pure moonlight poured freely between heaven and earth, illuminating the myriad great mountains as if they were covered in thick snow.
However, amidst the endless ranges of mountains, there was a rustling sound that could easily travel for hundreds of miles.
If an immortal were able to freely ride the wind amidst the sea of clouds and look down, they would see golden-armored puppets as tall as mountain peaks, slowly moving great mountains as they trudged along.
There were also some ancient remnant beasts, their bodies thousands of zhang long, covered in scars, all without exception driven by golden-armored puppets wielding long whips, serving as menial laborers, toiling without complaint, dragging the mountains along.
Occasionally, some desolate remnant beasts, granted a brief respite, exhausted, used some peaks as pillows, sleeping soundly. The innate ferocity they were born with had long been worn away by the endless, harsh years.
This scene, in this world, could only be passed down by word of mouth, becoming distorted with hearsay, far from the truth.
Because no one dared to casually fly over the skies of these myriad great mountains.
In the long history, there had indeed been some great demons of the Upper Five Realms who refused to believe the rumors, and were then dragged down by countless golden puppets, eventually becoming one of those laboring great demons, turning into enormous skeletons permanently sleeping in the mountains, unable to even reincarnate.
At the summit of the mountains, there was a dilapidated thatched hut. Behind the hut was a vegetable patch, with rare greenery. The hut was surrounded by a crooked wooden fence. A scrawny watchdog lay at the door, panting slightly.
A thin, frail old man stood in the open space outside the door, facing the mountains. He reached up and scratched his cheek, not knowing what he was thinking.
That skinny dog suddenly stood up, darted out, and barked fiercely in a certain direction.
A violent gale, shaped like a tornado, swept out mightily, directly blasting apart a large swath of dark clouds that obscured one of the moons.
The old man remained unmoved.
After the sea of clouds shattered, all around the base of this mountain, on the ground, golden-armored puppets stood up, each holding exaggerated weapons matching their size, including white bones of ancient beasts used as spears.
One of those golden-armored puppets threw the white bone spear in its hand into the sky. Thunder rolled, as if bearing the power to split heaven and earth.
The spear shot straight at two figures, as small as grains of rice, far away in the sky.
Those two visitors from afar both appeared in human form.
One was a tall old man, wearing a bright red robe. On the surface of the robe, ripples surged, a sea of blood rolled, and vaguely, ferocious faces emerged on the robe, trying to reach out their hands from the sea, but quickly disappeared, swallowed by the blood.
This burly old man wore a pitch-black belt of unknown material, inlaid with fragments of swords.
Beside the old man was a younger man, with a youthful face. At his waist hung two long swords, one on each side, and on his back was a slanted white sword case, with the hilts of three swords exposed.
Seeing the spear about to break through the air, the young man’s eyes burned with passion, but not for the spear—rather for the old man on the mountain peak, who had his back to them.
That spear, full of momentum, was merely glanced at by the red-robed old man, and it turned to powder, scattering all around.
The other sharp weapons thrown were the same; they shattered before even getting close.
The red-robed old man was somewhat annoyed. Not because of this wave of attacks blocking him, but because he was angry at the old blind man’s hospitality—he looked down on them too much. Just sending these golden-armored puppets was an insult; at least he should release those old friends from the cages underground, and that would be somewhat acceptable.
The red-robed old man sneered coldly, “Old Blind Man, don’t tell me you’ve lived in someone else’s territory so long that you’ve forgotten who the master is? You’re giving me this to scratch my itch?!”
With that, he slapped his palm out, and a golden-armored puppet on the ground was instantly smashed deep into the earth, raising clouds of dust.
He didn’t stop striking. On the ground, a series of sounds like firecrackers rang out. One by one, those majestic, mountain-like golden-armored puppets were all slapped out of sight.
The short old man on the mountain peak turned his head, “looking” at those two great demons who stood at the pinnacle of this world.
His eye sockets were empty, like two bottomless dark abysses.
This short old man, called Old Blind Man, was still scratching his cheek.
Logically speaking, if it were the same Thirteenth Realm cultivators, or those rare hidden Fourteenth Realm ones, fighting in their own home territory, unless outsiders brought some unreasonable weapons—of course, such things were few and far between across all worlds, besides the four swords, such as a White Jade Capital, a string of Buddhist beads, or a book, aside from that, within one’s own world, one was generally invincible, and could even kill the opponent.
Especially after entering the first lost realm of the Second Layer, if one was bored enough to go fool around in another world, being suppressed by that world’s Dao rules was the most “natural” thing.
But heaven and earth are vast; there are always a few exceptions—what’s strange about that?
For example, this Old Blind Man, an outsider in the Barren Wasteland World, had managed to live even more freely than the masters.
Another example was that stinky Daoist from the Haoran World.
The Old Blind Man said hoarsely, “It would be more appropriate to send that one over to talk. As for the two of you, if you still stand that high, I won’t be polite.”
That “young man” carrying five swords smiled.
As the youngest sword cultivator in the Upper Five Realms among great demons, he had participated in that earth-shattering battle, and had even defeated a sword immortal from the Sword Qi Great Wall, forcing the latter to become one of the gatekeepers of the Hanging Mountain.
He thought that the Old Blind Man under his feet was indeed very powerful, but not to the point of being lawless.
The red-robed old man’s face was clouded, his fierce and murderous aura almost causing the river of time around them to stagnate.
But in the end, he only let out a cold snort and turned to leave.
That young, battle-honored sword immortal great demon hesitated slightly, and in his heart lake, he heard a slightly anxious voice, “Quickly go!”
Suddenly, a huge pulling force swept over this sword immortal great demon.
The sword immortal great demon was just about to take this opportunity to draw his sword and meet the Old Blind Man, but he found that the red-robed old man roared angrily, grabbed his shoulder, and flung him upward toward the sky.
Then the red-robed old man waved his wide sleeve, rolling out a surging river of blood, trying to interrupt the aura that had already targeted the younger sword cultivator.
Heaven and earth turned upside down, the aura chaotic.
Feeling a suffocating pressure of Dao weight on his shoulders, the red-robed old man’s expression changed slightly. He swung his sleeves vigorously, a river of blood nearly gathering into a huge lake. He said fiercely, “Old Blind Man, do you believe I will destroy your Myriad Great Mountains?!”
The Old Blind Man stopped scratching his cheek.
At that moment, a majestic voice entered this extremely large “small world,” “Enough.”
The red-robed old man stopped angrily, withdrew his divine power, and the river of blood returned to his sleeve.
The Old Blind Man reached out and grabbed the sword immortal great demon, pulling him to his feet. He crouched down, and the young great demon, full of shock, found himself unable to move. The short old man reached into his eye socket and plucked out an eyeball, put it in his mouth and chewed, then turned his head and spat it onto the ground. As a result, that skinny old dog, drooling, sprinted over and swallowed it in one gulp.
The Old Blind Man stood up, flicked his toe, and kicked the one-eyed sword immortal great demon into the air. “This is out of respect for you.”
Heaven and earth returned to silence.
The Old Blind Man put his hands behind his back and walked toward the courtyard gate. Looking at that old dog, he sneered, “A dog can’t change its habit of eating shit.”
He raised his hand again to scratch his cheek, then turned and walked to the edge of the cliff. He always felt that some parts of the “brushwork” on this scroll needed to be reduced or added.
He just stood there.
Suddenly, the Old Blind Man frowned. He hesitated for a moment, his fingers moving slightly. Those golden-armored puppets, which had risen again, sat back down.
The guests this time were an old man and a young woman, from the Sword Qi Great Wall.
The Old Blind Man showed a smile to the travel-worn young woman that even he felt was awkward. Anyone who saw it would only find it sinister and terrifying.
Then he turned his head to look at the old man and said angrily, “Chen Qingdu, don’t bother me! This time, I’m not helping anyone!”
The great sword immortal of the Sword Qi Great Wall, Chen Qingdu.
Chen Qingdu asked, “Are you still a human?”
The Old Blind Man replied, “Ask yourself, are we still human?”
Chen Qingdu nodded. “I am.”
The Old Blind Man was silent for a moment, then asked, “No matter how fiercely the two worlds fight, can it be fiercer than back then? At worst, it will only smash that ‘One’ even more broken. That was the case back then; after a thousand years or ten thousand years, how much can it change? Isn’t the world still the same damn thing? What’s the point? Maybe it would be better to completely overturn and smash it, to start anew.”
Chen Qingdu said, “It serves you right to be blind.”
The Old Blind Man suddenly laughed. “Better than you, a watchdog selling your life for others. When the cunning hare dies, the good hound is boiled. Once wasn’t enough? You want to taste it again? I see that you, the descendants of convicts, ended up in today’s situation because people like you, Chen Qingdu, dragged them down. I’ve stayed here so long; do you know why I’ve never been willing to look north? I’m afraid that seeing the biggest joke under heaven would make me laugh myself to death.”
The Old Blind Man pointed at the trembling old dog at the courtyard gate. “Look at you, Chen Qingdu. How are you any better than it?”
The Old Blind Man shifted his gaze to the young woman and said hoarsely with a smile, “Ning girl, don’t be upset. It has nothing to do with you. You are still very good.”
Ning Yao remained silent.
Chen Qingdu soon took Ning Yao away.
The Old Blind Man sighed softly. He no longer had the mood to appreciate the unfinished landscape scroll. He walked toward the courtyard gate, saw the old dog groveling and sticking out its tongue, and suddenly stomped heavily on its spine. It whimpered and begged for mercy. The Old Blind Man directly crushed the spine of this ancient great demon, whose vitality was extremely tenacious. Anyway, with that young great demon’s eyeball, it would recover quickly.
The Old Blind Man muttered to himself as he entered the courtyard.
On the wall of the Sword Qi Great Wall.
The great sword immortal sat cross-legged, while Ning Yao drank wine.
Chen Qingdu said calmly, “Don’t take offense on my behalf. Old Blind Man was the one most hurt back then. So it wasn’t as the outside world rumored—that he lost his eyes in a great battle with the ancestral demon of the Barren Wasteland World. Rather, a long time ago, he gouged out his own eyeballs. One was thrown into the Haoran World, the other into the Qing Ming World. The reason I went to find him this time was to hear him say with my own ears that he ‘won’t help anyone.’ That’s already very good.”
Ning Yao nodded.
Ning Yao drank half a jug of wine, then turned to look at the great sword immortal.
Chen Qingdu laughed angrily. “Ning girl, I’m not talking about you. You should go back to your own home and have a look. This is old man Chen’s territory; there’s no reason for you to drive me away.”
Although he said this, the old man still jumped off the wall and walked back to his thatched hut.
Actually, he knew the reason. That boy had practiced boxing on this wall.
Ning Yao took out a scroll from her sleeve, put the wine jug aside, then lay on the wall and spread out that “lantern of the river of time.” This was already the third or fourth time?
On the scroll, the scene was at that Immortal’s Grave, which she had also visited. A group of children were flying kites. There was a skinny, dark child, sitting far away alone, looking solitary. A peer of his age, while running to fly a kite, passed by that kid, tugged on his kite, then crouched down, picked up a piece of mud, and threw it fiercely. Seeing the figure that turned and ran, the tall child holding the kite laughed heartily.
Ning Yao extended a finger and tapped it on the scroll, exactly hitting the tall child’s forehead. She muttered something.
Then she withdrew her hand and quietly watched the rest of the scroll.
Among the “objects close at hand,” there were actually quite a few more, but she only ever watched one each time.
She turned over, clasped her hands behind her head, gently swaying one leg.
Liking him had nothing to do with the scroll.
After watching one scroll after another, it only turned from liking into liking even more.
She, Ning Yao, liked someone; it had nothing to do with heaven and earth.
Chen Ping’an could foolishly practice a million punches for her sake.
But was that so amazing?
Ning Yao opened her eyes. She felt that even if she died a million times, she could still continue to like him.
---
Mao Xiaodong told Chen Ping’an that the undercurrents in the Great Sui capital would no longer affect the Cliff Academy. The happiest person was naturally Li Baoping, who dragged Chen Ping’an to start touring the capital in all directions. She asked her Little Master Uncle to eat at two shabby alley restaurants she frequented, and visited various historical sites in Great Sui. It took a full half month, and Li Baoping said there were still a small half of interesting places left, but through chatting with Cui Dongshan, she learned that her Little Master Uncle had just broken through to the second realm of Qi Refiners and was in a critical period requiring day-and-night absorption of heaven and earth’s spiritual energy. So Li Baoping decided to follow the custom of her hometown: “save it for later.”
Chen Ping’an began true cultivation.
During specific daytime hours, he used pure yang energy to warm his viscera and bones, resisting the erosion of external evil and turbid Qi from invading his Qi palaces.
During certain nighttime moments, he absorbed clear yin energy, focusing on nourishing two acupoints that had already opened and housed his natal objects.
Because the refinement of the golden gall-wen involved Confucian cultivation to a considerable extent, Mao Xiaodong personally took out a poetry anthology and guided Chen Ping’an, having him thoroughly read more than a hundred of the most famous frontier poems in history.
Learning that Chen Ping’an, after such a long journey, had not even visited a single ancient battlefield site on the maps of two continents—only in the small Lotus Flower Paradise had he seen a group of monks reciting sutras and chanting Buddha’s name on a battlefield—Mao Xiaodong gave him another scolding.
The Day and Night Wandering Spirit True Form Talismans had already been “sealed” by Mao Xiaodong; otherwise, no matter how high the talisman’s rank or how slow the spiritual energy dissipation, it wouldn’t be a good thing.
As for how to unseal them, after Chen Ping’an detailed the origin of the True Form Talisman, Cui Dongshan went back to study and tinker with it, and actually succeeded.
Cui Dongshan shamelessly asked if he could flip through the “Dan Shu Zhen Ji” (True Manual of Alchemy), offering to pay Master one small Summer Coin for each page he turned.
Chen Ping’an didn’t agree.
Pei Qian accompanied Chen Ping’an and Li Baoping on the outings a few times, but she found it more comfortable to stay at the academy. Walking around every day, leaving in the morning and returning at night, exhausting herself half to death—how was it better than staying at Cui Dongshan’s courtyard, where she could chat and brag with Li Huai and play Gomoku? Later, she found excuses to stay at the academy. Chen Ping’an also felt that Pei Qian had walked such a long road, step for step no less than theirs, so he let Pei Qian play around at the academy. However, he still checked Pei Qian’s transcription homework every day and had Zhu Lian supervise Pei Qian’s stance practice and sword and saber training. As for martial arts practice, whether Pei Qian was diligent or not didn’t matter—Chen Ping’an didn’t place too much emphasis on it—but the incense-burning meditation couldn’t be skipped.
Mao Xiaodong often chatted casually with Chen Ping’an. Once he said, “Laws are merely tools of governance, not the source of order and clarity.”
It seemed that Mao Xiaodong was worried that his Little Junior Brother might inadvertently go too far down the path of Legalism, so he had to speak up to remind him.
Mao Xiaodong then smiled and said, “This sentence wasn’t spoken by us Confucians. It wasn’t meant to demean Legalism and elevate Confucianism. It was said by a famous harsh official of the Legalist school from the Central Plains, he himself said it.”
Chen Ping’an nodded in agreement.
In Cui Dongshan’s courtyard, Pei Qian often gathered with Li Huai, repeatedly reading several books of martial arts chivalric tales. They read at different speeds, so they often argued about whether to turn the page. Occasionally, Li Baoping would also join them for a while, but Pei Qian and Li Huai liked to read about flashing blades and flying blood, the stirring life-and-death scenes.
Li Baoping also read these, but she preferred those characters who might not even have names, pondering why a person would say a certain thing or do a certain action at a certain place in the book.
One day, Zhu Lian took out a stack of his own manuscripts, writing about numerous chivalrous women falling into misfortune and being bullied by old martial arts masters and nameless scoundrels. Yu Lu secretly read it and was utterly amazed.
Zhu Lian felt that Yu Lu was indeed his soulmate, very congenial.
In Cui Dongshan’s study, there were piles of ethereal ancient paintings, scrolls with birdsong and floral fragrance, empty mountains after fresh rain, and an old man fishing alone in a cold river.
But that night, Li Huai and Pei Qian “added legs to the snake” by drawing random scribbles on these famous paintings, spoiling the scenery.
For example, Pei Qian drew crooked birdcages for the birds, inspired by that Miss Liu of the Qingluan Kingdom’s phoenix cage.
Li Huai drew a strange fish next to the lonely boat of the old man in straw raincoat, a fish bigger than the boat itself.
When Cui Dongshan saw this, he wasn’t angry.
One day, Cui Dongshan took out a bizarre palace painting, a “summer heat-relieving picture of skeletons and ghosts,” looking pleased with himself, saying it would broaden Pei Qian’s horizons.
Pei Qian looked closely, and suddenly a skeleton grew huge, almost breaking out of the painting. Pei Qian was so frightened that her soul almost scattered; she could only sit there dumbly, weeping silently.
Even when she saw Chen Ping’an, she just pursed her lips.
As a result, Chen Ping’an chased Cui Dongshan, beating him with fists and feet, cursing him loudly, nonstop profanity, even using the dialect of his hometown in Longquan County. He grabbed a broom and smashed it into the back of Cui Dongshan’s head. Cui Dongshan flew forward, fell to the ground, and played dead, barely escaping the ordeal.
Cui Dongshan occasionally talked about serious matters.
One day, a group somehow got to discussing human lifespan. Cui Dongshan smiled and said, “You should know about snakes shedding their skin, right? Master grew up in the countryside, must have seen a lot.”
Chen Ping’an nodded, and Li Baoping, Pei Qian, and Li Huai also nodded.
Cui Dongshan grinned and said, “If we consider the human soul as the foundation, and the skin, flesh, and bones as clothes, then guess how many ‘human-skin garments’ an ordinary person changes in a lifetime, living to sixty?”
Pei Qian felt this idea was a bit creepy.
Cui Dongshan held up one finger with a smile.
Pei Qian’s eyes widened. “Ten?”
Li Baoping frowned. “A hundred?”
Li Huai, purely to be contrary—he loved arguing with Li Baoping and Pei Qian—said carelessly, “A thousand!”
Cui Dongshan nodded. “In a lifetime, a person changes a thousand human-skin garments without realizing it.”
Cui Dongshan continued, “Plus those mysterious acupoints that perfectly correspond to heaven and earth, that’s why sentient beings, after becoming spirits, are willing to take human form.”
“The imperial kiln porcelain in your hometown is so fragile, easily broken, most afraid of bumps. Why did the emperor order it to be fired? Why not just use the clay from the mountain, or sturdier pottery jars?”
Li Huai laughed and said, “Because it’s pretty and valuable. Cui Dongshan, how can you ask such a brainless question?”
Cui Dongshan scolded, “Right, right, right, only you have brains. You’re all head and no brain, a blockhead.”
Li Huai made a face and grinned, “Not listening, not listening. A turtle chanting scriptures.”
Chen Ping’an smiled knowingly.
One day, Chen Ping’an sat in the corridor of Cui Dongshan’s courtyard. He took off the Sword-Nurturing Gourd but didn’t drink. He pressed his palm against the gourd’s mouth and gently shook it.
The small courtyard was momentarily empty, a rare moment of quiet.
After refining the metallic and water natal objects, refining the third natal object of the Five Elements became an unavoidable hurdle.
But according to Zhang Shanfeng, ordinary Qi Refiners, three natal objects were enough: one for offense, one for defense, and the last to help the Qi Refiner absorb spiritual energy faster—that was already a considerable achievement for cultivators below the Earth Immortal realm.
Regarding whether the two flying swords, Chuyi and Shiwu, could be refined as Chen Ping’an’s own natal objects, Cui Dongshan’s words were vague. He only said that after that Nascent Soul sword cultivator’s Li Fire flying sword was gifted to Xie Xie, even if she successfully refined it as her natal object, compared to a sword cultivator’s natal flying sword, although the difference seemed small, it was actually like clouds and mud—it was quite useless. However, the so-called “useless” was relative to Upper Five Realm cultivators. For ordinary Earth Immortals, having such an opportunity to strip a Earth Immortal sword cultivator’s natal flying sword and use it for oneself was still something to burn high incense for.
Fire, Earth, Wood.
The remaining three natal objects.
The earlier idea of using the Five-Color Sheji Soil of the Great Li Dynasty as a natal object had long been completely abandoned by Chen Ping’an.
The old Daoist of the Guan Dao Temple once had the little Daoist boy carrying a huge gourd deliver a message, mentioning that Miss Ruan Xiu’s fire dragon could be taken and refined. But Chen Ping’an wasn’t crazy. Let alone such a heinous act—the mere thought of Ruan Qiong’s wary look, like guarding against a thief, already gave Chen Ping’an a headache. If Ruan Qiong ever found out about such a thought, he would surely take his forging hammer and smash Chen Ping’an into a bloody pulp.
So, he would set aside the thought of the Five Elements’ Fire for now.
The last remaining element was Wood.
Chen Ping’an actually had some plans. There was that old locust tree that had been cut down, but it had already been divided among the villagers. The locust-wood sword he left at the Sword Qi Great Wall was one of the locust branches he had asked Little Baoping to carry back at the time.
Song Jixin had mentioned the changes in his hometown. Obviously, the villagers in the small town were now sharper than ever, and the baggage dealers of Niujiao Slope weren’t bad at judgment either; they might not leave any opportunities for Chen Ping’an to pick up spoils.
Chen Ping’an scratched his head in frustration.
He lay back.
He was now a pure martial artist at the peak of the Fifth Realm.
A Second Realm Qi Refiner—everything starts hard. Chen Ping’an knew best how hard-won this Second Realm cultivator status was.
He carried a semi-immortal sword, but unless he was fighting to the death, drawing it was difficult.
The Sword-Nurturing Gourd held two flying swords. The natal Small Fengdu (Shiwu) was fine, but Chuyi was about to rebel. It communicated with Chen Ping’an’s mind, almost every day clamoring for the last and largest chunk of the Dragon-Slaying Platform.
He wore the Dharma Robe Golden Nectar. It was fine to wear before the Seventh Realm; in fact, it helped absorb spiritual energy quickly, to a great extent compensating for Chen Ping’an’s fatal flaw in cultivation talent after his Bridge of Longevity was broken. However, whenever he used inner vision to tour his Qi palaces, the green-clothed little boys formed by water essence all looked resentful, clearly because the Water Palace’s spiritual energy often experienced deficits, forcing them into the awkward situation of a clever woman without rice to cook. So they felt particularly wronged.
As for the little Confucian-robed figure manifested by the golden gall-bladder’s spirit, that was an unexpected joy for Chen Ping’an. Riding the fire dragon formed by pure true Qi, it paraded around every day, carefree and happy, helping Chen Ping’an patrol his own small world. This benefited his soul and helped expand his meridians. Moreover, some stubborn impurities left after successive deadly battles, the turbid and filthy Qi hidden deep in the soul, were cleared by the little figure riding the fire dragon, like a great general single-handedly attacking cities and fortresses, diligently sweeping the remnants of rebels hiding in deep mountains and forests.
But it and the fire dragon clearly didn’t get along with that same group of diligent green-clothed boys in the Water Palace; both sides had adopted a posture of never interacting again.
After stumbling and barely becoming a Qi Refiner, Chen Ping’an actually felt lost for the first time.
He had to make choices.
To survive, practicing boxing and stances through hardship—Chen Ping’an never hesitated.
But now that his life was basically safe, if he wanted, he could even break through to the Sixth Realm today. It was like a wealthy person worrying about whether to earn gold or silver. This made Chen Ping’an very uncomfortable.
Deep down, he was used to being a poor man; he always felt that the handful of copper coins tightly held in his hand, or the thin layer of rice in the rice jar, were truly his own.
Even with a mountain of gold and silver beside him, he still felt that even if they were his today, they would belong to someone else after waking up tomorrow.
Chen Ping’an knew this was wrong, but a mountain’s nature is hard to change. In this matter, he couldn’t say he hadn’t progressed, but the progress was slow.
In fact, over the years, Chen Ping’an knew that many things had changed. For example, not wearing straw sandals and switching to boots made him feel awkward, almost unable to walk. For example, wearing the Dharma Robe Golden Nectar and putting a jade hairpin in his hair always made him feel like the saying “a monkey in a hat.” And for example, for the dream he once shared with Lu Tai, he would buy many useless things that cost money, hoping that one day in Longquan County, he would have a big, prosperous new home.
Chen Ping’an crossed his legs and gently swayed.
The little lotus person sneaked out from underground, darted up the steps, and finally sat on Chen Ping’an’s instep.
Chen Ping’an put a finger to his lips, signaling him to be quiet.
Ever since Cui Dongshan first appeared in that village in the Qingluan Kingdom, the little lotus person had barely shown himself. This was something Chen Ping’an had asked him to do. Though he didn’t understand, he obeyed.
The little lotus person, with only one arm, covered his mouth and nodded vigorously with a smile.
As Chen Ping’an swung his leg, the little guy seemed to be swinging on a swing. If he hadn’t been covering his mouth, he would have burst out giggling long ago.
Seeing the joyful little lotus person, Chen Ping’an’s mind calmed down a lot. Those distracting thoughts and worries were swept away.
Chen Ping’an closed his eyes. After a short while, he felt the weight on his foot lighten. He turned his head and opened his eyes. The little guy was imitating him, lying down and crossing his legs too.
When he was discovered by Chen Ping’an, he squinted with a smile.
Chen Ping’an lay on his side, and the little guy imitated him.
Chen Ping’an began to shake his head, seeming to mumble, but not making a sound.
The little guy copied the shape, imitating Chen Ping’an.
The big one and the small one both had no idea what they were mumbling about.
Chen Ping’an didn’t know.
Cui Dongshan was outside the courtyard wall, his head leaning against the wall, his body like a… slope.
Cui Dongshan understood why Chen Ping’an intentionally made the little lotus person hide from him.
Because in Chen Ping’an’s eyes, the little lotus person, carefree as he was now, was already perfect.
He didn’t even want to or was unwilling to know whether the little lotus person was actually very rare, extremely valuable, or of great use.
So Cui Dongshan was feeling a bit stifled.
Because he really wanted to tell Chen Ping’an that that little guy was truly, truly extraordinary.
But for some reason, after thinking it over, although he knew that whether he told or not, the result would be the same where Chen Ping’an was concerned, Cui Dongshan pondered and suddenly felt that not saying it was just fine. It was actually quite nice.
Once Cui Dongshan understood this, a smile spread across his face. He returned to his normal demeanor, lightly knocked his head back, stood up straight, and silently drifted away.
If life is not joyful, it’s only because you haven’t met my Master.
Cui Dongshan was now very joyful, because if he used this sentence to curry favor with Little Baoping, he might get away with one less stamping from the seal next time.
So Cui Dongshan dashed off, stopped outside the study window, and winked at the little girl in the red skirt.
As a result, he was shouted at angrily by the teacher.