thefictionvixens Page 75
Page 75
"It seems that you were a student at the Taoist academy you founded in this life. You can look for it in the academy's roster or ask the person in charge. It should be easy to find."
"Well, okay."
Mu Qinghan nodded slightly.
He bent his knees and half-squatted, his arms passing through Mu Shenqi's knees and back, and with a little effort, he steadily lifted the person onto his back.
“Wait for me here,” he turned his head and looked at Shi Kuan. “Wait here tomorrow at noon, and I will bring her over before evening.”
"Hahaha—thank you so much!"
Shi Kuan laughed even harder, "I'll be waiting here tomorrow morning, I won't make any mistakes!"
Mu Qinghan responded faintly, his voice carried away by the wind.
He carried Mu Shenqi on his back, slowed his pace, and the hem of his clothes fluttered gently in the wind.
Shi Kuan watched that retreating figure, a slow smile creeping onto his lips.
He watched quietly, a faint glimmer in his eyes, as he watched the figure walk further and further away.
Ah... hundreds of years...
Finally...can I see you again?
Chapter 91 The Dean is About to Arrive at the "Battlefield"
Mu Qinghan helped Mu Shenqi to the bedside.
He moved more gently, carefully shifting the person onto the bed so that Mu Shenqi's head could rest steadily on the soft pillow.
He casually grabbed the folded blanket at the foot of the bed, pulled it up until it covered Mu Shenqi's chest, tucked the corners in, and then straightened up.
Moonlight streamed through the window, casting dappled silver shadows on the floor. He glanced at the motionless person on the bed and slowed his pace.
Back in my room, as soon as I opened the door, I saw candlelight flickering on the desk. The warm yellow light, carrying a faint scent of pine resin, wafted in, dispelling the chill of the night.
It seems that Afu ordered the food in advance because he was afraid that he would come back in the dark.
He walked to the desk and sat down. Before his fingertips even touched the surface, two soft knocks came from outside the door, followed by Afu's voice, which sounded somewhat cautious.
"Young master, would you like some hot soup to warm yourself up?"
When Afu went to feed the chickens in the corner of the yard in the afternoon, he found that the study where the two young masters often stayed was empty.
He had some doubts, but didn't ask any further questions.
After all, with the abilities of the two young masters, no one can harm them.
As darkness fell and the smoke from the chimneys dissipated, and no one returned, he could no longer sit still. He paced back and forth in the yard several times, losing his appetite for dinner.
He rushed out almost immediately upon hearing the door creak open, and only when he saw Mu Qinghan carrying the unconscious Mu Shenqi back did his heart finally settle down.
She turned around and rushed into the kitchen, reheated the chicken soup that had been warming on the stove that afternoon, and sprinkled some chopped green onions on top to enhance the flavor.
Huh? It seems the young master doesn't like scallions...
Never mind, it's just a little bit. Young Master is tired and probably won't notice these details.
Mu Qinghan's throat was indeed a little dry, and he responded slowly upon hearing this.
"Put it in, thank you for your hard work."
When Afu pushed open the door, he had a smile on his face, and the white porcelain bowl in his hand was steaming, with the aroma of chicken soup wafting slowly in.
As soon as he reached the desk, his gaze fell on the booklet that Mu Qinghan had spread out in front of him.
That was the roster of the Taoist academy. The names were densely written on the beige paper, written in neat and clear small characters. The students' hometowns, the year they entered the academy, and even the subjects taught by the teachers were all listed.
He knew that the young master was meticulous.
He keeps a backup of everything important in the Taoist temple, big or small, so he can easily refer to it at any time.
At this moment, the candlelight fell on Mu Qinghan's profile. He lowered his eyes, his long eyelashes casting a light shadow beneath them, and his fingertips were slowly sliding along the pages of the paper, as if searching for a name.
Even when Afu put the soup bowl on the table, he didn't look up.
Although this is just a roster of students at the academy, it records the hometowns and birth dates of all teachers and students, and even notes the family connections of some students from other places. Strictly speaking, it is also a secret.
As soon as Afu caught a glimpse of the word "Butai" out of the corner of his eye, he immediately lowered his head and stared intently at the tips of his shoes.
He knows what he should see and what he shouldn't see, and he never pries in too far.
"Young master, drink it while it's hot. The chicken soup will lose its flavor when it cools down, and it won't warm you up anymore."
Ah Fu stood still, his hand still in the gesture of handing over the soup, and his voice became even softer.
Mu Qinghan slightly raised his hand, his fingertips touching the outer wall of the white porcelain bowl, and warmth spread up from his fingertips.
He took the soup bowl, turned his wrist slightly, blew gently on the rim of the bowl, and took a small sip.
The rich chicken broth, mixed with the aroma of shiitake mushrooms, spread across the tongue, perfectly fresh. However, when swallowing, a very faint, indescribable astringent taste seemed to linger in the throat.
When Afu saw him take a big gulp, the smile on his face deepened instantly, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes all came together.
He subconsciously rubbed his hands together and slowly turned around.
"Young master, if you would like another bowl after you've finished yours, just call me. I'll be waiting in the porch outside, I won't go far."
Mu Qinghan looked up at him, the candlelight casting a warm yellow glow in his eyes.
"No need, this bowl is enough. You should go back and rest."
"Okay, okay, all right!"
Afu responded repeatedly, walking very lightly. When he reached the door, he paused deliberately and carefully pulled the wooden door back.
Only after hearing a soft "click" to confirm that the door was closed did he turn and leave.
The sound of footsteps outside the door crunching on the snow gradually faded into the distance.
Mu Qinghan looked down at the soup bowl in his hand, steam rising and creating a thin mist in front of his eyes.
His gaze fell on the few bits of chopped scallions floating at the bottom of the bowl.
He frowned slightly, finally finding the source of that strange smell.
He hesitated for a moment, tapped the rim of the bowl lightly with his fingertips, and finally picked up the bowl and took another big gulp.
The warm soup slid down his throat and down his esophagus, bringing warmth to his limbs and dispelling the chill of the night. It was so comforting that he unconsciously relaxed his brow.
He placed the bowl on the table, his gaze returning to the roster. His fingertips paused lightly on the name "Budai," the flickering candlelight making the name exceptionally clear.
Mu Qinghan thought for a moment. If he went around asking people one by one with the roster, it would only attract attention.
It would be better to go directly to the Taoist academy and teach a few students individually as temporary instructors. This would allow us to bring Butai out in a straightforward manner and save a lot of trouble.
He looked up out the window; the moonlight had moved to its zenith, and the snow in the courtyard gleamed coldly in the moonlight.
On second thought, I realized that I had indeed been somewhat "negligent" in my duties as dean.
He built the Taoist temple himself, but he hasn't been back since he went outside the circle.
Has the class schedule in the college been adjusted?
Are the newly recruited tutors to the students' liking?
He doesn't even know it himself.
Those students probably only saw him once from afar on the day the academy was founded.
If he went back now, probably very few people would recognize him as the dean.
Thinking of this, he slightly curled the corners of his mouth, casually closed the roster, and tapped the cover with his fingertips.
It's a win-win situation: you can get things done and check on the current situation of the Taoist temple at the same time.
He got up and walked to the clothes rack, took down the plain-colored outer robe hanging there, and gently shook out the wrinkles.
This robe is the regular attire of the Taoist academy's instructors; it fits perfectly.
As he fastened his belt, he remembered that Mu Shenqi was still asleep in the room, so he thought he should have Afu make more ginger soup early the next morning so that Mu Shenqi could drink it to dispel the cold and the effects of the alcohol.
After everything was planned out, he blew out the candle, lay down on the bed, and waited for dawn to go to the Taoist temple.
Chapter 92 He's Mu Qinghan?!
"Quiet! All of you, be quiet!"
In the most remote classroom on the west side of the Taoist temple, Mr. Li's voice, as cold as frost, slammed onto the podium.
He was one of the elders of the Li family in Taoyuan, and had a close relationship with Li Quzhuo and Li Zizai.
The inkstone on the table bounced, splashing a few drops of ink onto the yellowed pages of the "Sword Classic," creating small black spots.
Behind the dozen or so wooden tables in front of him, the seventeen or eighteen-year-old boys and girls instantly fell silent.
The hand that had been secretly passing notes froze in mid-air, and the person who had been staring blankly at the snow outside the window suddenly turned their head back.
Mr. Li stroked his half-white beard, his fingertips trembling slightly with excitement. His gaze swept over the faces below the stage, faces that were youthful yet proud, and his tone was heavy.
"Do you know that you were born in the best of times and the worst of times?!"
He paused, then pointed to the boy in the front row who always raised his eyebrows and argued.
"Good, because this era is full of geniuses, and the rise of the human race is like the rising sun in the east, unstoppable!"
"But this 'bad' is directed at you!"
His voice suddenly rose, and he slammed his knuckles heavily on the table.
"Don't think that just because you passed the entrance exam and beat your peers, you're some kind of genius!"
"That's just like a frog in a well looking at the sky!"
A girl in the audience muttered indignantly, "I haven't seen many people my age who can fight well. Everyone says I'm a genius. How can I be so narrow-minded?"
These words reached Mr. Li's ears, but he didn't get angry. Instead, he smiled and said, "What's this? Have you ever seen a real genius?"
He walked to the window, pushed it open halfway, and a cold wind carrying snowflakes rushed in, making the boys and girls shrink their necks.
"Ten years from now, if any of you can withstand a casual sword strike from the Dean—that is, Young Master Mu Qinghan."
"Not many, just one sword strike, and you will have truly entered the Dao, and the days to come will be enough for you to be proud of for the rest of your lives!"