88 Nothing to Note from Books (2/2)

Slightly shocked, he stood up and walked to the table beside the west window. Staring at the writing brushes, ink sticks, paper, and ink stones, he sat down after a long thought. Later, he picked up an ink stone and began to grind the ink in fresh water.

They were not allowed to copy any books in the library. Besides, transcribing the characters of the divine talisman into normal characters on paper would not work. Ning Que had tried meditating. As he tried to turn the flashing memories into common characters on paper, the characters in his brain quickly scattered like smoke, unable to materialize.

Furthermore, according to the rules of the old library, the books could not be left with any traces. Ning Que had no idea whether the instructors would discover something unusual if he played some tricks, though he never tried playing such tricks these days. Countless cut-throat battles over the years had long taught him a lesson: When you were confronted with mountains that must be conquered, any petty tricks would look very stupid; in such a situation, all you needed was the great wisdom that was close to stupidity and simpleness.

What should be noted? In such circumstances, what kinds of characters and words could be counted as notes? Holding the brush with his wrist raised, Ning Que, however, hesitated to write on the paper. That was because he forgot what he had read in that thin book previously. Thus, he had no idea what notes were meaningful.

”Maybe the things that I'm risking my life for are actually meaningless on their own.”

Thinking about all the hard work recently, all the sleepless and painful feelings, and Sangsang taking care of him with hot towel these nights, Ning Que laughed at himself and inevitably felt a little disappointed. Indeed, it was very difficult for an ordinary person to enter into the cultivation world. The more effort you made, seemingly, the more bleakness it added.

The brush loaded with ink hung in the air for a long time. With a gentle ”Pa!” sound, a drop of ink dropped down on the snow-white paper. The ink quickly scattered along the fiber of the paper and then presented a kind of irregular beauty.

Something suddenly touched his heart when Ning Que was staring at the group of ink traces. The sadness and disappointment in his heart was totally rinsed and turned into absolute peace. At this moment, he figured out everything in his mind. Not every love experience could be a happy memory. Not every fairy tale could have a happy ending, likewise, not all efforts could be rewarded. Even if you tried very hard, the ending, mostly, did not depend on you, so you should just enjoy the process.

If there was nothing sublime to note, you should just ignore it. If you had no idea what should be noted, you could write something else, such as your mood, your own experiences, your feelings in the old library, the sight of the quiet female professor beside the east window accompanied by a pink wall and old trees and new branches, and the sunset in the direction of the west window...

”Keep going up, up, up! Previously, I was always fettered and vexed by such thoughts, but now, all would be stopped. I was just a wood-chopper of Shubi Lake before, so why should I forcibly imitate other people when it was obviously not the right time for me?”

Scrawling on the paper without any special thoughts, he just casually wrote some characters according to his current mood. With the clear and gorgeous characters appearing on the paper one after another, the utmost annoying emotion in his chest was gradually disappearing, as if the ink was scattered by the brush.

”I had been engaged in penance for 17 consecutive days since I tried to study cultivation in the old library. Unluckily, however, I failed to learn any words by heart, and had no choice but to see them flee. Once, I was aware and also entered into some dark and sweet dreams, but they would always disappear in the end.

”If these characters on the paper are illusory, why can I see them? If they are real, why can't I memorize them? If they exist between reality and illusion, is the ink which presents them real or illusory, and is the paper which shows them real or illusory?”

Then, Ning Que stopped writing and did not want to continue since it was just a kind of casual and informal note. Putting down the brush, he quietly looked at the characters on the paper. After the paper became dry, he gently put it into that thin book and laid the book back on the bookshelves. Later, he turned around and politely made a bow to the female professor beside the east window before going downstairs.

For the first time in days, Ning Que walked down the stairs by himself without having to be carried.

Looking at the disappointing back of the lad, the female professor gently sighed and silently thought of the old library's rules set by her teacher before: A student was allowed to choose only one branch although there were countless ones. Ning Que had a strong will, so his Psyche Power collected from meditation must be strong, too. However, the Snow Mountain and Ocean of Qi inside his body were poor, which was a prerequisite for cultivation. If he kept cultivating, in the end he would have to lie in bed, spitting blood and pale. Even if Haotian pitied him for his tenacity and perseverance and bestowed him health, what was the benefit for him if he kept reading like this for the next 80 years?

At that time, the color of the sky became darker as night was coming. No one would go upstairs today. After tidying the calligraphy stationery in front of her, the female professor walked along a side path toward the direction of Back Mountain.

After some time, the dark night covered the Academy and that big mountain behind the Academy. The lights inside the Academy, which was surrounded by a wide meadow, scattered like the stars in the sky.

On the second floor of the silent old library, a light suddenly appeared on the bookshelves leaning against the north wall, and then quietly and slowly spread toward both sides.

A fat young student in a dark cyan academic robe breathlessly squeezed from the seam. Then, angrily turning his head back and staring at the bookshelves, he complained, ”Who is responsible for this design? Couldn't the exit be a little larger? Didn't he suppose the Academy would recruit several fat students someday?”

The fat lad walked beside the bookshelves with a mumble and complained, ”Second Brother isn't a good guy! Why does he insist on making a bet on the contents of an introductory book? Though I, Chen Pipi, am a genius, it is also impossible for me to still remember what I read at a very young age.”

While talking to himself, he drew out a thin book from the bookshelves. Looking at the several characters on the cover of Primary Exploration on Ocean of Qi and Mountain of Snow, he gently patted it with satisfaction. With his patting, a very thin sheet of white paper flew out.