A top student arrives at the exam hall only to find the test papers missing...
Song Qing Shi was hit with an unprecedented blow. He scoured the area, finally conceding he couldn't find anyone. Based on the character of Fu Donglai described in the original work, he feared Qu Yurong had already met an unspeakable fate. Had he failed his mission?
He tried to seek guidance mentally from Master Mo Yuan...
Mo Yuan's magical formation was much more reliable than any erratic system AI, automatically popping up with an answer: Mission failed, exit immediately.
This was just a magical formation, not the real world. Being poor, unattractive, and mute was hardly entertaining.
Song Qing Shi was tempted to exit and settle for a consolation prize, but thinking of the boy in the room—intimately connected to Feng Jun in countless ways—made him uncomfortable. Unable to give up, he purchased some rice and food and headed home with a heavy heart, planning to see Wu Huan, prepare some food, and then reconsider his future plans...
Wu Huan sat on the bed, clothed, diligently practicing characters on a carved wooden plank, dipping his fingers in water as he wrote. Hearing familiar footsteps outside, he excitedly picked up the plank and offered it. "You're back! Look, did I write this correctly?"
The 14-year-old boy, now stripped of the guile and scheming he wore in the darkness, revealed his genuine self.
He had successfully escaped hell, prepared to start a new life, and new plans were forming in his mind.
Song Qing Shi hesitated as he looked at the plank. While the strokes were correct, the characters were jumbled and overlapping, rendering them unreadable. Unable to utter words of praise, he took Wu Huan's hand and placed it on his head, nodding vigorously as if to give wholehearted approval.
"You're really funny," Wu Huan was amused, touched his dry hair, and shyly asked, "So, if... I learn these characters, I'll be able to understand what you're saying, right?"
Song Qing Shi paused.
"You're so kind," Wu Huan said, cherishing the characters on the plank before lowering his head. He hid his now-flushed ears behind his long hair and whispered, "No one has ever treated me this well before."
He felt useless as a blind man, unable to think of any way to reciprocate.
"I have nowhere else to go, can you keep me?" Wu Huan carefully asked. "I may be blind, but I'm clever. I won't be a burden. I can cook, I can clean, and I'm willing to learn writing to understand you better. I can be your voice, speak for you..."
These offers were less compensation and more an imposition on the other person.
Wu Huan blushed with shame, somewhat grateful he couldn't see the other's reaction.
He felt like a drowning man clutching a piece of driftwood, desperate to pull himself ashore. Aware that the wood was too weak to support him, he was still unable to let go. He loathed himself for his own despicable actions...
Wu Huan's head lowered further, almost burying itself into the quilt.
Mist clouded Song Qing Shi's eyes, suspending his ability to think. His memories of Feng Jun and the figure before him, Wu Huan, melded together. It felt as though he had witnessed even more tragic episodes of Wu Huan in his lost memories. Just a fleeting thought of it twisted his heart in pain. No matter what Master Mo Yuan's mission might be, or whether this was illusion or memory, he didn't care anymore. All that mattered was that Wu Huan was part of Feng Jun's past.
The decision made, his heart instantly relaxed.
Song Qing Shi felt as if a weight had been lifted.
He wiped away his tears, sat beside Wu Huan's bed, and gently touched those beautiful eyes. With sincerity in his lips, he promised: "Don't be afraid; I won't leave you. I'll heal your eyes, your body, and your soul, no matter the difficulties. I will never give up."
"I feel like I heard your answer, deep within," Wu Huan clung to those gentle hands, bringing them close to his ear to feel the pulse of both hearts. This was a joy beyond words. Eventually, with tearful eyes, he murmured, "Thank you, I'm so happy."
Song Qing Shi picked up the wooden board and carving knife once again to resume teaching the script.
Wu Huan leaned closer, inhaling the clean medicinal scent that lingered around him.
Song Qing Shi took his hand and wrote strokes on the wooden board, time and again. For each new character, he used objects or gestures, making Wu Huan guess the word. Despite numerous incorrect guesses and some comical misunderstandings, Wu Huan would eventually arrive at the correct answer.
For example, he took a piece of blue stone to make Wu Huan understand that his name was "Qing Shi, Qing Shi, Qing Shi..."
Wu Huan felt around for a long while before understanding, "Your name is Stone."
Song Qing Shi: "..."
The two heads came together, laughter bubbling up. Even the most modest dwelling felt like the most comfortable nest.
...
If the exam papers in the exam hall were lost, then so be it. Maybe one day they would fly back?
Song Qing Shi decided not to give up, to stay by Wu Huan's side until Master Mo Yuan declared the mission a failure and kicked him out of the magic formation. Who knows? Perhaps he might stumble upon Qu Yurong. Sixty percent was acceptable if not a perfect score. If he failed, he'd beg the teacher for a retest.
Finding joy one day at a time, one year at a time...
Song Qing Shi had reconciled himself to the situation, his actions no longer constrained. He devoted all his energy to taking care of Wu Huan, from brewing medicinal herbs to rehabilitation exercises to personal hygiene. At first, when he helped Wu Huan with toilet duties in bed, the latter misunderstood and blushed furiously. After a lot of explaining, Wu Huan finally comprehended and cooperated.
He didn't dare resist, obediently undergoing treatment, yearning to escape the humiliating immobility of the bed.
Fortunately, Wu Huan had a wood-based spiritual root, which accelerated his recovery. With the aid of various herbal medicines, he spent about a month in bed, learned over two hundred characters, and was soon walking with the aid of a cane. Quickly adapting to the layout of the room, he learned how to tidy up after a few trials.
The burden on Song Qing Shi's shoulders considerably lightened.
His culinary skills were dismal at best; he could only manage to make plain rice porridge and clear noodle soup. Any attempt to make chicken broth resulted in a concoction of strange flavors—burnt and overpowering. Wuhuan almost threw up from the taste but bravely gulped it down, only to suffer from digestive issues and require several doses of medicine.
Filled with remorse, Song Qingshi vowed to improve his cooking skills.
Wuhuan finally understood why he was so thin and emphatically dissuaded him from further culinary experiments. Taking over the kitchen herself, she gauged the temperature of the steam by touch, memorized the seasoning and presentation, and mastered several types of porridge and soups through trial and error. She even figured out how to steam rice and buns, force-feeding Song Qingshi every day. Before bed, she would check his weight and bone density to see if he had gained any weight.
Once assured that he could manage the household chores, Song Qingshi focused on gathering herbs, alchemy, and cultivation. He had never cared much for money or the quality of life, but now that he had Wuhuan to support, he couldn't afford to be complacent.
Utilizing available resources, he crafted a variety of commonly used pills for sale. Unfortunately, he wasn't much of a talker and got swindled more often than not. Nevertheless, he didn't dwell on it. His efficiency in crafting high-quality pills was so great that he managed to secure a few orders, amassing some spirit stones along the way.
The ingredients for the Xuantian Taiming Pill weren't available locally. Tianxiang Tower had focused their search on Qu Yurong, but they had also looked for Wuhuan for nearly half a month. Believing she was either dead or kidnapped, they gave up the search. It was best for them to seize this opportunity to distance themselves, lest any mishaps allow Tianxiang Tower to discover Wuhuan's whereabouts.
Song Qingshi communicated with Wuhuan through simple gestures and writing.
Wuhuan's face had recovered; although still growing, her beauty was already mesmerizing. Song Qingshi pondered for a long time and crafted a special ointment that discolored her skin to a sallow and dark tone, reducing her original allure. The ointment could only be washed off with a special medicinal solution. While it slightly roughened the skin upon long-term usage, Wuhuan didn't mind.
Still thinking she wasn't ugly enough, Song Qingshi added some fake burn scars on her cheeks to cover her teardrop mole. He dressed her in ill-fitting, tattered clothes, hiding her elegant figure. With an old veil, she looked like a simple country girl.
He sold off all sellable items and bought a tiny mustard seed bag to carry his alchemy furnace. Then he visited a blacksmith to custom-make a medicine-man's staff. The blacksmith presented him with a staff that a previous customer had ordered but never picked up, selling it to him at a discounted rate.
When Song Qingshi received the staff, he was stunned.
It bore a striking resemblance to the staff of Ink Abyss, the Sword Master, in both size and shape. However, it was new and shiny, devoid of any complex inscriptions or magical arrays.
Perhaps... the design of such staffs is generally similar?
Song Qingshi shook the staff's bells to confirm their sound, and thought no more of it.
With his belongings neatly packed, Song Qingshi set off on their journey, staff in one hand and Wuhuan's hand in the other. They traveled through ancient towns and villages, bustling streets and narrow alleys. Most of the patients they encountered were from poor families. Song Qingshi would treat their illnesses while Wuhuan communicated with them. When they met literate scholars, they would waive the fee in exchange for some reading lessons for Wuhuan. Similarly, they'd ask carpenters to carve some books for them without charging.
They met many interesting people and encountered various delightful, troublesome, and dangerous situations.
Spring came and went, as did the heat of summer and the chill of winter.
Finally, Wuhuan succeeded in her foundation building.
He suddenly looked back and realized that a decade had swiftly passed.
The young man had grown taller, but the gentle demeanor and the scent of medicine remained unchanged.
With bells jingling, they crossed mountains and rivers, braved dragons' dens and tigers' pits, and witnessed the hustle and bustle of the human world.
But no matter where they went, what they encountered...
The hand that tightly held his never once let go.