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墨書 Inktalez
As night deepened, the mountain air grew increasingly cold. The wind blew through the cracks of the door, making Ye Mingshang feel a bit chilly. He huddled slightly, leaning against the wall and gazing out at the slanted window. Half of the blood moon was obscured by a large cloud, casting a red glow over the sky.
"Woo woo!"
The wind howled, producing a whimpering sound that made the door creak, adding to the desolate atmosphere. The cold air seeped in, causing a few nearby students to curl up in their blankets, shivering involuntarily.
Soon, three hours passed. Ye Mingshang did not wake up the chubby boy and Joan. He felt uneasy leaving them unattended but was still quite alert himself. Meditation could replace rest for him, and it was even more effective; he usually slept not just out of habit but also for comfort.
The night quickly passed. As he watched the Rising Sun chase away the blood moon, Ye Mingshang's tense heart gradually relaxed. With daylight came safety; under the sunlight, few Evil Entities dared to cause trouble. Even yesterday's corpse would be severely injured if exposed to the sun.
He stood up and stretched lazily, unable to suppress a contented sigh. Opening the door to let in sunlight, he stepped outside to practice his skills in an open area. Zhi Mu couldn't come due to some matters, but there was no need for concern; his training was on track, and as long as he persisted, he would grow stronger and be ready to embark on the path of Grandmaster.
Practicing alone, each punch and kick generated a powerful wind, his movements graceful and agile. Unbeknownst to him, several spectators had gathered; it was hard to sleep well in such a place, and some students had risen early. They crowded at the doorway, curiously watching the young man practicing his martial arts.
While immersed in his training, Ye Mingshang remained attuned to his surroundings due to his natural instincts and soon noticed people watching him but chose not to pay them much mind. He continued practicing without performing any exaggerated moves; for instance, he refrained from jumping four or five meters high.
When the sun fully emerged from behind the mountains, Ye Mingshang exhaled slowly and concluded his practice.
"Clap clap clap!" Applause erupted.
Several students clapped joyfully, and a girl exclaimed, "Wow! Your punches are amazing! What style are you using?"
"It's nothing special; I'm just hitting randomly," Ye Mingshang replied dismissively.
"How can it be random? I see your moves are powerful and fluid; clearly, you've reached a profound level of martial arts. You're too modest," said an energetic boy.
Ah! There’s someone knowledgeable among them.
Ye Mingshang smiled lightly, "After practicing for a long time, it naturally becomes familiar; it's nothing serious."
"Can you teach me?" a girl asked with shining eyes.
"Let's skip it today; maybe there will be an opportunity in the future," Ye Mingshang replied dismissively.
After chatting for a while, Ye Mingshang excused himself to go to the restroom, while the others curiously mimicked Ye Mingshang's earlier movements. However, they were far from successful, looking more like they were playing around.
"Hey! You guys are acting crazy so early in the morning," someone complained after waking up.
"Crazy your face!"
...
Many students were still half-asleep in the morning when the accompanying teachers woke them up, rubbing their eyes with reluctance.
After having a haphazard breakfast with the villagers, they were divided into groups and went off to work. Each student carried a hoe along the path. Some pretty girls complained that the hoe was too heavy to carry and that their shoulders hurt, prompting several boys to come over and offer help.
"I can't carry it either," a Tomboy said, but she did not attract any "gentlemen" to assist her.
"Come on, you’re much stronger than I am," a boy carrying a hoe passed by and rolled his eyes.
The girl immediately got angry and shouted, "Brat, stop right there!"
Not all students went to help with farm work; the fields didn't require that many people. Some were assigned to help clean houses for elderly residents.
In one household in the village lived an old man who was over ninety years old. His spouse had died early, and he had no children. He was blind and had been for over sixty years, making it very inconvenient for him to live alone. He had few friends and had spent most of his life in solitude. When a few students came to help him, he was moved to tears.
"I have been lonely for half my life; I never expected that at this time, you kids would come to see me," the old man said, wiping his tears with his rough hands and speaking in a thick accent.
The student felt a deep sense of sorrow and compassion, gently using a tissue to wipe away the tears from the old man's eyes.
The old man cried out, "My life has been so miserable. I am both poor and blind. Ever since that Foolish Woman left, no woman has wanted to be with me. I've always been alone. During the New Year, while other families are celebrating joyfully, I sit in my quiet house eating meals that are days old."
Several students listened with heavy hearts, struggling to imagine how a blind man in his nineties had managed to live through so many years. How did he survive without being able to see?
...
The old man showed them through his actions that he was happy someone had come to visit him, and he wanted to cook for the children. He picked up a wooden stick and tapped it on the ground to determine his direction. He carefully took some yellowed vegetables from the cupboard and placed them in a basket, refusing the students' help. Slowly, he used the stick to tap along the ground as he made his way to a small creek several hundred meters away to wash the vegetables.
After washing the vegetables, the old man couldn't find his wooden stick and helplessly groped around on the ground. One student couldn't bear it and picked up the stick, handing it back to him. The old man thanked him and continued tapping on the ground as he slowly made his way back, while the students watched with aching hearts.
Inside the dark room, the old man poured rice into a pot and felt around to start a fire. While tending to the flames, he used a firewood stick to poke at the burning wood in the stove. Sometimes he misjudged and had to feel with his hands, often burning himself, but it seemed he was accustomed to it and didn't flinch away.
Once the meal was ready, the students helped serve it on a small table in the room. The old man held up a bowl of rice and asked, "Is it good?"
Although the porridge was slightly burnt and contained some impurities, he had carefully cooked some sweet potatoes in it. Life was hard for him; there was no meat, just some wilted vegetables stir-fried. The taste couldn't have been good, yet two of the students still held back tears as they said it was delicious.
The old man smiled happily. "I usually don't care much about food when I'm alone; I often eat one meal over two or three days. Now that you kids are here, I don't have much to offer you; instead, it's you who are suffering."
(To be continued.)
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