In the study, the young scholar who was sweeping away dust and dust was no longer there.
In just six days, the bookshelf was covered with dust, and the edges of the books were slightly yellowed, showing a bit of antiquity.
During the day, there would have been some poor and cold boys and girls, but amid the laughter, they came to the study room to learn how to pray.
But these days, the study has been so deserted that it reveals a bit of loneliness, as quiet as a tomb.
Mr. Meng may be old and a little tired. Without Ji Ting's help, he is too lazy to clean the spider webs under the corner of the house.
In the early morning, winter snow started again.
There were very few pedestrians on the street. When someone hurried past the study, they would cast a suspicious look at Yun Rong and Bai Lian.
They didn't dare to look more. After a quick glance, they looked back, lowered their heads and continued on their way.
Balian came to Mr. Meng who was pruning branches and leaves in front of the window sill and politely said softly: "Mr. Meng, I've been annoying you these past few days."
The old gentleman seems to be somewhat deaf. After all, for an old man who even has age spots on the back of his hands, it is normal for him to be blind and deaf.
He continued to hum a tune, his withered old hands pruning the flowers and grass a little unsteady and trembling.
Accidentally, the not-so-sharp scissors scratched a piece of flesh on his fingertips, and dark red, somewhat black, sticky blood seeped out from the wound.
Before the blood dripped into the flowers, grass and soil, the old man tremblingly guarded his fingers and sucked twice.
Balian didn't care whether the old man could hear him clearly or not. He took out a banknote from his arms and put it on the window sill. He said, "I've been bothering you for a long time these days. Although Ji Ting doesn't charge rent, after all, Mr. Meng, you are the owner of this shop."
Mr. Meng's eyes were dim and he squinted at the brand new banknote on the window sill, with a layer of dead greenness in his cloudy eyes.
He rolled his eyes, opened his wrinkled eyelids a little, looked at Balian and shook his head.
The old man shook his head, but accepted the brand new banknote without saying a word.
Balian was not in a good mood today and had no desire to continue reading. He said to Master Fourth Sword who was still squatting in the small corner: "Miss Yunrong, I want to go back early today, what about you?"
As the Fourth Sword Master who reads and waits every day, he will not leave this study so early.
Balian quickly left the study, but did not return to the inn immediately. He went to the Bashu Noodles restaurant opened by an old woman across the street, ordered two bowls of hot, non-spicy noodle soup, and returned to the study.
A copy was placed at Yun Rong's feet, but she didn't get any response from her.
Balian smiled and gave another portion of hot noodle soup to Mr. Meng.
In the cold winter, he knew that the old man's hands and feet were stiff, so he opened the food box for him, arranged chopsticks and spoons, and carefully said: "Sir, it's cold, you must eat on time, otherwise you will feel uncomfortable with a cold stomach."
Mr. Meng's hunched figure sitting in front of the window lattice looked a little cold, but his originally cloudy eyes became much clearer under the fumigation of the hot noodles.
He didn't touch the bowl of hot noodle soup in front of him, as if he couldn't hear Balian's words. He stared quietly into the void with no expression on his face and hummed an incomprehensible tune.
Just when Balian left the study for the second time, the old man's voice behind him sounded slowly, like sand flowing in an ancient river: "It's been a long time since a child bought me hot, fresh noodles. .”
He has opened this bookstore for forty years. Every year, young people who cannot afford to go to school come to his place to read and study.
Those teenagers don't have money, so they usually huddle in the crowd, bullying them into being old and stupid, and reading these books for nothing.
It's just that some books of sages are too mysterious and obscure to be interpreted.
Seeing that these children from a bitter cold background were in difficult conditions, he not only had no complaints about them reading books for free, but also patiently explained to them the mysteries in the classics.
Seeing that he was kind-hearted, the children gradually saved the remaining coins from their homes. Everyone collected enough money for a bowl of noodles and brought a bowl of hot noodle soup to the old man every morning.
A thousand books can't bring about a moment of happiness, but a meal can bring about a lifelong feeling, and a humble gift can turn into happiness.
Over time, young people gradually get used to accepting the kindness of the elderly.
Thanks to the old man's selflessness and his leisurely teaching, most of these bitter young men entered the academy and became knowledgeable students. Even in the bitter cold, they were considered successful.
Those who are successful and famous fill the border towns with glitz.
Who would have thought that there was an old man teaching and reading at night in the old city.
For the students of the border town colleges, although their life is far better than that of ordinary people in the border towns, it is still far inferior to that of a sweeper in the inner city.
They knew that the old man came from Baimu Academy in the inner city. Even though he was full of glory, he was unwilling to come here again and bring shame on himself.
Anyway, the elderly should have no less than them.
The few remaining people were disappointed after failing the exam. They watched the prosperous country people gradually become famous and were protected by the university, but they themselves were still suffering from cold and poverty.
In contrast, the feeling of disparity made me feel a little bit of blame and complaint towards the old man.
They are all obviously taught by you. They are obviously saving their own rations and spending the same amount of money to buy hot soup noodles for the elderly every day.
Why can others achieve success while I suffer from hunger and cold?
You are partial and you teach with something to hide.
This kind of young people who feel that their fate is unfair and that the elderly are unfair are unwilling to save money to buy soup noodles every day.
But some young people who are sincere in their studies and enthusiastic in repaying the elderly are so poor that they can only buy a few green onions with a few pennies because they are single and unable.
Over time, it was no longer possible to see a bowl of hot noodle soup served by the lively young man Lang in this old study.
Balian walked out of the study, and from the other side of the window, there was the sound of soft slurping and eating noodles.
The old man's humming and murmuring tune finally stopped.
Just after leaving the study, at the corner, Fang Geyu was dressed in a pure white crane feather cloak robe, holding a sword and standing against the wall. His voice was as arrogant as before: "You still run here every day."
Bailian said: "I won't come tomorrow."
Fang Geyu was quiet for a moment, and then said: "Three nights ago, Meng Chengzhi was killed under the Imperial Monument in the inner city when he committed suicide."
Bai Lian didn't look surprised at all, he just gave a faint hum, and then asked calmly: "Apology? Is it because of Ji Ting's disappearance?"
"Yes and no."
The heavy snow blows and the wind blows on people's faces with a biting chill.
Fang Geyu got under his glass umbrella and said calmly: "The reason is that Lan Youdie submitted a warrant for arrest. She has a personal maid beside her who has been missing for three months. A few days ago, she went to the old well of Shanzhai in the inner city. Her body was found.
Later, in the border towns, young boys and girls always disappeared, and the three brothers and sisters of the Ji Ting family were among them. The first to disappear was the second sister of the Ji family, then the third sister, and finally Ji Ting.
Lan Youdie followed this clue and found the head of Meng Chengzhi. Three days ago that night, Meng Chengzhi was cornered by three thousand defenders in the inner city. He confessed and was executed, and was killed on the imperial monument. "
