The Turtle Mountain Daoist looked sorrowful, raising his face, and said, "Look at the tip of my nose, it's blood that hasn't been wiped clean. I'm just a lingering soul, and yet I have a nosebleed."
"I can't even say if this is good or bad." He said worriedly.
"I can ask for you, can't I."
Zhou Xuan shouted up to the second floor, "Ya Zi, come down."
"Calling me again, how am I supposed to study? I want to improve too."
After the sound of Zhao Wuya packing books again, he came down the stairs impatiently.
"What do you want from me?" Zhao Wuya asked.
"Lower your head, call out Master Wu Ya Zen."
"I wondered what it was. I really wish I could split myself in half; one half Wu Ya Zen for you, so you won't always interrupt my reading and studying."
Zhao Wuya couldn't win the argument verbally, but still obediently lowered his head. When he looked up again, he exuded an aura of solemnity.
"Great Master, summoning this monk again?"
