"Maybe what I'm fighting for at the risk of my life is meaningless in itself.

Thinking of all the hard work recently, all the insomnia and painful feelings, and Sangsang taking care of him with a hot towel these nights, Ning Que laughed at himself, and couldn't help but be a little disappointed. Indeed, it was very difficult for an ordinary person to enter the cultivation realm. The more effort you put in, the more bleak it seems.

A brush filled with ink hangs in the air for a long time. With a soft "Smack!" A drop of ink fell on the snow-white paper. The ink quickly scatters along the fibers of the paper and then takes on an irregular aesthetic.

When Ning Que stared at the group of inkblots, something suddenly touched in his heart. The sadness and disappointment in his heart were thoroughly washed away and turned into absolute calm. At this moment, he figured everything out in his head. Not every love experience can be a happy memory. Not every fairy tale can have a happy ending, and similarly, not all efforts are rewarded. Even if you try very hard, the ending, for the most part, doesn't depend on you, so you should enjoy the process.

If there is nothing noteworthy about the sublime, you should ignore it. If you don't know what to pay attention to, you can write something else, such as your mood, your own experiences, how you feel in the old library, the sight of a quiet female professor by the east window, accompanied by pink walls and old and new branches, and the sunset in the direction of the west window......

"Keep up, up, up! Before, I was always bound and annoyed by such thoughts, but now, everything stops. I used to be just a woodcutter in Shubi Lake, so it was obviously not the right time for me, so why should I forcibly imitate others?

Scribbled on the paper, without any special thoughts, he just wrote a few words casually according to his current mood. As the clear and gorgeous words on the paper emerged one after another, the most annoying emotions in his chest gradually disappeared, as if the ink had been scattered by the brush.

"Since I tried to study cultivation in the old library, I have been doing 17 consecutive days of repentance. Unfortunately, however, I was unable to recite any of the words and had no choice but to watch them escape. Once, I realized and entered some dark and sweet dreams, but eventually they always disappeared.

"If these words on paper are illusory, why can I see them? If they're real, why can't I remember them? If they exist between reality and illusion, is the ink that presents them real or illusory, and the paper that shows them real or illusory?

Then, Ning Que stopped writing, not wanting to continue, because it was just a kind of casual, informal note. Putting down the brush, he quietly looked at the words on the paper. When the paper dried, he gently slipped it into the thin book and put it back on the shelf. Later, he turned around, politely bowed to the female professor by the east window, and went downstairs.

For the first time in the past few days, Ning Que walked down the stairs alone without being held.

Looking at the disappointed back of the young man, the female professor sighed softly, silently thinking about the rules set by the teacher before the old library: although a student has countless branches, he can only choose one branch. Ning Que was strong-willed, so the spiritual power he collected from meditation must also be strong. However, the snow mountains and qi sea in his body were very poor, which was the premise of cultivation. If he continued to cultivate, he would end up lying on the bed, vomiting blood and pale. Even if Haotian took pity on his tenacity and perseverance and gave him health, what good would it do him if he continued to study like this for the next 80 years?

At that time, as night fell, the color of the sky became darker. No one will go upstairs today. After sorting out the calligraphy and stationery in front of her, the female professor walked along a path in the direction of the back mountain.

After a while, the pitch-black night enveloped the academy and the mountain behind it. The lights inside the academy, surrounded by wide grass, scattered like stars in the sky.

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

A fat elementary school in a dark cyan academic robe squeezed out of the crack with anger. Then, angrily, he turned his head, stared at the bookshelf, and complained, "Who is in charge of this design?" Can't the outlet be a little bigger? Didn't he expect that the academy would one day admit a few fat people?

The fat young man muttered and walked over to the bookshelf and complained, "Second brother is not a good person! Why does he insist on betting on the content of a primer? Although I am a genius, it is impossible for me to remember what I read when I was very young.

He muttered to himself as he pulled out a thin book from the shelf. Looking at the few words on the cover of "A Preliminary Exploration of the Qihai Snow Mountain", he patted it gently with satisfaction. With his slapping, a thin piece of white paper flew out.

Looking at the paper falling at his feet, the chubby young man named Chen Pipi quickly rolled his eyes, his bulging cheeks slightly wrinkled, trying to express his suspicions. After much deliberation, he finally made the difficult decision to painfully lay down his plump body and reach out his chubby, rather cute short hand to pick up the paper, and after eating, he gasped for breath for a while.

"Being fat is really the saddest thing in the world."

fluttering with thick, plump and tender lips, tangerine peel muttered with a kind of pretentious self-pity. Then he looked down at what was written on the paper and read it unconsciously, "One more level, one more layer, all my sorrows are now gone." I used to be a young woodcutter at Shubi Lake, why should I be submissive and complain about the cold weather when autumn is not yet coming......"

"Being fat is not actually the saddest thing in the world, if a person can be fat and genius at the same time." He looked at the handwriting with pity, guessing that it could be the painful inner declaration of some freshman in the academy. He shook his head and said sympathetically: "Compared with a genius like me, an ordinary and ordinary person like you is what really makes you miserable."

The worlds of mortals and geniuses are so distinct. Chen Pipi thought that he could understand the frustration and despair of this poor fellow, but he did not intend to take such pain as his own. So, with a casual remark, he stuffed the paper back on the bookshelf, preparing to leave with the volume of "A Beginner's Exploration of the Sea of Qi and the Snow Mountain" that he had come to find.

But suddenly, he turned around again, pulled out the piece of paper again, and looked at the handwriting on it. He raised his thick eyebrows and muttered in surprise, "This guy has a lot of talent in calligraphy!"

He shoved the paper back into the shelf, and as he was about to leave, he turned back to it, pulled it out for the third time, looked at it intently for a moment, and exclaimed, "Actually, he is not only very talented, but indeed very talented!"

Seeing himself back and forth, Chen Pipi admitted that he was acting ridiculously. He looked at the note left by the poor fellow and muttered to himself, "Maybe Haotian God is so merciful to you that he actually used your big calligraphy as a means to induce me to help you?"

A trivial excuse is often the only need someone needs to make a decision, even if the excuse is fabricated. For Chen Pipi tonight, he didn't know that what he was about to do would change a person's life in some sense, but he was ready to keep doing it, just because he wanted to. In this respect, he is much more straightforward than some poor lads.

Chen Pipi sat at the desk by the east window, the stars dimmed, and read with some curiosity the words written by the poor stranger. The sound of his plump fingers tapping on the window echoes the song of birds at night.

"Since I practiced in the Old Library, I have been engaged in penance for seventeen consecutive days. Unfortunately, however, I was unable to recite any of the words and had no choice but to watch them escape. At one point, I realized and entered some dark and sweet dreams, but they always end up disappearing.

"If these words on paper are illusory, why can I see them? If they're real, why can't I remember them? If they exist between reality and illusion, is the ink that created them real or illusory, and the paper that shows them real or illusory?

After reading the content on the paper, Chen Pipi pursed his lips and looked quite indifferent, just like a boy who has eaten countless bowls of authentic hot dry noodles in Xicheng and met a poor young man who doesn't know how to fry his own copycat version of hot sauce noodles. This made him feel extremely proud and infinitely superior from the bottom of his heart.