The world disappeared, and Ning Que woke up.
He looked at the corpses of ants in front of him, which were scattered into a pile of green leaves and ice gravel. After a while, he struggled to get up. He didn't know how long he had been in a coma. It might be long or short, but he knew it was very dangerous to lie in the middle of the street. Listening to the faint sound of bamboo flute and horse hooves, he bit his lower lip hard, forced himself to cheer up, and ran into an alley on the side with his tired and wounded body.
The blood on the bluestone street had disappeared without a trace. It was clean as if it had been washed by rain dozens of times and dried by the warm spring sun. He didn't notice where the blood on his body had gone. It was clean as if he had just taken a bath in the House of Red Sleeves for half a night.
He only had a vague impression of what had happened when he was in a coma. He had no memory of the magical fight between the Vermilion Bird and the big black umbrella at the end of the street.
Walking into the side alley, he quickly took off his outer shirt that was full of sword cuts. Only then did he notice that there was not a single trace of blood on his outer shirt. He was slightly startled and looked down at his body with difficulty. Indeed, there was not a single trace of blood. He could not help but have a strong suspicion in his heart. However, the situation was urgent and the government had been alerted. He had no time to think, so he directly tore off a piece of cloth and hung it on a branch. Then he threw the outer shirt into a house behind the wall.
The pain in his chest was still unbearable. The invisible spear that came from the heavens seemed to still be stuck in his chest. Every step he took made his face paler. Even the slightest tremble made him feel like the tear in his heart was getting bigger.
He stretched out his trembling hand and put it on a low wall. Then he jumped in with strength from his waist and abdomen. He quietly passed by a resident who was still sleeping in the cool morning. He took a cyan unlined shirt from a bamboo pole and quickly put it on.
He had prepared the best medicine for wounds, but when he was putting on his clothes, he took a quick look and was surprised to find that the bloody wounds caused by the flying swords on the surface of his body had already healed. This kind of healing was not a true recovery. It looked more like someone had used fire to forcefully scorch his body. Only the bleeding had stopped, but the injuries were still there.
Ning Que made his way through the streets and alleys of the Eastern City of Chang 'an in the last of the night. From time to time, he would hide behind trees and climb to the top of eaves to avoid the approaching hooves of horses and the sharper sounds of bamboo flutes.
When he finally got close to Lin 47th Street, he found that he couldn't go back to the Old Brush Pen Shop to treat his wounds, because the yamen runners of the Chang 'an Local Government with iron rulers and ropes had begun to knock on every door to inquire.
Ning Que frowned as he looked at those shop doors that had been knocked open. He raised his hand to cover his mouth and forcibly suppressed the strong urge to cough. He stepped back into the shadow of the alley and leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.
An ordinary-looking carriage appeared at the entrance of the alley, with the Academy's logo printed on the shaft.
Ning Que hid in the darkness and stared at the horse carriage that took him to the Academy every day. He listened carefully to the sounds of shops opening in the alley from time to time and silently counted the time in his heart.
He kicked the wall with his tired right foot and exerted the last strength of his weak body. He rushed into the alley and opened the door of the carriage with his right hand as fast as lightning.
The yamen runner who was questioning the owner of the old antique shop in the alley vaguely saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head in astonishment and found that there was no one at the entrance of the alley except for a horse carriage quietly parked there.
"Why is there a horse carriage parked here so early?" The yamen runner frowned and muttered to himself, ready to go and have a look.
The owner of the antique shop, who was wearing a thin coat, yawned and glanced at the horse carriage at the entrance of the alley. He explained casually, "That's the horse carriage that takes Boss Ning to the Academy. It's waiting here every day at this time."
Hearing the word "Academy", the yamen runner stopped and laughed at himself. He turned around to look at the owner of the antique shop and said with emotion, "It's really rare that someone from our street can enter the Academy."
In the horse carriage, Ning Que watched the yamen runner and the owner of the antique shop talking at the stone steps. After confirming that there was no problem, he put down the curtain and gently knocked on the window lattice. He said in a tired voice, "Old Duan, we can go now."
The coachman, Old Duan, was startled and turned around to look at Ning Que behind the curtain. He said in surprise, "Boss Ning? When did you get on the carriage? Why didn't I know? You're up early today. "
"I didn't review the lesson plan of the Etiquette Department yesterday, so I'm in a hurry to go to the Academy to read it again." Ning Que explained in a low voice. Then his expression changed slightly. He lowered his body and coughed violently, hurriedly covering his mouth with his sleeve.
Listening to the suppressed but heart-wrenching coughing in the carriage, the coachman asked with concern, "Are you alright?"
Ning Que answered, "It was too hot last night. I gluttonous ate two bowls of ice and washed several buckets of well water. I think I caught a cold."
The coachman turned around and held the reins with one hand and gently waved the whip with the other. He said with a smile, "Heat is the most troublesome. But you're young and vigorous. You'll be fine after drinking some cooling tea when you get back to the shop."
Hearing the word "vigorous", Ning Que did not know why his heart palpitated. He was slightly startled and looked down at his sleeve. He found that it was stained with two smears of blood that he coughed up, so he gently held the corner of the sleeve in his hand.
…
…
The Southern City of Chang 'an was a noble place, and the lakeside house was even more noble. People who were qualified to live in such a place were either rich or noble. Although Yan Suqing, the tea master, was not allowed in the imperial court, he still had some fame in the upper circle of celebrities. The previous deadly fight in the lakeside house had already alarmed other lakeside residents. When they found that Yan Suqing, the tea master, was beheaded, the Chang 'an Local Government and even the Yulin Royal Guards immediately began a serious investigation.
At this time, the city gate had just opened, which was a good time to block the murderer in the city. The local government runners of the Chang 'an Local Government inquired everywhere, the Yulin Royal Guards guarded the streets, and the inspection at the city gate was extremely strict.
But no matter how strict the inspection was, there were still some differences. At least for the carriage with the logo of the Academy, which was responsible for sending students to study in the Academy, the solemn City Gate Guard just casually asked a few questions, and then lifted the curtain to take a look, and then waved his hand to let go.
Ning Que lifted the curtain and looked at the hole of the city gate, thinking that if the bloodstains on his body had not been completely annihilated, it would have been really difficult for him to pass today. At this time, he did not know that the bloodstains on the Vermilion Bird Avenue had also been completely evaporated and purified, leaving no trace. Otherwise, the cavalrymen of the Yulin Royal Guards would have already followed the bloodstains to catch up with him, who was exhausted and seriously injured.
With the sound of hooves and wheels, the first ray of morning light fell on Chang 'an City, shining on the young boy's innocent cheeks, which made his pale face even paler. He could not help but squint his eyes, thinking of the black sunshine in that world and the many puzzling things that happened to him tonight. He subconsciously shook his head, and then hid the knife under the board of the carriage.
When the carriage arrived at the Academy, Ning Que slowly and calmly walked into the Academy. The stone path, which used to be lush with flowers and grass, seemed so long today, and every step was so painful. In order to not let others see his injuries and abnormalities, he had to endure no matter how severe the pain in his chest was, and could not even raise his eyebrows.
Ning Que could not attend classes in such a state. He knew that if he insisted on attending classes, it was very likely that he would spit out a mouthful of blood and die on the spot in front of the instructors and classmates. Therefore, he directly passed through the quiet side alley of the Academy, and slowly walked across the wetland in the morning light, coming to the front of the old library.
The old library was open to students day and night. It was still early at this time, and neither the instructors nor the four deacons were in. Ning Que pushed the back of the building, and then slowly climbed upstairs with his right hand on the wall.
When he arrived at the familiar second floor, Ning Que was silent for a moment as he looked at the dense cultivation books on the bookshelves. Suddenly, he had a strong urge to read, because he had a very ominous feeling — this would be the last time in his life to go upstairs, and also the last chance to read these precious books.
In the end, he did not take out the books from the bookshelves to read, nor did he have the energy to see if the guy named Chen Pipi had left a message. He wearily walked to the end of the bookshelves, walked to the floor under the west window, and sat down.
Later, the female professor would come to copy her Hairpin-style Small Regular Script, right? If she saw him like this, how could he explain to her? Perhaps later he would close his eyes and never wake up again, so why bother to explain?
Because of the excessive blood loss, and also because of the mysterious injuries and collisions inside his body, Ning Que's thoughts were extremely chaotic. He was like those willow catkins floating in the spring wind, light as a feather, without any strength and direction.
He looked down at his chest, feeling the feeling of emptiness and the unbearable tearing pain in the emptiness. Subconsciously, he raised his trembling right hand and slowly touched it.
Ning Que did not touch the spear from the sky, nor did he touch the blood, but he felt that his hand was full of sticky blood, and he was very sure that his chest was indeed pierced by the spear.
An invisible big hole.
Was he going to die inexplicably like this? Ning Que thought painfully, and at the same time, he felt endless sleepiness in his mind. He felt that his eyelids had become as heavy as lead, and he kept trying to close them.
He untied the big black umbrella behind him and gently put it beside him. Then, he wearily leaned against the wall behind him, slowly closed his eyes, and let out a relaxed sigh. His legs were naturally relaxed and opened.
Just like that rainy day when Zhuo Er sat under the gray wall.
Soft footsteps came from the building, and the slender female professor slowly walked over. Seeing Ning Que sitting under the wall, her eyebrows slowly furrowed, and her eyes fell on the big black umbrella beside the lad.
The female professor looked at the big black umbrella and slightly frowned. When she looked at Ning Que again, there was a trace of interest and inquiry on her tranquil face. "What made the Vermilion Bird angry … is it you, or this big black umbrella?"
She calmly looked at the lad on the verge of death. Somehow, she did not want to help him, but just sighed softly and regretfully said, "Speaking of which, I'm really curious. Why does a poor lad with no cultivation potential have so many secrets that even I can't see through?"
"Because of the promise, I can't help you. Otherwise, I really want to see what you will become after you come back to life." The female professor's eyes were clear and beautiful, showing a kind of childish beauty that did not match her age. She looked at Ning Que on the ground and said, "I will ask for leave for you, and hope that Haotian can give you luck and let you live. If you can't survive this time, don't blame me. Blame yourself for appearing one or two years too early."
After a while, she brought a bowl of water and two steamed buns and put them beside him. Then, she returned to the desk by the east window and continued to write Hairpin-style Small Regular Script, as if she did not know that there was a dying lad not far behind her.
Outside the window, the morning light gradually became brighter, and the cicadas chirped. (To be continued. If you like this work, please come to Qidian.Com to vote for me. Your support is my greatest motivation.)
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