A smiling face is always the most infectious expression. Han Zhe finally woke from his slumber with difficulty. After taking care of his personal hygiene and eating a large bowl of noodles, he saw Yun Ye walk in. To avoid sleeping again, he struggled to pile his face full of smiles, wanting to win Yun Ye’s favor through his smiling face so he’d be too embarrassed to feed him that terrible medicine. Who could have imagined that sleep could bring the greatest terror to a person, especially thinking before sleep whether this slumber might become eternal sleep—this thought could torment a person to madness. Each time he slept, it felt like dying once.
Yun Ye firmly shook his head and put another pill in his mouth, washing it down with a large cup of water. He said softly to Han Zhe, “The life you’re living now is something I dream of having—sleeping in the most luxurious and comfortable bed, eating the food you most want to eat, with maids attending to you tirelessly day and night. What are you still dissatisfied with? According to what you said, we’re all divine beings. I have no need to humiliate you. Right now I’m very busy. Once I’ve handled worldly affairs, we’ll have a good talk.”
Han Zhe wanted to speak, but that familiar drowsiness once again swept over him like a tide. Yun Ye’s voice gradually became blurred. Finally, he emitted soft snoring sounds and sank into deep sleep once more.
Wu She walked in from behind the curtain and asked Yun Ye, “Why are you unwilling to speak with him? This old man is very curious to hear what this business about divine beings is all about. I’m already nearly eighty years old and really want to live a few more years. If you have a method, tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”
“Wanting longevity is actually very simple—just balance meat and vegetables in your meals and exercise your muscles and bones more. At your age, you still have five hundred catties of strength and can wring out a piece of wet hemp cloth. I’m envious to death. You don’t ask yourself but instead ask me, someone who knows nothing. It’s truly absurd.”
This really hit Wu She’s itch. His body truly was the best among the old men at the Academy. He didn’t make moves now, but once he did, there really weren’t many opponents to be found in Chang’an. Li Gang and Li Wenji, who were the same age, now needed small carts to move around and would gasp for breath after walking just a few steps. Although Gongshu Mu still walked as swiftly as flying, the age spots all over his face couldn’t deceive anyone. Only he himself, though his hair was completely white, still had vigorous vitality. Though his martial arts were only seventy percent of their peak, Wu She was already very proud.
Having fully satisfied his vanity, Wu She continued hiding behind the curtain, sitting in meditation and cultivating his energy. He could maintain this posture for a very long time—two or three days was nothing.
It wasn’t that Yun Ye was unwilling to speak with Han Zhe, but rather that he hadn’t prepared himself and didn’t know where to begin. He seemed to have inadvertently learned a great secret of history—those exceptional people all seemed to have emerged from those reclusive groups of people?
Not necessarily, right? But the Yellow Stone Duke who gave military strategy to Zhang Liang, the Master Water Mirror who taught Zhuge Liang, Xu Shu, and Pang Tong—these figures were themselves filled with mystery. Such examples were countless. Yet he himself truly wasn’t any immortal’s disciple—just an ordinary person produced on the assembly line of education in later generations. He had not the slightest connection with those people. On what basis did they say he was also a divine being? Could it be that as soon as anyone slightly presentable appeared, they would automatically assume this was a product of divine beings?
It seemed divine beings were also constantly being updated. Han Zhe had said that divine beings don’t kill divine beings, yet Shang Yang was torn apart by five horses. Chao Cuo was beheaded. These people were all definitively killed off. Could it be that none of these people died, but were spirited away by other divine beings? How could this be possible? If all these people hadn’t died but chose to decay along with plants and trees, that would be a tremendous loss for magnificent China. All the high-intelligence people standing on the shore watching the people of the mortal world rolling, struggling, and wailing in the river of history, with no one coming to show them how to climb ashore. And when they saw a few fellows who could swim well, they would immediately hook them ashore with a hook and force them to stand on the shore watching, not allowing them to rescue others. How twisted did they need to be to do this?
This was the true meaning of “bells destroyed while earthen pots thunder”—when idle with nothing to do, they used people of the mortal realm to gamble and play games, and the stakes were probably nothing more than a steamed bun.
Thinking again of that extremely bastardly saying—”I have three thousand great Daos, hidden in the southern mountains, transmitted to later generations”—why couldn’t you take them out now? Let everyone know what your three thousand great Daos actually are. Must you make others go through countless hardships to find them before your sense of pride is satisfied?
Most likely, what people of later generations would see was a pile of insect-eaten and mouse-gnawed wreckage, while your ghost stood guard before the wreckage watching the frustrated faces of descendants. Only this way could you gain maximum satisfaction? Would you even reach climax?
Learning was destined to have a time limit, just like how Jiang Ziya’s “Yinfu Jing” now looked like a joke. What exactly were the River Chart and Luo Book? Couldn’t the ancient sages personally explain them clearly to their juniors? Must they only count if carried out by a dragon-horse? Must later generations crawl on turtle backs to study them before it counted as respecting learning?
This resulted in us now only knowing that the River Chart was black and white dots arranged in numerical arrays, containing infinite mysteries; on the Luo Book, the three numbers on the vertical, horizontal, and diagonal lines all summed to fifteen, which was extremely marvelous.
Oh Heavens! What were those infinite mysteries? Where was the marvel in those extremely marvelous things? The number of Great Evolution should originally be fifty, but why did it become forty-nine? Where did the one that escaped go?
Yun Ye sat powerlessly on the deck of the large ship, murmuring to himself, “Couldn’t you just explain it clearly face-to-face? Must you make us guess? Don’t you know the Academy teachers have nearly gone white-haired over these things…”
The Academy would absolutely never treasure a worn broom. The Academy would absolutely never hide research results. We want to spread our learning so everyone in the Great Tang knows it. We’d rather carve learning into disciples’ minds than carve it on stone. Divine beings—just a group of selfish and despicable petty people! You are the most hateful parasites in this world!
Little Lingdang saw her husband getting angry. She walked over gently and nestled in Yun Ye’s embrace, placing his stiff hand on her full bosom. Her nipple was pinched painfully, but Lingdang made no sound, using her hand to gently stroke Yun Ye’s face, tenderly comforting him.
When Yun Ye regained awareness, he discovered Little Lingdang’s eyes brimming with tears. Looking down again, he found her pure white, full breasts had been pinched by him until they were covered with red marks everywhere. Before long, they would turn into large patches of bruising.
He withdrew his hand and held Little Lingdang in his arms, saying, “In the future, don’t come close when I’m thinking about things. You’ll get hurt. I have no sensation at these times and will only harm you. After I come to my senses, I’ll feel heartache. Don’t do foolish things.”
“I just wanted you to feel a bit better,” Little Lingdang said softly. Large tears still fell from her eyes like a string of pearls. “As long as you feel a bit better, a little pain doesn’t matter to me. I’m a foolish person. I can’t help you untangle your troubles like Sister Xinyue or the Princess. I can only use this foolish method. Please don’t be angry, all right? I’m very afraid when you’re angry. You look frightening when angry. Let’s just live happily. So many people died in the city. Though they were all water bandits, I’m still afraid to go into the city. I always feel like ghost souls are touching me. Husband, can we go back to Chang’an?”
“We can’t not go even if we wanted to. Na Rimu and the girl have been bullied. Some barbarian from Tubo wants my daughter to be his daughter-in-law. I can’t wait to fly back to Chang’an right now and tear him to pieces. Moreover, we’ve captured someone who needs to be personally handed over to His Majesty for disposal. These two matters are far more important than building the new city.”
Hearing that Na Rimu had been bullied, Lingdang’s tears disappeared. They were all family, so naturally she was angry. She had tasted the flavor of being bullied—that feeling of helpless isolation would wake Little Lingdang crying even in dreams. Only seeing her husband sleeping beside her would give her peace of mind, and she’d hold her husband again to sleep. This time, her dreams would be full of happy things.
Na Rimu must really need her husband’s help. Little Lingdang clenched her small fist and said to Yun Ye, “Let’s go back and help Sister Na Rimu break the legs of that scoundrel who bullied her.”
This was the most vicious punishment Little Lingdang could think of. Yun Ye couldn’t help but laugh. He patted Lingdang’s small fist and said decisively, “That’s right, we’ll go back right now and break that Tubo dog’s legs.”
After speaking, he carried Little Lingdang into the cabin and laid her on the bed, smiling as he said, “You rest for a while first. This afternoon I’ll make dumplings for you—your favorite three-delicacy filling dumplings.” He kissed Little Lingdang on the forehead and walked out, involuntarily shaking his head. They were already an old married couple, yet she still blushed from a single kiss. Really.
When the sun slanted westward, Han Zhe woke up. The medicine’s effects could no longer have much impact on him, but his entire body was weak and powerless. Struggling to sit up, he actually discovered the silk threads on his body had already been removed. He wore a very strange but extremely comfortable set of clothes. There seemed to be sounds coming from the deck. His current condition wasn’t suitable for escape, so he abandoned that thought. Pushing open the cabin door, he saw Yun Ye bustling about on the deck, wearing an apron with both hands covered in flour, kneading a large lump of dough. From his skilled movements, one could tell he often did this kind of thing.
Yun Ye turned his head and said to Han Zhe with a smile, “There’s a chair over there. Sit for a while first. After sleeping seven or eight days, your body must be very weak. Once I finish kneading the dough, I’ll start making dumplings. Eat more when the time comes.”
Han Zhe wasn’t surprised that Yun Ye would receive him this way. Nodding, he sat in the chair and pointed at the clothes on his body asking, “Whose clothes are these?”
“My pajamas. I only have two sets. Seeing you had no pajamas, I’m letting you make do with mine for now. You probably wouldn’t wear anyone else’s either.”
Only then did Han Zhe feel relieved. Clearly these were worn clothes. If they were someone else’s, he might be vomiting right now. Since they were Yun Ye’s, there was no problem. He lowered his head to smell the sleeve and discovered it had a very fresh scent, though he couldn’t say what kind.