"Why do you want to see what this world is like?" Wu Zhu seemed to be thinking about something. "Where you are standing right now, isn't it part of this world?"
Fan Xian didn't know how to answer. Since he came from another world, he was naturally interested in many aspects of this world. And the question that had been bothering him for the longest time was: how did he come to this world?
Six years ago, when Teacher Fei Jie was still teaching in Danzhou, he had mentioned the Temple. At the time, Fan Xian had thought that for him, a dying patient on Earth, to become this young man, other than a miracle, what other explanation could there be? So he was very curious about the temple, and wanted to see what was there.
As for the capital, it was also a place he wanted to go. He didn't know if Fan Ruoruo would be able to live a happy life under the tyranny of her stepmother. And after being separated from Fei Jie for a few years, he also wanted to visit that cute, perverted old man.
Most importantly, in his previous life, he had been bedridden for a long time, and in this life, he had been trapped in Danzhou as a child for a long time. In contrast to his current life, a fire began to burn in Fan Xian's heart. This fire was enough to burn his spirit and stimulate his desires. He wanted to do something, to obtain something.
Peace and ambition, power and happiness, love and beauty … these were not words that matched, and were even incompatible with each other. They flashed through his mind like floating lights. After thinking for a long time, he carefully replied, "If people only have one life, then they need to see different things and meet different people. Only then can they enjoy the game that can't be repeated."
This was Fan Xian's heartfelt words. In his previous life, on his deathbed, he had thought about how he would live his next life if he had another.
Wu Zhu asked, "What are your plans?"
"First of all, I need to ensure that I can live." Fan Xian crouched down and threw another stone. This time, he didn't use any force, so the stone smashed into the gray reef below. "So I need to have the ability to protect myself."
"And then?"
"And then I set three goals for myself."
Wu Zhu listened quietly.
"First, I want to have many, many children. Second, I want to write many, many books. Third, I want to live a very, very good life. "
Fan Xian calmly spoke of such absurd things, without a trace of embarrassment.
In the depths of his heart, since this world was not Earth, then he could be considered the only representative of Earthlings in this world. According to biological principles, as the representative of human flesh and blood heritage, he should have the obligation to give birth to many children in this world.
At the same time, he believed that he was also the representative of the human cultural heritage on Earth. How many beautiful artistic achievements had human beings created since ancient times? How could they not be found in this world? If he didn't write (or copy?), he would have There were many, many books that allowed cultural heritages like Cao Xueqin and Kill Bill to shine in this lonely world. He really felt sorry for those lonely sages in the parallel universe … Of course, most importantly, he felt sorry for himself.
Naturally, he also regarded himself as the only representative of the humans on Earth to observe this world. Therefore, he had to ensure that he lived a comfortable life. Only in this way could he prolong his life and observe for a few more years.
It was not until many years later that Fan Xian shyly admitted to himself that he was merely seeking a great memorial arch for his deeply hidden lust, shamelessness, and greed.
On the cliff by the sea, Wu Zhu seemed to need some time to understand what Fan Xian meant by these three goals. Calmly, he analyzed, "Then you need to marry many wives, find many poets, and hire many servants."
"Poets?" Fan Xian knew that scholars and poets often used this phrase, but he still did not quite understand.
"Scholars who specialize in writing manuscripts for others. They don't have the right to sign their names."
Fan Xian smiled, thinking that he was prepared to use the likes of Old Cao and Old Sha as his sharpshooters. Naturally, he did not need those poets. As he was thinking, he heard Wu Zhu's calm and overly simple analysis.
"If you want to marry many wives, hire many servants, and find many poets, you need to earn a lot of money. If you want to earn a lot of money, you need a lot of power. If you need a lot of power, you need to be closer to the center of power in this country. "
Wu Zhu turned and left. "When you turn sixteen, we will return to the capital."
Behind him, Fan Xian continued to stand at the edge of the cliff in a daze. He thought to himself that he had only revealed a few of his thoughts that were not too excessive. How could this powerful warrior, who had some mental issues, infer that it was related to the power of a country? And he had so decisively made the decision to return to the capital. Fan Xian naturally remembered that on the day he was born into this world, Wu Zhu had carried him out of the capital.
He slapped his face hard to get rid of this feeling of not knowing whether to laugh or cry. He ran to catch up and said with a smile, "Uncle, I've confided in you. Shouldn't you give me something in return?"
"What do you want to know?"
"About my mother. Why are we being hunted in the capital?"
"I will tell you everything about Miss when you turn sixteen. This is Miss' last will. As for the people who are hunting us, you don't need to know, because they all died ten years ago. "
— — —
By the time they returned to Danzhou Harbor, it was already noon. Fan Xian and Wu Zhu parted ways outside the city and entered the city alone. The residents of the city had long since become accustomed to the young master of Fan Manor wandering around outside the city. Although there were no large beasts near Danzhou, and no dangerous places, some people still felt that the Count's estate did not care about the safety of their illegitimate son.
After all, in the eyes of the people, Fan Xian was still a boy of eleven or twelve years old.
The residents of Danzhou, who had nothing to do all day and did not have to pay taxes to the imperial court, were always so idle that they could infer some very strange ideas from many things. For example, some people in the Count's estate hoped that the illegitimate son would be eaten by strange beasts in the wild, or fall off a cliff and die.
Thinking that the little boy, who always had a cute smile on his face, was actually living in such a dangerous mansion, everyone couldn't help but feel some palpitating pleasure.
Fan Xian did not know what the passersby were thinking. He kept his bashful smile on his face, lowered his head, and returned to the Count's estate.
Knowing that he would be back for dinner, all the servants were waiting for him. The Countess sat in the armchair, her eyelids half-closed, as if she was sleepy.
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