Ning Que pushed open the red door, lifted the bead curtain, and walked into the dimly lit quiet room. He drank two big bowls of fish tail soup to sober him up, took a hot bath, and was heavily ravaged by the master chef on the bamboo bed where someone had died. The previous drunkenness had already faded by half, and he had become much more sober.
Looking at the woman with a perfect figure hidden in cloth clothes, her broad and smooth forehead, and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, Ning Que felt that it would be better if he were more drunk at this moment. He had vaguely guessed what he would face next. Although he always thought that the woman's strictness towards him was unreasonable, he had to admit that there was some care in her strictness. Therefore, he could not refuse and could only bear it with tears.
"I haven't seen you for a while. I thought you had started to cultivate yourself after entering the Academy and understood the importance of wanting to know and seeking knowledge. I didn't expect that you didn't learn much, but your courage to drink has increased a lot."
Mistress Jian looked at him calmly. There was no pain in her simple and kind eyes. She just spoke calmly and straightforwardly. But it was this kind of normal conversation that brought great pressure to Ning Que. He did not know what to say, so he forced himself to calm down and tried to smile to relieve the awkwardness. But unexpectedly, he burped, and the smell was very unpleasant.
Smelling the sour smell of alcohol in the room, Mistress Jian slightly frowned and glared at him unhappily. Then she smiled faintly and thought that her anger was unreasonable. She could not let the lad in front of her take the blame for that guy, could she? She looked at Ning Que and asked as calmly as possible, "Tell me what you have learned in the Academy these days."
Ning Que took the strong tea that Xiaocao handed over and hurriedly drank two mouthfuls to calm his mind. After sincerely thanking her, he cleared his throat unhurriedly and earnestly told Mistress Jian about his life in the Academy.
"You're quite diligent, but since you have no foundation in calligraphy and rites, you should spend more effort on these two subjects, and not just ignore them like a broken jar. You should know that after you leave the Academy in the future, whether you become an official in the imperial court or a herdsman, you will always need these skills. "
Hearing that Ning Que went to the old library every day, Mistress Jian smiled, and the wrinkles at the corner of her eyes deepened. She continued to ask, "Since you go to the old library every day, you must know about the Second floor?"
"Yes." Ning Que replied politely.
Mistress Jian thought for a while and then said seriously, "When do you think you can enter the Second Floor?"
Ning Que raised his sleeve to cover his mouth, forcibly suppressing the desire to burp or even vomit. He shook his head and replied, "Anyone who can enter that place is a cultivation genius. But my body can't carry out cultivation at all, so I dare not have any thoughts of entering the Second floor."
"Can't you grow up a little? It's rare for you to enter such a good place like the Academy, so you should cherish the opportunity to learn. Don't talk nonsense about being infatuated … "
Mistress Jian looked at him, frowning and shaking her head. She sighed at his lack of ambition. Years ago, she saw that guy riding a donkey and riding it all the way to the Second floor. Now she vaguely associated Ning Que with that guy in her heart, and inevitably had some thoughts of making up for the regret. She could not help but continue to persuade him, "The Academy itself is a place to create miracles. But if you don't think miracles can happen, then no one can help you."
Ning Que did not know that senior who rode a little black donkey straight into Chang 'an and finally made a name for himself in the world, but eventually disappeared like duckweed in the wind and rain. Naturally, he did not understand why Mistress Jian paid so much attention to a poor boy like him. He knew there must be some reasons behind this attention, but he did not care what those reasons were. In the face of a kind woman's earnest teaching, he was still sincerely grateful.
Because he had always lacked this part of his life. In his previous life, the back seat of a bicycle might be another form of care, but he did not like it. In this life, he also had it before he was four years old, but it was eventually swallowed by blood. Because he was sincerely grateful, or even moved, Ning Que answered Mistress Jian's questions carefully and seriously, and his speed was a little slow. But in Mistress Jian's eyes, this made her feel a little annoyed.
"You and I are neither relatives nor friends. If it were not for the passion in my heart, I would not have bothered to say these words to you. So don't have any negative feelings. I am not doing you any harm by asking you to cherish the opportunity to study in the Academy."
Mistress Jian looked at him seriously and said, "Last time I told you that rich young masters like Chu Youxian can play here, but a poor boy like you is not qualified to play here. Today it is even more so. Chang 'an noble ladies like Miss Situ and Miss Jin can play here, but you are not qualified to play here. They are close to you because they find you amusing and are temporarily curious about you. This interest is not necessarily malicious, but it is not real respect. "
"If you want to be their real friend, then you must have some ability and bearing that is worthy of their respect. If you can enter the Second floor of the Academy, I believe that everyone in the world will be willing to be your friend."
Mistress Jian picked up the Golden Orchid Dew on the table and took a sip to moisten her throat. Then she looked up at him and continued calmly, "In the future, you can come to the brothel to relax, but not too often. You can't drink too much. I am a nanny in the brothel, so I don't think that loitering in the brothel is a lowly behavior, but I also don't think that it is a good thing to do. Thirty years ago, the great poet Mr. Cao Cun spent the first half of his life in the brothel, but who dared to disrespect him? He even married the prime minister's daughter, but it was not because he had made a name for himself in the brothel, but because his poetry was unparalleled in the world and he was talented! "
"The Tang Empire values talent. As long as you have talent and you are a talent, no matter if you are upstairs or downstairs, inside or outside the brothel, a boy from the border town or a noble in Chang 'an, the empire will not bury you."
After the lecture, Ning Que went downstairs with his hand on his forehead and found that the gathering in the hall had ended. After asking the steward in the building, he found out that Eldest Young Miss Situ was the one who finally paid for the gathering of his classmates. When he heard this news and thought about how he could maintain his two thousand taels of silver for a while longer, he couldn't help but feel very lucky.
When he was about to say goodbye to Dewdrop and the others, the maidservant Xiaocao, who had received Mistress Jian's order, chased him to the horse carriage and ordered the coachman to send the drunken lad back to Lin 47th Street as fast as possible.
Sitting in the galloping horse carriage, Ning Que felt like dying, drunk, and nauseous. But somehow, his mind was clear and he kept thinking about that serious question, I did not hesitate to destroy my body and spirit to stay in the old library to enter the Second floor of the Academy. It was because I like it, but also because I want to take revenge and improve my strength. Do I have to add another reason in the future … to be able to roam the brothel?
When Ning Que was lost in his thoughts on the horse carriage, another guest came to Dewdrop's courtyard. As one of the popular girls in the House of Red Sleeves, she had the right to choose and even reject guests to a certain extent, except for regular guests like the censor Zhang Yiqi. But for this guest who just entered the courtyard late at night, she just forcibly wiped away the gloomy expression on her face and forced herself to pour tea for him.
"Go wash your face. A pretty girl like you can't be as dirty as me."
The guest who entered the courtyard late at night was a tall and thin old man wearing an extremely old Taoist robe. His robe was stained with oil stains here and there, and there seemed to be a few leftover rice grains between the lapels of the robe. It was extremely dirty. The tall and thin Taoist's face was not dirty, but there were a few sparse long beards under his chin. His inverted triangular eyes flickered, and his obscene and obscene aura was extremely dirty.
Dewdrop smiled and followed the maidservant to freshen up.
She only knew that this guest was important and was a distinguished guest who was personally invited by Mistress Jian. But she did not know who he was or what kind of business he did. As for external things such as appearance and clothes, they were never the focus of her or the maidservants' attention. What was important was that this Taoist had always been extremely generous. Moreover, he called himself the Primordial Spirit Protector. He had come two or three times, but he only took action and refused to be serious. There was no reason for the girls in the brothel not to like this kind of guest.
The dirty, skinny and tall Taoist poured himself a cup of wine and drank it slowly. Just as he was feeling bored, he saw a crumpled piece of paper beside the wine pot. It was the most ordinary paper for an account book. He could vaguely see the handwriting on it. Based on his habit of cultivating for decades, he instinctively picked up the crumpled paper and carefully spread it on the table.
There was a line of ink written on the crumpled paper. The words were unclear, and the frame was crooked and messy, which made it unpleasant to look at.
On the paper was written, "Young Master Sangsang, I'm drunk today and won't be coming back to sleep. Remember to drink the leftover chicken soup on the pot."
Looking at these words, the tall and thin daoist's brows furrowed tightly. But what was surprising was that when he furrowed his brows, he did not show disgust, but surprise and joy.
The tall and thin Taoist carefully read the words that looked like a chicken's claw. His eyes finally fell on the word "chicken soup" at the end of the sentence. His right hand, which was as skinny as an old tree trunk, dipped into the wine cup, and then put his fingers on the table and began to copy, stroke by stroke.
The wine on his fingers dragged on the mahogany table to form words, which were very similar to the word "chicken soup" written by Ning Que on the paper. Vaguely, there seemed to be streams of air flowing through the tall and thin Taoist's fingers into the wine, seeping into the depths of the hard mahogany, and then instantly dispersed into countless tiny cyclones and disappeared without a trace.
Dewdrop, who was dressing up outside the room, seemed to have sensed something. She looked at the reflection of the sky full of stars in the basin in front of her and was stunned. She did not know why she suddenly felt homesick. She missed the warm home that only existed in her imagination and had never appeared in her life. She missed the taste of her mother's chicken soup that she had never tasted before.
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