"Sir, what are you doing here?"
Li Mo greeted sowhat sheepishly.
The old scholar stared at Li Mo, leaning back slightly before his face instantly darkened, as if facing a formidable enemy.
"None of your business. Go play sowhere else and don’t cause trouble here."
"What’s wrong with this child?"
Ying Xuliang asked in confusion. He only knew that Brother Li’s child had been frail since birth and might share so sympathy with Bing'er.
He hadn’t expected the teacher to react so strongly upon seeing Li Mo, as if his fur had been ruffled.
The old scholar, fuming, began recounting Li Mo’s "glorious exploits" in ticulous detail:
"On his very first day of school, he blew up the outhouse with firecrackers."
Ying Xuliang chuckled, thinking the teacher was overreacting:
"Well, haha, boys will be boys. Most of us have done sothing like that as kids. I even joined Brother Li in blowing up cow dung once."
"I was inside at the ti," the old scholar gritted his teeth.
"......"
Ying Xuliang fell silent for a mont before forcing a smile to console him:
"Boys will be mischievous, but it’s through a teacher’s guidance that they grow into proper n. Just teach him well."
"That’s exactly what I thought. But not long after, he and his classmates held a contest in my garden to see who could pee the farthest. My precious orchids, which I’d nurtured for years—all dead."
The old scholar clutched his chest in anguish.
"Well, uh... don’t they say organic fertilizer is good for plants? And the school outhouse had collapsed at the ti..."
Li Mo’s voice trailed off weakly.
"Who blew up the outhouse?!" The old scholar’s eyes bulged.
Beside Ying Xuliang, Ying's mother covered her mouth, her eyes twinkling with amusent.
Qinghe County was small, and the couple had once been students of the old scholar themselves, classmates with Li Dalong.
"Teacher, relieving oneself outdoors isn’t such a big deal..."
"Ask him who he did it with!"
"??"
Li Mo blinked in confusion.
The antics of his childhood were already hazy after so many years, and the awakening of his prenatal mories had blurred them further.
"He took a little girl with him! Taught her to pee standing up and competed to see who could go farther!"
"......"
Young Li Mo fell into deep thought.
Had he really done sothing that legendary?
All he rembered were the incidents that left the old scholar "righteously furious."
Ying's mother’s smile froze, and her gaze toward him grew noticeably more cautious, as if sizing up a tiny terrorist.
Ying Xuliang laughed awkwardly:
"Jade must be carved to beco a vessel, jade must be carved..."
"The problem is, this little demon can’t even grasp the sages’ teachings. Just like his father, he’s not cut out for studying."
"'A man must have principles'—that’s what my dad taught ..."
Li Mo scratched the back of his head.
"Anyway, Miss Bing is already ill and shouldn’t be agitated. I only dared to let her attend school because this little troublemaker wasn’t there anymore."
The old scholar shook his head, his anger fading into a sigh.
The boy was mischievous, but clever—just not in ways that served his studies.
Seeing no sign of the "ice block," Li Mo grew anxious.
To untie the bell, one must find the one who tied it.
This was a dreamscape ford from Bing'er’s emotions and mories. If he couldn’t et its owner, how could he break the illusion?
Ti was also running short—he couldn’t wait for days to pass in the dream before trying again.
The calamity beast would strike the Ying household tonight.
But!
He was Li Mo, the prodigy!
Especially when it ca to charming old n—he had a reputation to uphold.
"Sir, a prodigal’s return is more precious than gold. Truth is, I did pay attention in class."
"What exactly did you learn?"
"You once wrote a poem just for , urging to study."
Li Mo clasped his hands solemnly, spinning his tale with conviction:
"Sadly, I was too young to appreciate its wisdom. Only now do I understand the depth of your care."
"?"
The old scholar stroked his beard, puzzled.
When had he ever written such a poem?
For a scholar who prized his reputation, composing a masterpiece was unforgettable, no matter how aged. Besides, with Li Mo around, he’d been too busy fearing for his life to even think of poetry.
But Li Mo had already picked up a stick and begun writing in the dirt with theatrical precision.
Thanks to the relentless drilling of compulsory education, reciting classics was second nature to him—not just textbook verses, but many extracurricular gems his teachers had shared.
For motivational student pieces, the the of "exhortation to study" was evergreen.
After discarding mismatched options, he settled on one.
"Youth fades as learning thrives, $2ot a mont to waste arrives.
Unaware of spring’s green dream, $2utumn chills the wutong’s stream."
Hm?
Ying's mother, born into a scholarly family, had an eye for literature. The poem gave her pause.
Onlookers—guests and Ying clansn alike—crowded around, murmuring in admiration.
"This... I..."
The old scholar flushed, flustered.
The verse was exquisite, but he’d had no hand in it.
"This was originally my crude attempt, which you polished and returned to . You even said you’d hang it at the school entrance to inspire others."
Li Mo smoothly offered the old man an out—loudly, ensuring the crowd heard.
Praise rained down, with guests vowing to enroll their children in his school.
The flood of flattery left the old scholar glowing, his chest swelling with pride:
"This little... ahem, Li Mo does show promise. Finally applying himself to study!"
"Return to school after the New Year, and keep this up!"
"Thank you for your guidance, sir!"
Li Mo bowed earnestly, hands clasped.
Ying Xuliang watched the beaming teacher, then studied the boy with a deeper gaze.
"Uncle Ying, may I visit Sister Bing now? I won’t cause any trouble."
"Very well. Wife, take Li Mo with you."
Ying Xuliang nodded. Since his wife was heading there anyway to deliver a al, she led Li Mo through the sprawling Ying estate.
The mansion was far grander than he rembered—elegant, refined, a world apart from the Li family’s rustic compound.
As a child, he hadn’t noticed, but now it struck him: no ordinary Eastern Wasteland Domain county town could boast such splendor.
"How has Sister Bing'er been lately?"
"She’s fallen strangely ill."
Ying's mother sighed.
"Her body turns icy in waves, and she refuses to speak. We hoped sending her to school might help—being around children her age..."
Mid-sentence, she caught herself. Why was she confiding in a child?
Conversation lapsed as they reached the secluded courtyard’s side chamber.
The door was shut, but cold seeped through the cracks.
........
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