Chapter 202: A Sudden Impulse
The man turned and entered the thatched cottage. He looked at the cleanly swept floor and the table and chairs, fell silent for a moment, then followed the scent of food to find the freshly steamed rice and salted fish. He spotted the plate of greens set on the stove. Pushing aside the tangled hair that hung before his eyes, he turned his head to look at Chen Changsheng but said nothing.
Chen Changsheng guessed that this disheveled, unkempt man was likely the owner of the cottage. He stepped forward, picked up a piece of pork rind he had prepared earlier, rubbed it across the heated iron wok, then tipped the greens in. He wielded the spatula, and with a sizzling crackle, the vegetables were cooked in no time.
He scooped the greens onto a plate. Since there was hardly any oil, they didn't smell particularly fragrant, nor did they look especially appetizing. But Chen Changsheng had always favored light cooking with little oil and salt—back in Xining Town, he often boiled vegetables in plain water—so he saw nothing wrong with it. Next, he cut the steamed salted fish into segments, sprinkled some scallion shreds over them, and began to serve the rice.
Steaming bowls of white rice were placed on the table. The man didn't stand on ceremony; he picked up his chopsticks and started eating immediately. Chen Changsheng served himself a bowl of rice as well, but when he turned around, he found another person had joined them at the table. Zheshe had somehow walked over from the hedge, his face expressionless as he sat down on a stool, making his intentions perfectly clear.
Chen Changsheng shook his head with a hint of helplessness, set a bowl in front of him, and went to fetch a third bowl of rice.
The greens were sparse—finished in just a few bites. The salted fish was truly salty, making it an excellent accompaniment to the rice. However, just as Tang Thirty-Six had said to Zheshe during the Grand Examination, both Chen Changsheng and Zheshe ate very slowly. While they were still on their first bowls, the man had already polished off four bowls of rice and set down his chopsticks.
Chen Changsheng brewed a cup of tea and handed it to the man.
Zheshe glanced at him but said nothing.
The man took a sip of tea, rubbed his belly with satisfaction, and let out an unseemly burp.
Throughout the meal, no one spoke. It was a very quiet meal, and the atmosphere was strangely eerie.
Chen Changsheng and Zheshe finished eating almost simultaneously. Zheshe stood up, began clearing the dishes, and boiled water to wash them. Watching this scene, Chen Changsheng thought for a moment, decided not to argue with him, and poured two more bowls of tea.
After washing the dishes, Zheshe casually wiped his wet hands on the front of his clothes, sat back down at the table, picked up his tea bowl, and drained it in one gulp. Then he looked at Chen Changsheng and said, "You still owe me something."
When he said this, he didn't spare a single glance at the man who was sitting with his eyes closed, resting, as if he didn't exist at all.
Chen Changsheng replied, "I know. I've been waiting at the National Academy these past few days for you to come and collect."
"The money is enough. Tang Tang's offer was generous."
Zheshe stared at the last dregs of tea in his bowl, fell silent for a moment, then said, "I need you to do me a favor."
Chen Changsheng said, "Tell me. If I can help, I definitely will."
During the Grand Examination, Tang Thirty-Six, on behalf of the National Academy, had struck a cooperative deal with this wolf-tribe youth. In the subsequent matches, Zheshe had carried out that agreement resolutely—especially his battle with Gou Hanshi, which had dragged on as if it would never end. Chen Changsheng's ability to secure a spot on the ranking list had been greatly aided by him.
Zheshe raised his head, fixed his eyes on Chen Changsheng, and said flatly, "There's something wrong with my meridians."
Chen Changsheng had actually already guessed what Zheshe wanted him to help with, so he wasn't surprised. He asked, "Are you sure I can help you?"
"You were able to help Her Highness Luoluo, so there's a chance you can help me. Even if it's only a chance," Zheshe said.
Offspring born from unions between humans and demons often faced problems with bloodline fusion. Sometimes a genius would be born, but more often than not, a waste. And even those descendants with decent bloodline talents often harbored dangerous hidden issues in their bodies. Because Luoluo's parents came from two exceptionally powerful bloodlines, her problem was relatively easier to solve. Zheshe, however, was not so fortunate.
The problems with his meridians not only affected his cultivation but, most terrifyingly, threatened his sanity and even his life.
"When it flares up, it's excruciating. At its worst, it makes me lose my reason—to put it bluntly, I go mad. I don't know what I'll do when I'm mad. I might run around killing people indiscriminately. Otherwise, my tribe wouldn't have driven me away when I was so young."
Zheshe spoke in a detached tone, as if he were talking about someone else. There was no trace of emotion on his face.
Only then did Chen Changsheng understand why Zheshe had said earlier, on the other side of the hedge, that living or dying while awake was the most important thing.
He thought for a long time before saying, "The most likely cause is a problem with the meridians connected to your sea of consciousness—some kind of deformity."
Because his own meridians were severed, he had been searching through Daoist scriptures for relevant knowledge and had conducted extensive research on meridian-related issues. Few people were more knowledgeable than him in this area. Later, when he guided Luoluo and Xuanyuan Po at the National Academy, his practical experience had also grown considerably. Now, after hearing Zheshe describe his condition, he quickly identified the root of the problem.
Zheshe showed no excitement at the prospect of hope. He said flatly, "That's what the Heavenly Mechanism Pavilion said too."
Chen Changsheng looked at him, thought for a moment, and asked, "What kind of result are you hoping for?"
"If I can live longer, that's best. If not, at least I want to stay awake. Live awake or die awake—just as long as I'm conscious."
Zheshe stared into Chen Changsheng's eyes and said, "I don't want to live without knowing anything, to live in a daze, to live without even knowing I'm alive, to live like a dog."
He was a lone and proud wolf, traveling a thousand miles to eat meat, unwilling to eat shit.
"I can't promise anything, but I'll try my best to think of some solutions."
Chen Changsheng said, then reached out to take Zheshe's pulse.
His index and middle fingers pressed together, like two swords of unequal length, gently resting on Zheshe's pulse point. They seemed casual, but were actually very steady, like weapons laid upon a rack.
Thump-thump-thump-thump. A clear pulse transmitted back through his fingertips. Chen Changsheng noticed that this wolf-tribe youth, like Luoluo, had an extremely fast heartbeat—like a war drum being beaten incessantly. Moreover, his pulse was abnormally strong and forceful. The surface of his skin trembled faintly like a tightly stretched drumhead, making Chen Changsheng's fingers tingle.
Suddenly, a surge of power erupted from Zheshe's pulse point. That power wasn't particularly sharp, but it was vast, like a tide rising slowly. Yet it was so abrupt that it felt as if, in an instant, the tide had submerged all the reefs. Caught completely off guard, Chen Changsheng's two fingers were abruptly bounced up.
He looked at Zheshe in shock. Zheshe's face still showed no expression—it was utterly indifferent—but there was a subtle change: the light in his pupils had dimmed considerably.
What was going on?
(Things are finally mostly settled. I'll resume two chapters tomorrow.)